Secrets And Lies

“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 things to a lot of people, Ms. Martin,” James responded. “Unfortunately, that’s the way these cases usually work. Lots of questions asked over and over again. Did the chief give you permission to leave the scene?”

“She’s been cleared to go,” Tristan responded. “I’m going to escort her and make sure she arrives home safely. At this point, that’s my top priority.”

She tensed at his words, but she didn’t protest them.

“Good,” James said. “If the guy was planning this, if he found out information to help him achieve his goal, there’s no guarantee he won’t go after her somewhere else.” He held up the paper, so that Tristan could read the handwritten words.

Desert Valley High School

Room 119

Ariel Martin

They were scrawled in black ink, every i dotted with a circle. The A underlined.

Ariel took a step back, her gaze focused on the paper, her face leeched of color. Freckles dotted her nose and her cheeks, giving the impression of youth, but there was maturity in her eyes—a deep knowledge of what it meant to struggle, to suffer and to survive.

She’d been through a lot. Now she was going through more. That bothered him. It made him want to do everything in his power to keep her safe.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yes. I...” She pressed her lips together, sealing in whatever she’d planned to say. “You’ll think I’m nuts.”

“There are a lot worse things that people can be,” he responded, and she smiled, a dimple flashing in her right cheek. She had a pretty smile, a soft one.

“True. The thing about the letter...the writing looks really familiar.”

“A student?” James suggested.

“No. My ex-husband.”

“Did you part on good terms?” James asked. “Is it possible—?”

“He’s dead.” Tristan cut in. There was no sense walking down that road. A dead man didn’t write notes. He didn’t carry a gun. He didn’t stalk his ex.

“That blows a hole in my theory, then,” James responded, carefully placing the note in an evidence bag.

“What about the writing made you think of your ex?” Tristan asked Ariel.

“Mitch always underlined the A in my name, and he always used circles to dot i’s.”

“That’s information anyone could have known,” he pointed out. “Friends, coworker, family. Most would have seen his writing at one point or another.”

“He didn’t have family. It was one of the things that brought us together. Two college students with no one.” She blushed, shook her head. “It’s an old story, and there’s no reason to tell it now. I can get you a list of Mitch’s associates, but I can’t guarantee that I know all of them. He was involved in some things I didn’t know about until after he died.”