had indicated.
“I would think that’s a given. Arson doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a girl would do.”
It didn’t, Lindsey admitted. “It also doesn’t seem like the kind of thing any of my kids would do.”
Shannon shrugged, her expression saying as clearly as the gesture that she didn’t necessarily agree. For the first time in Lindsey’s memory the silence between them wasn’t relaxed.
“Well,” Shannon said, finally breaking it, “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do to get ready for PTA tomorrow night and the usual flood of parents we won’t see the rest of the year.”
“You’re not complaining about that, I hope.”
It was the kind of remark that would have normally provoked Shannon’s ready laugh. Instead, as the counselor got to her feet, her expression was serious.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but…don’t be too trusting. You see them an hour a day. And some of them are adept at hiding whatever they’re thinking or doing during the other twenty-three.”
“You know, that sounds like a warning.”
“It’s meant to be. You said that Nolan believes they’ll find something else to give them the rush he’s cheated them out of. He’s probably right. And frankly, I don’t even want to imagine what that might be.”
Five
The turnout for the PTA meeting and the Open House following it had been one of the largest Lindsey could remember. The main attraction was the new field house, of course, which brought in people who hadn’t darkened the door of the school as long as their kids had been in attendance.
As usual, most of her tenth grade parents showed up and almost half of the upper class parents as well. Since many were accompanied by their children, she’d found herself thinking about the kinds of homes the kids Nolan was accusing of arson came from. Homes very much like the one where she’d grown up—loving, religious, with intact families. Because of that, she was still having a hard time reconciling the crime with the so-called criminals.
She inserted the key into the lock on her front door and turned it. As the door swung open, the interior of the house appeared totally dark. She would have sworn she’d left the kitchen light burning, but in her hurry to get back to the school, she must have forgotten.
The porch light illuminated almost half of the foyer. She stepped inside, setting her purse beside her tote bag on the hall table. She reached for the switch, but her hand hesitated halfway there. The familiar scent of home had been replaced by something strange. Chemical. Unpleasant.
She breathed through her nostrils, attempting to identify the smell. Something she should recognize, but, perhaps due to its unexpectedness in this environment, didn’t.
Finally she flicked the switch upward, her eyes narrowing against the resulting influx of light. The hall appeared exactly as she’d left it more than four hours before.
Her gaze swept the adjacent living room, but nothing there seemed different, either. Reassured, she secured the lock and the dead bolt on the front door before she slipped the end of the safety chain into its slot.
When she turned back, she raised her chin, slowly drawing air in through her nose again. The odor seemed less distinct than when she’d opened the door. Either the smell was fading or she was becoming accustomed to it. Still, she hovered in the hall, strangely reluctant to go farther into her own house. That scent, along with the absence of light—
Only with the juxtaposition of the two did she realize what must have happened. She knew from school that when a fluorescent bulb failed, its dying was accompanied by a distinctively unpleasant smell.
Relieved to have arrived at an explanation for both, she crossed the foyer and headed toward the kitchen. Although she didn’t have a replacement bulb on hand, she could at least verify that the old one had gone bad.
When she reached the entrance, she could see moonlight shining through the glass half of the back door. She normally pulled the café curtains across it at night, but that was something else she must have forgotten.
Without bothering to test the fluorescent, which had been her intent in coming here, she walked across the pale tile, her heels echoing with every step, and drew the fabric over the glass. Then, through force of habit, she checked the lock and the dead bolt. Both were secure.
She turned, the burned-out bulb almost forgotten now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The familiarity of the room was reassuring. A little exasperated with her initial unease, she started back across the tile.
Although she’d brought papers home this afternoon, she decided she was too tired to mark them. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep. She’d already taken a shower before she’d dressed for the meeting. She wasn’t going to take another. At least not tonight.
She turned off the light in the front foyer and then, in the darkened house, moved down the hallway to the bathroom doorway. She reached inside the small room, flicking the switch up. She resisted the urge to put away the few items of makeup she’d left out on the counter as she’d gotten ready. Wasted effort since she’d use them again in the morning.
She continued down the hall to her room. Without turning on the overhead, she slipped off her heels and carried them to the closet. The carpet seemed to massage her tired feet.
She’d hung the hangers for her suit and the silk shell she was wearing over the top of the door. She took them down, dropped her shoes inside, and then stripped down to her underwear, carefully re-hanging each item as she took it off.
Finally, she took out a nightgown and carried it with her to the bathroom. As she entered the room, she again caught a whiff of something that didn’t belong.
Whatever it was, it was so faint she forgot about it as she walked over to the counter. She leaned forward, peering into the mirror. Although her skin had always been one of her best features, especially for someone with her coloring, it looked sallow. Tiny lines had begun to form at the corners of her eyes, and the delicate area beneath them was dark.
Too many nighttime hours spent thinking about what Jace Nolan had told her. And a few spent thinking about Jace Nolan himself. Which was sad. And a little desperate.
No wonder Shannon and her students were interested in pairing her up with him. The words “last chance” flickered through her mind before she ruthlessly denied them a place.
She straightened, reaching behind her back to unfasten her bra and lay it on the counter. She took off her panty hose, standing on one foot and then the other, and put them into one basin of the double lavatory. She set the stopper before she turned on the water and added a squirt of shampoo.
Only then did she push her panties down over her hips and thighs, allowing them to fall to the floor. She scooped them up, placing them on top of the discarded bra.
After she’d slipped on her nightgown, she used baby oil and tissues to remove her makeup and then brushed her teeth. As she was turning to go back to the bedroom, the small pile of underwear caught her eye.
She grabbed the panties and bra in one hand, carrying them over to the wicker clothes hamper. More decorative than utilitarian, it held less than
