The Suicide Club

“Yours, too.”

“Mine are like all the others. They date. They hang out. They drive around. They stay out too late—”

“They burn churches.”

She closed her mouth, fighting to control her surge of anger. She was pleased with how rational she managed to sound when she was able to respond. “Not in my opinion. And I’ve yet to hear any credible evidence to the contrary.”

“Normally we don’t share that kind of evidence.”

“But you have it?”

She could hear the blatant need for reassurance in her question. Tuesday she’d been convinced that he was bluffing. Fishing for information. In the intervening days, for no reason she could pinpoint, that conviction had weakened.

“Despite the acknowledged charms of Ray Garrett’s recent pep talk, why else would I be here?”

And that was what bothered her. His surety. She could probably put that down to an inherent arrogance. A sense of self-worth that might have been born of success, but one that might also be based on nothing more than a mistaken belief in the superiority of anything not native to the region.

Like Jace Nolan himself.

“You caught me off guard on Tuesday, but since then…I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

She sensed that his attention had sharpened. The sensation was so strong it was almost physical.

“And?”

“And in all honesty,” she said, each word carefully enunciated, “none of my kids would do anything like that.”

“You just said they were like all the others. I’ve been doing a lot of research into the annals of youthful offenses around here. Despite the bucolic nature of the environment, these kids appear to get involved in the same kinds of criminal activities that they do in any other locale.”

“In the ten years I’ve been here, I can’t remember one of my students being mixed up in anything like that.”

“How would you know?”

“What?”

“Juvenile records are routinely sealed. Parents are under no obligation to tell the school about any charges or probations imposed on their children.”

“You’ve forgotten where you are, Detective Nolan. Everybody knows everything about everyone around here.”

“Except nobody knows who burned those churches. Or don’t you believe that?”

“Do you?”

“It doesn’t match my experience. Kids talk. Unless there’s a very strong reason not to.”

“Like a fear of prosecution. Or going to jail?”

“I meant talk among their peers.”

“As angry as people in this community are, whoever burned those churches would have to be very stupid to do that.”

“Bingo,” Nolan said, turning back to look into the gym.

The cheerleaders were gathering up their megaphones for a last cheer at center court. After that the band would play everyone out with another repetition of the fight song.

A few teachers and some of the parents were already making a break toward the two pairs of double doors. Although the other adults might continue to the parking lot, most of the faculty would do what she was doing: stand near the entrances to supervise the dismissal.

The fact that Lindsey was talking to the chief detective in charge of investigating the arsons would be noticed. It would undoubtedly cause comment and maybe even questions, neither of which she was eager to deal with.

“If that’s your so-called evidence for thinking my kids were involved—”

“It does make sense, doesn’t it?”

A couple of people had reached the doorway where they were standing, providing Lindsey with an excuse to move off to the side. After nodding in response to the curious stares of departing parents, Nolan followed.

“You and Carlisle seem to be right.”

“I’m sorry?” Had Shannon’s ex actually approached him?

“You said everybody here knows everybody’s business. I guess they know everybody, too. They seem to be trying to figure out who I am and why I’m here.”

“We’ve all been warned often enough about strangers in the school.”

“Except I had no trouble walking right into the building. Not on Tuesday. Not today. Apparently your administration doesn’t take those kinds of warnings very seriously.”

“The curiosity you admit to arousing is, in itself, a safeguard.”

“Against outsiders. Statistically, however, that isn’t the real threat in any high school.”

He was right, of course. The school tragedies in this country had almost all been student-directed.

That didn’t mean that the students here posed a threat, she reminded herself. Just as the fact the arsons had occurred in this general vicinity didn’t mean anyone from this community had been involved.

The 3:00 p.m. bell rang, preventing her from having to formulate an answer. Kids poured out of the gym in a wave, the sound of the band seeming to add to the general sense of chaos. In response to the flood of students, Nolan grasped her elbow, directing her away from the doors.

She had been conscious of the feel of his hand on her arm when he’d attempted to steady her outside Dave’s office. Today, the warmth of his fingers seemed to burn into her bare skin. She was aware of their strength and hardness. Sensitive to their callused roughness. Totally masculine and yet surprisingly pleasant.

Surprising. Like the length of his lashes and the sensual appeal of that five-o’clock shadow. Even his voice, despite the unfamiliarity of the accent, was intriguing.

Realizing that she was in danger of being overly intrigued, she pulled her elbow from his grip. “I have to go back upstairs and get some papers from my room.”

It was a lie. She had decided she wasn’t going to do any grading this weekend. She was working the gate at the game tonight, and she intended to sleep in tomorrow. The few essays she needed to finish for her fifth period class could be done during her free period Monday.

“So I take it you aren’t interested in being my guide to Friday night in Randolph.”

In the unfamiliar rush of emotions she’d forgotten his invitation. She didn’t intend to accept. Not until she’d had time and space to control her physical response to Jace Nolan.

“I don’t think so. Not when you seemed to be so tightly focused on my kids as the perpetrators.”