I nodded and then began to explain everything, starting with the letter, and what Jasper had told me about his role in hiding Allen's illness. Henley listened, occasionally jotting things down. He never interrupted, never made any indication of what he thought about anything I said.
I didn't ask him for his opinion either. I didn't want to know what he thought about Allen's suicide, or Jasper fudging the paperwork for the insurance company. All I cared about was that he didn't think I'd killed my husband.
When I finished, I slumped back in the chair, my head pounding. It had been harder than I'd thought to explain everything.
He was quiet for a moment, writing something else on his notepad, and then he looked up at me. “Is there anything else?”
“No.” I rubbed my hand over my face. How could I be so tired this early in the morning? “That's it.”
“Okay.” He nodded and tapped the pen on his desk. “There are a couple other things we need to cover before you go.” His mouth twisted like he'd tasted something sour. “The Lockwoods have talked to some reporters.”
Shit.
I didn't curse out loud this time, but the situation certainly merited it.
“What are they saying?” I asked with a sigh.
“Aside from everything I'm sure you can imagine they're saying regarding your marriage,” he answered. “They're also saying you're trying to have them framed for arson so you can avoid the court ruling against you regarding Allen's trust.”
I didn't feel anything about the latest lies. No hurt. No anger. It seemed like I was finally beyond all of those things when it came to the Lockwoods. The realization surprised me. I'd spent so many years caring about what they thought of me that knowing I didn't care anymore was a new feeling in and of itself.
“Obviously, it's all them running their mouths,” he said. “But I have a feeling the cops are going to try to use the accusations against you.”
“Against me how?” I asked, feeling my stomach knot in concern.
“They want you to come in and answer some more questions.” He scowled. “Detective Reed called me yesterday evening.”
“What more can they ask me?” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I was there for hours. I told them what happened forwards, backwards and sideways.”
“And now they're going to ask you everything again.” Henley leaned forward and pressed his fingers together. “Probably a little less politely.”
“They could be less polite than that?” I asked dryly.
“They could.” His lips twitched. “And they will. They're going to keep at you, insult you, insinuate horrible things about you.”
“More horrible than saying I killed my husband?” I reached for my purse and pulled out a small bottle of medicine. I popped two pills into my mouth and dry swallowed them.
“Until they figure out what happened, they're going to keep looking,” he said.
“Unless they're so focused on me that they can't see anyone else,” I countered. “That they can't see the truth.” I sighed. “What do you think I should do?”
“I think you should go in voluntarily,” he said. “Answer their questions. Don't give them any reason to say that you're not cooperating.”
“Does it mean anything that the arrest was voided?” I asked.
He frowned and took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, no.” He scratched his head. “Just because I had a judge who agreed that they didn't have enough evidence to justify an arrest doesn't mean they're going to let things go. They can still put things together and get some judge who thinks things look different. That's why you have to put it all out there. No surprises.”
I sighed again, something I seemed to be doing a lot of today. “When do they want me to come in?”
“The sooner, the better,” he said. “The longer you put it off, the more suspicious it makes you look.”
“All right.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I'll go in after school.”
“I'll meet you there.”
I shook my head. “If I'm just telling the truth, I don't need a lawyer there, right? Doesn't having you with me make me look guilty?”
“Most criminal attorneys would advise you not to say anything without them,” Henley said. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “But Allen told me that it would be pointless for me to argue with you if something ever came up. He said you were stubborn.”
I smiled despite the pounding in my head. Yes, I thought. Yes, I was.
Chapter 7
Being stubborn did not magically solve all of my problems.
Not that I'd ever thought it would. Generally, my inability to give in on a lot of things caused more problems than it solved. In this case, however, I'd hoped that it would help. If I kept my temper and continued to repeat the same information over and over, eventually Detectives Reed and Rheingard would believe me. Everyone knew that one of the reasons cops asked things dozens of different ways and hundreds of times was to try to trip up a suspect. Lies were always harder to remember than the truth, and since I wasn't lying, my story wasn't going to change. It was just a matter of out-lasting the interrogation without letting them get to me.
This strategy didn't, however, help me when I walked into the school and found a note on my desk.
Please come to my office when you arrive. - Principal Sanders
I glanced at the clock. I still had a half hour before my students were due back so I left my purse and bag in my chair and headed down to the principal's office. Growing up, I'd never been the kind of kid who got in trouble often. Or ever, really. Mitchell had been the one who'd done stupid stuff. Got caught smoking behind the gym. Cut class. I'd nearly cried the one time my teacher thought I'd passed a note in class.
I had that same feeling of dread in my stomach now as I walked down the hallway. I could hear the other teachers in their classrooms, the murmur of students answering questions, laughing at something someone said. All of it was muted, distant. The clicking of my heels on the tile was louder, echoing in my ears.
I didn't remember the office being so far from my classroom, but it felt like it took me years to get there. Years during which I thought about how I was going to have to apologize for having to come in late again, how I'd have to make sure that it never happened again.
I'd known that I was on borrowed time when it came to how understanding everyone was being, particularly at work. Principal Sanders had offered me as much time off as I needed at the beginning of the school year and had even said he'd be willing for me to work part time if I'd needed to. I hadn't taken him up on his offer, but there had been a couple times since then that I'd called off. I hadn't thought it was a big deal at the time, but now it seemed like it had bothered Principal Sanders more than he let on.
“Shae.” He met me at the door of his office, a plastic smile on his face.
That caught me more off-guard than the note had. I'd never been close to Principal Sanders, but more because he and I didn't really have anything in common than any actual animosity. We'd always gotten along well enough though. He was my boss, not my friend, but he'd always been polite, warm even.
All of that was gone now. He wasn't being rude, but it was clear from how he carried himself that something was wrong, and that something was me. His back was stiff, his expression stony. He didn't offer me a chair, or ask me to sit, though he did close the door behind us.
“Mrs. Lockwood, it has come to my attention that there are some things I need to address.”
“Yes?” I clasped my fingers in front of me.
“It's come to my understanding that you're having some...legal issues.”
I clenched my jaw to keep the polite smile on my face. Behind him, on the desk, I could see a copy of today's paper. Shit. I wondered if the Lockwoods' accusations were in there too, or just the fact that I'd been arrested and questioned in Allen's death.
“Yes,” I agreed. “That's where I was this morning, speaking with my attorney. And thank you again for letting me come in late. I'll make sure all of my future appointments are done after school hours.”
“I appreciate that,” he said, with that same fake smile. “But that's a minor detail. I'm more concerned with the nature of your legal problems.”
“The nature?” I frowned.
“We're not talking about a parking ticket, Mrs. Lockwood.”
I really didn't like that he'd changed from calling me by my first name. He called all of the teachers by their given names unless they asked him not to.
“You were arrested on suspicion of murder.”
“I'm aware of the charges,” I said quietly. I could feel my temper starting to rise and had to fight to keep it down. I couldn't, however, stay completely quiet. “I was there when they read me my rights.”
“You understand, Mrs. Lockwood, that when you became a teacher, you weren't only agreeing to educate your students, but to keep them safe and set an example.”
Okay, now he was starting to piss me off.
“When your husband died and you started...
seeing
Jasper Whitehall, I made allowances for you. Mr. Whitehall didn't accompany you to any faculty functions and you didn't discuss your relationship in public, so there was no need to address it.”
Now I was staring at Principal Sanders in complete and utter shock. Gina had been living with her girlfriend for years. The wood-shop teacher was fifty-seven years-old and had never been married, but always had women coming in and out of his house.
And my relationship with Jasper was a problem?
“And there was the incident with Aime Vargas.”
While she had come after me in my classroom, it hadn't exactly been my fault. She'd been nuts, jealous of the fact that Allen had married me and not her. It wasn't like my actions had been the reason she'd put my students in danger, and I'd done everything possible to keep them safe.
“While I understood that the incident wasn't entirely your fault, the fact of the matter still remains that she did put your students in danger.”
“And she's in jail, Mr. Sanders.” I could hear the edge to my voice and worked to keep it out. Losing my temper wouldn't be a prudent thing to do at the moment. “With quite a few charges against her and an impossible bail, I doubt she'll be visiting any time soon.”
He stopped smiling, his eyes narrowing. “And now I learn that you've been arrested for murder.”
“The arrest was voided.” My stomach was starting to churn. I didn't understand what was happening here. “And I didn't kill Allen. I didn't do anything to him. I’d never hurt him or anyone.”
“I'm not saying that you did,” Sanders said. His eyes darted back towards the paper on his desk. “But it's out there, Mrs. Lockwood, and that's what matters.”
His words hung in the silence between us.
“What are you saying?” I asked the question not because I really wanted to know, but because I was tired and wanted it over with.
He took a deep breath. “On behalf of the school board, Mrs. Lockwood, I'm going to have to suspend you, pending the resolution of your legal matters.”
I blinked. I'd guessed it before he'd said it, but it still came as a shock.
“We'll be putting you at half-salary during your suspension,” he continued. “The other half will be kept in case of your return.”
In case
. That was the same as
if
. Not
when
.
“I understand.” I heard myself saying the words, but I didn't understand, not really.
“I'll need your ID.”
“Right.” I unpinned the card from the bottom of my shirt and handed it to him. “I'll be going then.”
“Mr. Russell will show you out.”
Mr. Russell. From security.
I was still in shock as Principal Sanders opened the door and motioned for me to leave. Mr. Russell was already waiting there, his broad face blank. He walked with me to my classroom and stood in the doorway while I got my bag and my purse. Then he walked me to my car as if I was someone who shouldn't be here.
I sat in my car and watched him walk back to the school, but he didn't go inside. He was pretending to be looking at something, but I knew he was waiting for me to leave. I wanted to. I was just waiting for the world to stop spinning.
When it finally did, I started my car, and pulled out of the parking lot. I wasn't even really aware of where I was going until I was almost there. I pulled into the clinic parking lot and hurried inside.
“Mrs. Lockwood.” Georgia Overstreet gave me her usual sickly-sweet smile. “How can I help you?”
“Where's Jasper?” I could feel my voice quivering and fought to keep it steady.
“Oh, I'm sorry, but Dr. Whitehall is with a patient.”
I swallowed hard. “Please let him know I'm here.”
She glanced behind me at the waiting room. Only a couple of people were sitting there. Jasper had said he was only taking on some of his regulars until after the holidays when he'd start things up for real.
“Dr. Whitehall left specific instructions that he not be disturbed. For any reason. He's very busy.”
“Just let him know it's me.” My voice sounded small. “I really need to speak to him.”