PHONE RANG just as Brett started working on his algebra assignment. He’d already done all the damage he could to his humanities lesson, and it was time to move on.
“Hi, Brett,” Regan said. “Have you seen Claire?”
“Uh, no. I left the bag of supplies inside her door. She wasn’t home.”
“She’s not answering her phone, and I’m getting concerned.”
“Maybe she’s in the shower.”
“For two hours?”
Actually, he could imagine that. Brett glanced out the window and saw the lights weren’t on in the trailer, shooting that theory to hell. “I’ll walk over to her house.”
“Thanks, Brett. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
Maybe it was quilting night, Brett reasoned as he headed across the dark field, flashlight in hand. Or maybe she had a date. On a Thursday? Probably not. Maybe she was still working. That seemed the most reasonable answer, even if it was going on seven o’clock.
Claire pulled into her driveway just as Brett rounded the rear of her trailer. He turned off the flashlight and thought about disappearing when she got out of her car, but then noticed that she was looking…rough. Her white blouse and her face were smeared with a dark substance, which he hoped wasn’t blood. It was hard to tell in the fluorescent glow of the yard light. And her skirt was ripped up the side.
Alarmed, he stepped out of the darkness, his movement obviously startling her, and then he saw to his relief that the stains were not blood.
“What are you doing here?” she asked with a remarkable amount of dignity, considering the fact that she was green.
“Regan called. She was worried about you.”
“Oh, that’s right. I was supposed to—” She broke off and frowned at Brett. “Well, thanks for checking on me. I’ll give her a call.”
“You want to tell me what happened?”
She shook her head. “No. I think I’ll employ that we-need-to-keep-our-own-space rule you invented.”
“Suit yourself.” His mouth tightened as he fought with himself. She was vertical, obviously not hurt—physically, anyway. He’d love to know how she’d gotten smeared with green gunk, but it was none of his business. Still…“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?” She walked past him into her house, the tear in her skirt exposing a lot of leg as she disappeared. The door closed with a thump.
Brett stared at it for a moment, then turned his flashlight on again and started back across the field.
This was not going to be a restful school year.
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