sorry,” he repeated, and she tensed, not comfortable with the pity she saw in his eyes.
She didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her. She just needed to move on with her life, make a safe home for her baby and create something out of the nothing she’d been left with when Mitch had told her they were done.
“Like I said, so am I, but there’s nothing I can do to change it. All I can do is make a good life for our child.” My child was what she’d wanted to say, but Mitch would always be part of their little girl’s life, the shadowy parent who existed as nothing more than a name, a photograph, a hole in the heart.
“It’s still tough, Ariel. There isn’t a woman on the planet who doesn’t deserve better than what you got. It’s getting late, and you need to get those stitches. How about I follow you over to the clinic? Jesse and I can escort you in and then follow you home when you’re done.” He touched his dog’s head, and the yellow lab seemed to smile, its tongue lolling out.
“I—”
“You know it’s the safest thing, right? Until we find out who this guy is and why he took a shot at you, you need to be cautious.”
She knew. She didn’t like it, but she knew.
“All right,” she conceded. “But I’d rather just go home. A couple of butterfly bandages will take care of this.”
* * *
Tristan didn’t agree with the butterfly bandage idea, but he wasn’t going to argue. Ariel knew what she wanted and after being married to a not very nice guy, she probably didn’t need anyone telling her what decisions to make.
“That’s fine. I’ll walk you into the school. You can get your things and then we’ll head out.”
“You aren’t needed here?” she asked as they headed across the parking lot.
“I was off duty when I arrived. The chief assigned the case to someone else.”
“It’s probably for the best,” she said, brushing a few strands of hair from her cheek, the bandage on her hand crisp white in the fading light.
“Why do you say that?” He led her through the front door and into a wide lobby. Posters hung from walls, announcing clubs that would be meeting again in the fall.
“Mia,” she responded. That was it. No other explanation.
“You think I should be spending more time with her?” He tried to keep defensiveness out of his voice, but he was feeling it just the way he did every time some well-meaning neighbor or church lady or school counselor pointed out that Mia needed more attention and time than what he was able to provide.
“I have no idea how much time you spend with her. I just know it can’t be easy raising a teenager. Especially one who’s been through a really difficult loss.”
She was right about that.
He’d been an only child until he was seventeen, and he knew nothing about kids or teenage girls. He was learning, but it was a slow process. One that Mia didn’t seem to have much patience for. “Mia has been through a lot. The last couple of years have been hard on both of us.”
“I know, and I have a lot of sympathy for both of you, but hard times aren’t an excuse for poor work.” She stopped short and looked straight into his eyes. He was struck by that—by the directness of her gaze, the unapologetic way she pointed out the truth.
“I’ve told her that a dozen times.”
“Probably a dozen too many. Kids like Mia need structure. They need consequences, too.”
“I hope you’re not talking about me letting her fail, because I’m not willing to do that.”
“If she doesn’t improve her grade in my class, she’s going to fail, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.” She sighed and started walking again. “I was thinking more along the lines of grounding her until her grades come up.”
“I’ve done that. I’ve also made her come to work with me on her days off, so that I can make sure she’s not goofing off. None of it seems to matter. She still turns in shoddy assignments.”
“When she turns them in at all,” Ariel added, and he couldn’t argue the point. Mia had received zeros on her last three assignments.
“I’ve been thinking about hiring a tutor to work with her. She hates the idea.” It was the only option they hadn’t explored. He could hire someone, see if that person could help nudge Mia into focusing on school again. “She’s a smart kid. Before my parents died, she was in the gifted program.”
“I know. I saw her records. Her standardized test scores are high, too.” She stopped at the yellow police tape that blocked off one corridor of the school. “Tutoring will help, but she needs to know that people are invested in her life.”
“She’s got plenty of people invested. She just isn’t appreciative of the fact,” he muttered.
“Fourteen-year-olds seldom are.” She smiled, but her gaze was focused on the hallway beyond the tape. “I guess I should get my things,” she said quietly.
“I can get them for you,” he offered. “If you’d rather not go back to the classroom.”
“I’ll have to go back Monday, so I may as well face it now.” She lifted the police tape and shimmied under it, her advanced pregnancy not seeming to hinder her movements.
Up ahead, rookie K-9 officer James Harrison and his bloodhound, Hawk, crisscrossed the hallway, moving from side to side and back again.
“We’re moving through,” Tristan said, and James gave a brief nod, his focus on a wadded-up piece of paper that lay on the glossy tile.
“Anything interesting?” Tristan asked, and James finally looked up.
“I’m not sure. Hawk alerted here, so I’m going to process it like it is. It could have just been left behind by a kid and kicked by the gunman when he ran through.” He shrugged, his gaze shifting to Ariel. “We’ll figure it out though, and get this guy behind bars as quickly as possible.”
He was trying to reassure her, but Ariel didn’t look convinced. She looked tense, her arms crossed protectively over her stomach, her bandaged hand resting on the swell of her abdomen.
“I appreciate that,” she said. “I’ll feel a lot safer when he’s in custody.”
“Do you have any idea who it was?” James asked, opening up an evidence collection kit. He took a quick photo of the paper, then put on gloves and lifted it.
“No, but I don’t think he’s anyone I know.”
“You didn’t see his face?” James carefully opened the sheet, studying words that were scrawled across it.
“No. He was wearing a mask of some sort. I already explained everything to Officer McKeller.”
“I know it’s frustrating, but you’ll probably be explaining
