Warning Signs. Katy Lee
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They walked back down the hall, classrooms closed up tight once again. “What time do you arrive in the morning?” Owen asked.
“I get here at seven. Ms. Hunter is usually here— Hey, now where ya going?”
Owen had noticed a closed wooden door he hadn’t checked behind yet and he bisected Nick’s path to cut across the hall. He pushed on the door marked Faculty Women, but it didn’t budge. Locked. “Where’s the key?”
“I guess on Stephanie’s desk, but I don’t know why she locked it. The bathrooms aren’t usually—”
“Just get the key.” Owen cut off his rambling.
“Right.”
Owen gave the handle two more yanks out of impatience while waiting for Nick to return.
A thudding sound came from behind the door. Owen stumbled back in surprise. More banging alerted him to the fact that someone was on the other side. “Who’s in there?” he shouted over the rising noise.
No answer. Only more banging.
“Please, calm down and tell me who you are.” Owen turned his head and hollered down the hall. “Hurry up with the key, Nick. Someone’s locked inside.”
Nick came running out of the office, searching for the correct key on a ring of many. “Here, try this one. I think that’s it.” He thrust the keys into Owen’s hand and Owen inserted one into the lock.
With the person on the other side, he couldn’t push through as he wanted to. The person was obviously distressed. “Move back so I can open the door,” he instructed, but it didn’t help. The pounding continued. Was it a student who’d been left behind?
Owen pushed in a little, hoping the person would see the door opening and move out of the way. With the door ajar, he saw no light coming through. The poor thing was locked in the dark. He spoke through the crack. “You’re all right, but you need to let us in to help you.” He pushed a little more and suddenly the banging stopped.
Owen could now hear snippets of a voice. Little squeaks, followed by a moaning much like the one he’d heard yesterday.
Miriam.
“Miriam!” Nick said it in the same moment Owen thought it. The smaller man elbowed Owen out of the way. He succeeded, but only because Owen allowed him to pass.
With no other lighting besides the red backlight, Owen could only make out the outline of Miriam clinging on to Nick for dear life. Obviously, he was someone special she went to for comfort. He was more than an employee to her.
“Bring her out here.” He held the door open to allow Nick to guide her out of the dark. Owen walked behind them down the hallway, listening to Miriam’s sobs muffled in Nick’s shirt. Each sound squeezed his chest and built in him a need to reach for her as Nick had.
It wouldn’t take much to push Nick aside. Owen gave himself a mental shake. The direction of his thoughts confounded him. What was wrong with him?
He put himself back on the task of figuring out how Miriam had gotten locked in the bathroom in the first place. How long had she been in there? Was it Stephanie who’d locked her in? Had it been an accident? Or another, more daring, prank? And why were the lights off?
How did Miriam bear that?
Her sobs quieted to murmurs, but Owen thought perhaps she hadn’t borne it very well at all. He wondered when she’d given up hope of being found for the night, and thought of Cole and how his eight-year-old son needed to sleep with a night-light. The dark posed more than the absence of light to him. It meant he was silenced. It meant he didn’t exist anymore.
Owen followed the two into the office and watched Nick gently put a disheveled Miriam in a chair. The hair that had been twisted up in the back so neatly a few hours ago now hung in thick, teased clumps around her shoulders. No trace of the earlier humor in her eyes remained.
Nick reached his hands out to hold her face and to pull her attention to him. His thumbs gently wiped her tear-streaked cheeks. He knelt in front of her and signed to her slowly. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you anymore. This is going to stop now. If you won’t call the police, I will. You understand?”
Miriam didn’t reply. She looked over at Owen with red-rimmed eyes full of fear. The fact she didn’t hide it now twisted Owen’s gut. He took a step closer to her, not sure what he meant to actually do when he reached her. He wished more than anything the mischievous twinkling would fill her eyes again.
That he could be the one to restore it.
Focus on the case, Matthews. This was not an accident, and you need to figure out how it’s related.
“Are you sure her car is gone?” he asked Nick, trying to put the pieces together. He remembered that tidbit of info Nick had told him earlier.
Understanding of where Owen was going with that dawned on Nick’s face, and he nodded emphatically. “It’s not in the parking lot. That’s why I thought she’d left.”
“Then someone stole her car.”
Miriam inhaled sharply as her head shook back and forth, her face a mixture of different emotions. Shock, denial and disbelief paraded across it. She obviously had read his lips accurately. She jumped to her feet; her words sped so fast her hands tripped over each other. “Someone stole my car? This is crazy! I have never done anything to the people in this town. Why do they want to hurt me like this?”
Nick began to translate, his voice filled with deep sadness, projecting the pain she felt with each word. He obviously knew her well enough to know her words were not filled with anger. Owen wondered how deep their relationship went—and why he cared.
He backed a step away, reaching for his cell phone to put his mind on a different, more innocuous, track. “I’ll call Wes to report the stolen car,” he announced. “How far could it go on this island, anyway? I’m sure we’ll find it.”
At the same time Owen would find out who was behind the threats and put a stop to them. Because there was only one thing worse than being responsible for destroying a pure heart.
Not protecting one.
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