Deadly Bonds Page 5

  “I’m not sure the board knew what they were in for when they hired you.” Cheryl chuckled, then gestured to a group of people seated at one of the picnic tables, watching the action in play on the football field they’d put in last summer. “But they seem to be enjoying themselves.”

  Several shouts of excitement rose from the direction of the field, where the students were engaged in a game of flag football. Sara tried to make out Theo. Her heart jumped into her throat as the ball came hurtling toward his face. He caught it, but lost his balance and landed face-first in the grass as he fought to hold onto the ball. She relaxed as he jumped up with a grin and held up the ball. He pulled a blade of grass from his bottom lip.

  Her eyes sought out Holt, to no avail. She’d hoped he’d make it here for Theo’s sake but his anger toward her was just too large to overcome. Apparently pinky swears didn’t mean what they used to.

  Cheryl clucked at Sara like a mother hen. “I’ve watched you talking with the parents, but your wheels are always spinning. Relax. Go play some of the games. Enjoy the kids. I think I’ll try the dunk tank.”

  “I should have canceled that. It’s a bit chilly, don’t you think?”

  “Nah. Lockhart has it comin’.” With a wink, Cheryl headed across the lawn toward the booth where the science teacher was perched precariously on a slim wooden board, his khakis and polo shirt totally dry. Sara suspected Cheryl was about to rectify that. She grinned.

  “Pretty smug, aren’t you?”

  Sara spun to face John Rochard, her palm pressed to her chest in surprise. She’d caught sight of him earlier and given him a wide berth. “Excuse me?”

  His gaze took a slow trip over her. He smirked when she bristled. “You think you hold all the keys to the futures of these boys. Of my boy. Think again. Neil plans to go to an Ivy League college when he graduates. I’ve worked hard to make sure that happens.”

  “And earning Cs and Ds in half his classes will undo all of your hard work. Is that it?”

  After Rochard had confronted Mrs. Robertson, Sara had gone back and reviewed Neil’s grades. They’d sunk like an anchor since January. John’s disdainful glance showed exactly who he thought was responsible for his son’s struggles. Her. Unbelievable. There was something deeper going on with Neil.

  “Glad we understand each other.” John turned to leave.

  “I’m afraid we don’t.” Her words had him swinging back to face her. His face was firm and cold as granite, but she straightened her spine. “I don’t rig grades, if that’s what you’re suggesting. The boys get what they earn. If you want to help, Neil needs to sign up to take the SAT soon. And his teachers are offering to let him retake the classes in which he performed poorly in night school or at the community college, so that he doesn’t fall behind. I’ve already told him this as well as sent the information to you in an email.”

  John’s laugh was harsh. “Night school? During football season? And who do you expect will foot yet another bill? I don’t think so.”

  “His grades have been in a steady decline for months. Has something changed in his home life?” She suspected that something was the Rochards’ ugly divorce. A divorce that was being kept tightly under wraps yet provided grist for the rumor mill in the teachers’ lounge. A divorce that even impacted John’s father, Patrick Rochard, a distinguished military veteran who hoped to win re-election to the senate in November. She wondered if John recognized the role of his personal and family drama in Neil’s problems.

  “That’s none of your damn business.” He took a step closer and jabbed a finger at her. “Your business is getting the best opportunities in life for these boys. That’s what we pay you for. See that you remember that. This school has a reputation for excellence and you’re driving it into the ground.”

  In her peripheral vision, Sara caught sight of Theo approaching. “Miss Sara, are you okay?”

  Hazel eyes laced with gold looked from her to John. Sara’s lips felt like tight rubber bands that refused to curve, but she fought past it. “I’m fine, Theo. Did you get plenty to eat?” He nodded but his eyes, narrowed and untrusting, remained on John. “Why don’t you play some kickball? It looks like they’re forming a team.”

  Instead of leaving, Theo moved to her side. The smell of a boy who’d been outside all day—the scents of grass, perspiration, and fresh air that somehow cling to a child’s skin—filled her nose and grounded her.

  “Theo, I think you remember Jeremy’s father, Mr. Rochard,” she said. As if he sensed the anger and unwelcome in Rochard, Theo didn’t do anything to greet the man. She nudged him gently with her elbow.

  Theo looked up at her. “I’d like you to talk to my dad. He finally came.”

  “He did?” She resisted the urge to search for him. The thought of seeing Holt again, face-to-face, did funny, unwelcome things to her insides. “You should be spending time with him, then.”

  “Yes, but you should talk to him too.”

  She got the feeling he was trying to get her away from John. “I’ll be over in a minute, once I finish my discussion with Mr. Rochard.”

  After a moment of staring down John, Theo moved away. He looked over his shoulder, but she waved him on. Soon, he was trudging down the grassy hill toward a stand of large oaks where Holt stood waiting.

  Holt’s gaze was on her. She was certain of it, though sunglasses hid his eyes. Tension radiated from his stance. Did he not approve of something? Despite the warm sunshine on her shoulders, she shivered. But as Theo joined him, Holt turned toward his son.

  Rochard took a step closer to her and Sara’s attention was immediately on him. His face was white with controlled anger. “Just so we’re clear, Neil’s grades will change. There had to be a computation error. Remember, my father is a United States Senator. He has a lot of influence. Neil will be getting into Harvard. Anything else would be unacceptable, and, ultimately, detrimental to this school.” He got right in her face as he delivered his threat.

  Bully. Sara bit her tongue and counted to three, tamping down her anger and refusing to back away.

  “Then I guess we’ll be seeing Neil in night school this semester.” She forced her lips into a smile and turned to follow Theo. The breeze disguised the hitch in her breath. Walking worked the shakes out of her legs. She’d be damned if she’d let John see just how angry he’d made her.

  * * *

  Holt stood in the shade and watched his son stand at Sara’s side. Even from fifty yards away, he could see she had wriggled her way into Theo’s heart. A twinge of jealousy was quickly followed by a pull of longing. He used to have that kind of relationship with Theo. Comfortable and easy. Now, the kid rationed smiles as if they were a limited stash of his favorite jelly beans. The red ones.

  In the past few weeks, he’d sensed a shift in his son—a rekindling of interest in life. Theo had been spending an increasing amount of time in his room, working on some journal. Theo refused to show it to him, saying he’d already shown it to Miss Sara, and she’d approved. She’d accomplished what he hadn’t, breaking through his son’s defenses.

  The man who’d been in conversation with Sara turned a glare on Theo. Even across the distance, Holt could sense the anger. It was evident in the stiff set of the guy’s shoulders, in the way he leaned toward her, his fists clenched at his sides as he got right in her face. Holt was about to intervene when Theo turned and headed toward him. Holt’s gaze, shielded by his prescription sunglasses, met Sara’s. Holt thought he saw her shudder.

  The breeze lifted Theo’s hair as he stopped a few feet away from him. No hug, again. Holt swallowed his disappointment.

  “Miss Sara said she’d come over in a minute.” Theo’s concerned gaze went back to her. The angry man stepped toward Sara and jabbed a finger in her face. Holt felt Theo stiffen beside him and moved his hand to his son’s shoulder. She held her ground, as
still as stone, stubborn determination shimmering off her. She ended their conversation with a taut smile before turning and walking toward Holt. The edge of her filmy skirt blew around her knees, emphasizing nicely shaped calves and slender ankles.

  “You know her pretty well, right?” Theo asked. “Not just because of school, but because of Mom?”

  “Yeah.” He knew her about as well as he wanted to. Liar. At least one part of his body wanted to know her much better.

  “But you don’t like her?” Theo’s question surprised Holt.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re different around her.”

  Probably because she made him remember. To feel things he didn’t want to feel—regret, temptation, guilt. Longing. But as astute as his son seemed to be, there was no way he was going to share that with Theo. “Some things happened, a long time ago. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the past.”

  Theo seemed to consider that for a moment. “Mom did. She let go. Miss Sara said she was really happy when Mom and her became friends again. She said it feels good to let go of a grudge.”

  Apparently his son had been spending more time with Sara than Holt had realized if they’d talked about all that. Across the distance, the man she’d been speaking to headed in the opposite direction, his brisk gait and long strides indicating he was ticked off. Sara wrapped her arms around her middle as if to protect herself. If he were profiling the scene, he’d say she’d just survived a serious verbal exchange but suspected there was worse to come. The woman was in serious need of a hug. It shocked him that he cared. She’d always been prickly and annoyingly self-sufficient, like a cactus. But he supposed even a cactus needed a little nourishment once in a while.

  Maybe that was what had drawn his introverted son to her. They both needed somebody. Elizabeth’s words haunted him.

  Theo needs someone who’ll be there for him night and day. Your world, filled with serial killers, is no place for kids. Sara will take good care of him. And he’ll be good for her.

  Sara detoured to pick up a couple of cups from a nearby picnic table, then filled them from the spout on the upright cooler. She headed his way again, her butterscotch hair gleaming in the sunlight as strands of it got caught up in the wind. He tried to ignore the press of fabric against her curves when the breeze stirred again.

  Her wide mouth bent into a smile as she reached them, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Because of him, or because of the man she’d been speaking with? She held the cups out to them. “I brought these for you two. Saw Theo playing flag football earlier and thought he might be thirsty.” Her blue eyes were warm like the waters of the Caribbean as they turned to his son.

  “Thank you.” Holt accepted the peace offering, then glanced at Theo. “He can’t say enough positive things about you.” He hadn’t believed most of them.

  “I’m glad you made it.”

  “I promised I’d be here.”

  “My faith in pinky-swears is restored.” Her lips twitched. She seemed to recall their preteen audience and returned to formalities. “Theo’s been working hard. I’m proud of him.”

  There was no eye-roll from Theo this time. She had him wrapped around her little—pinky—finger. Fooled, just as Holt had been once upon a time. “Well, that and five bucks will buy you a cup of coffee. It’s hard work that’ll pay off, and his teachers don’t seem to think he’s reaching his potential.”

  Beside him, Theo buried his face in his cup, attempting to disguise his hurt with a gulp of lemonade.

  Shit. He’d blown it. Again. Trying to communicate with Theo this past year had been like negotiating a labyrinth—every turn felt wrong and led to more complications. He’d put his “dad hat” on when he should have been more encouraging.

  Holt could see Sara biting back a scathing response that he probably deserved. But when she met his gaze, he was shocked to find empathy there. “Hard work is important. But so is passion about what you’re working on. Has he shown you his journal?”

  “No,” Theo said. “He wouldn’t get it. I gotta go. Have a good Labor Day, Miss Sara.” He jogged toward the boys gathering on the athletic field for some type of game.

  Sara’s gaze followed Theo. “Must be tough raising him by yourself.” Once again, her understanding shocked him. She caught his look and smiled. “Yes, I’m capable of understanding. Raising a child isn’t easy. Alone, it must be much harder. I have a lot of respect for parents.”

  “Even that parent?” Holt tipped his head toward the man she’d been talking to, who was now in deep discussion with a group of starchy people at a picnic table.

  Her eyes darkened. “Mr. Rochard?”

  “Rochard? As in the U.S. Congressman?”

  “Same family. Patrick Rochard is his father. And John Rochard’s probably regaling the school board with tales of my incompetence as we speak.” The stiff posture he’d witnessed earlier was back, as if she were steeling herself against attack. As the breeze lifted her hair, he had the sudden impression of an ancient Viking princess riding into battle.

  “Hard to believe that’s how Rochard’s wasting this beautiful afternoon.”

  Her gaze met his. “And yet, it’s likely the truth.”

  “That you’re incompetent?” Holt asked in surprise. Sara was many things, but never incompetent.

  She laughed—a soft, husky sound that tugged at something inside him. “No. That he’s being an ass.”

  He studied her a moment. “You don’t deserve that. You’re good at what you do here. You’re good with the kids. I’ve seen it with Theo.”

  “Thank you. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

  Because of their history.

  Uncomfortable, she averted her gaze, looking at her toes. The same pink polish he’d seen on her fingers adorned the toes that peeked out from her sandals. A strand of hair blew across her cheek and he resisted the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?” he prompted, curious which part made her feel guilty.

  “All of it. Ten years ago, I never should have butted into Elizabeth’s relationship with you. I just thought you were...”

  “All wrong for her?” He couldn’t fault her for that. At the time he’d thought the same thing. And when he’d responded to Sara’s unexpected kiss, his doubts had only intensified. But Elizabeth had assured him it was simply nerves, a momentary lapse in judgment, and that all relationships faced challenges. Elizabeth had also convinced him that Sara was jealous of their relationship and was trying to break them up. So they’d cut Sara out of their lives and moved on.

  “Yeah.” Sara had paid for her mistake. The break in her friendship with Elizabeth had only been mended many years later, after Elizabeth had become sick. “And about the way I invited you to this picnic.” She looked away, but a grin pulled at her lips. “You were right. There may have been an element of manipulation to it.”

  “I accept your apology.” He was tired of being angry anyway, tired of wasting energy trying to avoid her whenever he came to pick up Theo or attended a school function.

  “Thank you.” Just like that, she seemed to shake off the sober mood. “I read in the paper that you’re working with the police to find that killer called Toxin.”

  “True.” Had she seen the news footage of him acting like a pompous ass to bait Toxin? He was surprised to find that the thought bothered him.

  “Theo’s been getting a lot of attention from the other kids because of it.”

  One reason he’d agreed to send Theo to the Academy was to avoid that kind of thing. “Good attention, I hope.”

  “Yes. He’s enjoying it. He’s very proud of you.”

  His head suddenly felt like it might float off his shoulders. Who’d have thought it would be so important to have a nine-year-ol
d be proud of you? It was supposed to be the other way around. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  “You have reason to be proud of him. He’s working much harder lately. He’s more focused.”

  “Good.” Guilt nagged at him. He hadn’t had much to do with the turnaround. Sara and his parents deserved the credit.

  She nibbled her lip a moment, drawing his attention to the plump lower half. He remembered the softness of it, and the hopes he’d had that night he’d bumped into her at the bar near the University of Chicago Great Lakes campus and they’d talked for hours.

  “I was prepared to spend the night feeling sorry for myself—alone on Valentine’s Day, stood up by my best friend who was supposed to commiserate with me—and now here you are.” Sara’s eyes had seemed full of wonder, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. But she was half drunk. Holt didn’t kid himself that this was anything other than a dream. Things like meeting the right girl—the funny, smart girl—didn’t happen to him.

  “I’m glad I decided to go out,” he said, locking gazes with her. He’d seen her before. The quiet girl in the front row of the Psych 101 course he’d taught as a graduate assistant had drawn his eye more than once, especially when he’d seen the grades she’d earned. Pretty face and a brain. The latter was the sexier of the two in Holt’s book.

  * * *

  From the stand of trees at the top of a knoll, Toxin could see everything without being seen. Kids played games in the field to the north. Parents and teachers mingled at tables and bleachers on the sideline. To the south, under a large oak, was the man he’d followed.

  Dr. Holt Patterson, the man who had dared to laugh at him. But his opinion didn’t matter. Patterson was apparently some kind of brain at SSAM, which Toxin had been researching. The Society for the Study of the Aberrant Mind. More pretentiousness. As if anyone could understand aberrations.

  No, the only thing that had pissed Toxin off was being labeled aberrant. If his behavior was so abnormal, how had he succeeded in killing three people without recrimination? And if what he’d done was wrong, then why did it feel so good?