“He is such a pain.” Lucy sighed as the men left the building. “It’s the TAs. They all get big heads.” Lucy sent a withering look at the door. “Think they deserve to be treated differently. Like they’ve earned it or something.” Her nose wrinkled. “It’s weird, you know. Like they’re part of a secret club or something.”
“It’s no secret,” Shay said.
“I’m not talking about
just
being a TA. I think it’s something different. Something … I don’t know, more intense. Maybe it’s not all of them.” Lucy frowned, her pencil-thin eyebrows drawing together. “Lauren Conway, the girl who disappeared before Thanksgiving? She said there was something going on, like a cult or something, and she should have known because she was one of them.”
“A cult of TAs?” Shay almost laughed.
“Hey, I’m serious. I think that’s why she disappeared,” she said, leaning on the handle of her shovel. “I think she knew too much.”
“So now they’re a
deadly
cult?”
Lucy mopped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “I know it sounds crazy, but maybe it’s not so far off base. I mean, what do you really think happened to Nona and Drew?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think a lunatic group of TAs attacked them. I mean, come on, Drew Prescott
is
one of them! Don’t tell me you think they all ganged up on him because he’s, like, a rogue TA or something? And the same with Lauren Conway. She didn’t fit in, so they what, killed her and got rid of her body somehow?” Shay rolled her
eyes. “You know, Lucy, this is right up there with Maeve’s great Shakespearean tragedy.”
“I know it sounds out there, but I’m tellin’ ya. There is something going on here.”
Wind whistled around the building, and overhead the timbers creaked. Lucy glanced up, and Shay knew what she was thinking, that this was where Nona and Drew were attacked. Where Nona had lost her life.
“That’s how they do it, you know,” Lucy said. “This”—she motioned to the half-cleaned stalls and their shovels—“this isn’t the real punishment. It’s the psychological stuff. Lynch’s specialty.”
“What do you mean?”
Lucy looked around to make sure no one overheard. “We could have been assigned to the kennels, or the barns, or the pigpens. Right? Wouldn’t that have been worse, the pigs? But, no, we’re here in the stable”—she looked up toward the loft—“right where Nona was killed.”
“So?” Shay said.
“Think about Reverend Lynch’s last name. Lynch. As in noose. As in hanging.” Lucy actually shuddered. “You think that’s a coincidence?”
Before Shay could respond, the lights flickered ominously.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Lucy whispered, and the sound of angry voices swept into the stable.
“And I expect you to maintain focus,” Flannagan was saying, obviously irritated. “We didn’t handpick you so you could go punching girls,
Mister
Rolfe. Don’t screw up again.”
Lucy met Shay’s eyes and lifted a shoulder, as if to say,
Didn’t I tell you?
“Oh, so now what? Flannagan’s involved, too?” Shay laughed. “I hate to tell you this, Yang, but Flannagan’s a little old to be a TA. And so is Lynch.”
With a grim slash of a frown, Lucy moved on to another stall. Shay bent into her task as Eric, his face red from the cold and a dressing-down, wheeled the cart down the aisle.
He stepped into Omen’s stall. “I hate that old man,” he said under his breath as he scooped up another shovelful of straw and manure. “I wish the son of a bitch were dead.”
Jules stomped the snow from her boots before pushing open the door to the empty chapel. She had left the dining hall with the dinner meal in full swing, wanting to be on time for her appointment with Dr. Lynch, though the thought of crossing the campus alone after dark had given her some pause.
Once inside, she pressed into the shadows of the nave. The tile floor reflected the glow of battery-powered candles placed strategically to light the way up the center aisle to the altar. Behind her, recessed lights illuminated the massive cross built into the window.
Her footsteps hushed by the red floor runner, Jules made her way to a side door and down a short hallway to Reverend Lynch’s private office. She knocked, listened. When no one answered, she tried the door.
Of course it was locked.
It seemed she was alone in the building.
A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. What would prohibit him, the killer, from walking into a building like this and striking again?
Keep moving,
she told herself.
Moving and exploring.
She made her way to the main staircase and descended.
Downstairs was a warren of a basement where, she knew, some of the theology, psychology, and religion classes were taught. She snapped on lights as she looked into the rooms with their egress windows, whiteboards, overhead projectors, and flickering fluorescent fixtures.
Nothing sinister or suspicious.
At the end of the hall was a set of restrooms and a locked door marked
CUSTODIAN
, which she assumed was a janitor’s closet or furnace room. She felt a jab of disappointment that she’d discovered nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary, but then, if Blue Rock had dark secrets, they would be well buried.
Discovering a secondary, narrow staircase, she climbed and bypassed the first floor, heading to a choir loft situated high above the nave. This elevated position offered an eagle’s-eye view of the rows of pews below and, through the soaring windows divided by a massive crucifix, a wide panorama of the campus. As she turned around, noticing windows on all four sides of the loft, she realized every portion of the campus could be observed. Lake Superstition and the women’s dorm were visible, as were the cluster of main buildings, the gazebo, and the cafeteria, even the road leading to the stable and garages. Nearly three hundred sixty degrees. This place was like some kind of sacred watchtower.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” a deep male voice whispered from the shadows.
Jules gasped. Her heart clutched. She nearly tripped as she spun around.
Tobias Lynch stood at the edge of the loft, leaning against a bookcase.
She pressed a hand to her chest, as if that would still her pounding heart. Had he been here all along? Standing alone in the dark? Watching over his beloved campus from the shadows?
“You should see it in the moonlight,” he said as he crossed the loft noiselessly. Suddenly he stood so close to her that she felt the warmth of his body. She had to fight her instinct to cringe away.
This was creepy. Jules wanted to step away, put some distance between them, but she held her ground.
“The view is spectacular under a full moon,” he went on. “The lake and grounds cast in silver. Such a glorious example of God’s work.”
“It is beautiful,” she admitted, trying to keep her voice even, despite her racing pulse. What was he doing here in the dark? “I went to your office and you weren’t there. I hadn’t been up here, so …”
“You checked things out.” Was there a trace of judgment in his tone? “I understand, and I didn’t mean to startle you. We’ve all been under an undue amount of stress.”
In shadow, his face seemed darker, the hollows of his eyes and lines of his face more defined, almost sinister.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind as well.” He touched her shoulder, and his fingers lingered a millisecond too long. “Such tragedy and loss. A waste. Even though I know we have to take solace in the fact that Nona is with God now, it’s difficult to let go of her, bright star that she was.” He checked his watch, the illuminated dial glowing blue. “I see that I’ve kept you waiting. My apologies.” He motioned toward the main, open staircase that wound downward behind the altar.
She hurried down to the main level, his even footsteps behind her. He unlocked his office, chatting about the reasons why he kept this second office here in the chapel. All the while, she wondered if he’d been in the loft alone or if he’d followed her. Had her exploration been caught on a security camera and he’d been warned that she was poking around the building, or was it all just coincidence? Not that it really mattered, at least not this time.
“Come in, come in,” Lynch said, holding the door open for her and reaching inside the doorway to hit a switch. A desk lamp suddenly cast golden light into the small room with its floor-to-ceiling bookcases, a small brick fireplace,
wide desk, and credenza. Upon the desk were several files, one open enough that she caught a glimpse of a picture of Cooper Trent, another labeled
FARENTINO, JULIA.
Her heart jolted.
Why was Lynch looking into Trent’s file? And hers? Had he noticed that her maiden name was Delaney, which was the same last name of Shay’s mother? No, no … Delaney was a common name, and she doubted that the parent application would have asked for maiden names. Maybe he’d connected her to her cousin Analise …
So many worries. Jules knew that, with a little digging, he could find the truth, and her lie that she wasn’t related to anyone connected to Blue Rock would be exposed.
It’s nothing. Just a coincidence. He has no idea you’re involved.
He waved her into a rocker tucked into a corner, then quickly slipped both files into a cabinet behind his desk. Before he settled into his leather chair, he lit the fire, turning on a gas jet that ignited the kindling and logs stacked in the grate. “There we go.” Once the fire was crackling to his satisfaction, he turned off the gas and slid into his chair. “Sorry … organization is one of my strong points, but it’s been difficult keeping up with the recent turn of events here.”
He did seem a little flustered. Off.
“I wanted to talk to you alone, to personally welcome you to the staff, to assure you that we’re all a team and you can feel free to ask me any questions.”
“So you said,” she reminded him.
“I know. Last evening at my home.”
Meaning: with my wife around.
“But I wanted to share something personal with you.”
Warning bells went off in Jules’s head. He leaned back in his chair and stroked his soul patch with a finger. A sensual, thoughtful gesture.
She forced herself to remain seated.
In brief, he shared his testimony, explaining how once he’d been on “the wrong path,” when his negligent actions had put him and two others in the hospital. He’d been unconscious when his Lord and savior had come to him, told him that this time he’d spare Tobias and his friends, but from that point forward, he was to spread the word of God.
And he had listened to the Lord, he told her soberly. His friends survived, though one had been confined to a wheelchair, and Tobias Lynch had turned his life around, accepting God into his life and dedicating himself to doing his will. It was his hope that this school, Blue Rock Academy, would survive him as an institution dedicated to helping troubled youth reclaim their lives.
“The purpose of this school—the academy’s mission—is a wonderful thing,” Jules said with forced conviction, and a part of her wanted to believe him. He seemed sincere. Even troubled. She looked down at her lap, thinking,
The mission is good; the way you carry it out is what’s questionable.
“But? Do I detect a note of reticence?” He had a knack for reading between the lines. “You’ve been asking questions about Maris Howell.”
So Charla had already gotten to him. Word traveled fast.
“I’m taking over her classes. It’s natural to want more information.”
“Julia,” he said softly, his voice like an arctic chill against her skin. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
She felt like a trapped butterfly, alive and being pinned to a Peg-Board for observation. “Yes …,” she said slowly, thinking fast. “I wanted a better sense of what went on, who was affected. I want to be sensitive to the students’ needs. I couldn’t walk blindly into a situation where students had been hurt in some way.”
He was watching her carefully, his hands tented under his chin. “That’s rather insightful, but next time, come to
me. Talk to me in person. We don’t want to stir up ill feelings on campus, do we?”
She nodded and he rose, signifying the meeting was over. “I hope you share our dedication and vision,” he said.
“I’m all about helping kids,” she said, which was the truth.
“Good, good. That’s what I want to hear.” Rounding the desk, he clasped her hand in both of his. “I’m just sorry that you had to come amid this trying time. But we will get through it with God’s help.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “Welcome, Julia Farentino.” His smile was wide, almost knowing.
Warnings sizzled through her brain, hairs lifting on the back of her arms. She forced a smile and somehow kept up the lie. “I can’t wait to get to work,” she said as he finally released her hand. “Say hello to your wife.”
“My wife,” he said under his breath, as if Cora Sue were the furthest thing from his mind. “I will, yes.”
Jules thanked him for the opportunity to work with these students and slipped on her coat, all the while wondering what it was about him that set her nerves on edge.
As Jules left the building, she thought of the files she’d seen him slip into his credenza. Were they duplicates of the files Charla King kept in the admin building, or something more? It would be a waste of time to maintain duplicates. No, she suspected that Tobias Lynch kept his own files on every staff member, unofficial files that ignored the ethics of most human resources departments.
Out in the gathering snow, she kept her eyes on the path and moved quickly from one pool of lamplight to the next. She knew Lynch was watching her from the window; she had seen his silhouette.
A man of God?
Of true faith?
Jules wondered.
CHAPTER 27
Warming the back of his legs on the fire, Trent sipped coffee reheated from yesterday’s pot and turned Nona’s murder over in his mind. He’d tried and failed to connect Nona’s homicide to Lauren Conway’s disappearance, but somehow, he was certain, the two mysteries were linked.
He’d spent hours going over everything he’d learned about the events leading up to Nona’s fateful trip to the stable. He figured she’d worn Shaylee’s cap, probably just as she had on the night he’d discovered the filly caught outside. The way he saw it, the yearling had slipped out when Nona and Andrew had sneaked into the stables for a quick hookup. Then, later, Trent had stumbled upon them as they were leaving.