Because of a Girl (20 page)

“She'd never tell me who he was.” She gulped. “Only, a couple of times, she almost slipped. And...it sounded like it might be a
teacher
she was sleeping with.” She knew she was begging him to say she had to be wrong. “But how could it be? I mean, they're mostly married. At least, Mr. Bouchard is, and I know she had a thing for him. Mr. Fuentes isn't, but...” She bit her lip.

“He's engaged.”

She nodded. “He talks about his fiancée all the time. Like he's really in love with her.”

“I had that impression, too,” Jack agreed.

So then she told him what Kimberly Dearing said, about seeing Sabra with Mr. Hurn, too. “But he's
old
,” she said. “And not cute
at all
.”

Jack's mouth twitched, like he thought she was funny, but then he frowned. “I didn't talk to him.”

“That's because Sabra doesn't have any classes with him.” She explained what Mr. Hurn taught. “So I don't even know why she'd have been talking to him.”

Jack's jaw set in a way Emily had seen before. “You can bet I'll be finding out,” he promised. “And I'll take another look at several of the male teachers.”

Another?
Then...he'd thought the same thing already. “What do you mean?”

“I know none of them were absent that day. At least, not all day. What I didn't think to ask was whether any had reason to be gone for a short time.”

“Practically all of them have teacher's aides,” she said. “Sometimes the TAs monitor a class during a quiz. The office might not even know.”

Jack's unblinking stare was a little unnerving, but she finished, “Mr. Bouchard does that sometimes.”

“Fuentes?”

She shook her head. “He hasn't for my class.”

“What's your best guess, Emily?”

She swallowed, then mumbled, “Mr. Bouchard. Sometimes...he smiled different at her than at any of the rest of us.”

Just for a moment, his expression scared her as much as everything else that had happened. But he must have noticed, because he hid whatever he'd been thinking and nodded at her.

“Dr. Frenzel is right. You did good, kid.”

Hot tears filled her eyes. “But it's my fault!” she wailed. “You
told
me not to ask questions, only I did, and I bet he heard.”

“I bet he did, too,” Jack said grimly, but he also stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her again.

Having him hold her felt really different than having Mom hugging her. Especially since she'd never had a father. Having him around at all was different. But listening to his heart beat steadily and feeling the strength of his arms, Emily was incredibly glad he was there.

She even thought she might not mind if he and Mom got married.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

M
EG
HAD
A
miserable night. She kept wishing Jack was at her bedside, maybe holding her hand or smoothing her hair back from her face, in that tender way he did. But she'd a thousand times rather he was with Emily, keeping her safe. And it wasn't as if she'd hurt any less if he was here.

Even with painkillers, she couldn't get comfortable. Her head was the worst. It felt like a tunnel had been drilled to allow a freight train to roar through. But her back and hip and shoulder and arm all hurt, too. Every time she dropped off, adrenaline would jerk her awake. Sometimes she saw Emily, unmoving, in the shockingly bright light cast by those high beams. The roar of the engine drowned out the hospital sounds. Knowing she'd be too late, every cell of her body committed to
not
being too late, Meg felt herself stretching, leaping. The incredible force of the collision, flinging her into the air.

And every time she woke up, she thought again,
He came. Right away. He was scared for me.
And maybe as important,
He took care of Emily, too, when he didn't have to.
When she remembered the way he'd looked at her, her chest hurt, too, but in a good way. Because she found herself thinking that she could trust Jack Moore.

A cheerful aide brought breakfast. Meg gritted her teeth when the head of the bed rose. She didn't even have to try to know she didn't want to lift her right arm. She wasn't sure she didn't feel worse than she had when first regaining consciousness.

Clumsily, she reached for the metal teapot with her left hand.

“Mom?” Emily appeared around the curtain, her eyes huge and apprehensive.

Meg's own eyes filled with tears. It didn't matter that she hurt. Emily was okay.
I wasn't too late.
She blinked hard and sniffed. “Oh, honey.”

As she had in the emergency room, Emily approached tentatively. “You look
awful
. Do you hurt?”

“Mostly my head.”
Lie, lie.
“Remember how you felt after you got thrown by Shannon's horse?”

Nose crinkled, Emily said, “I guess it's kind of the same, isn't it?”

Meg smiled. Laughing was out; her head might shatter. “Yes, it is.”

“I bet you'd feel better if you had a really hot bath.”

“Which I'll take as soon as I get home.” If she could manage to get into the tub.

“Hey.” Jack stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes smiling. “You're alive.”

She tried to make a face at him, only it was too painful. Sad to say, she knew now what she looked like. With help, she'd tottered the few feet to the bathroom, where she had gaped at herself in the mirror.

He came around the bed and bent to kiss her cheek, his lips soft. They touched the bridge of her nose, then traveled to her temple, where they lingered before he straightened and looked down with warm eyes. “Hope you don't mind me keeping Emily out of school today. We're here to break you out.”

“Really?” She sounded so eager it was pitiful.

“Unfortunately, we have to wait for the doctor to sign off on your escape. But we'll keep you company until then.” He disappeared around the curtain, coming back with a chair.

“Can I sit on the bed?” Emily asked.

“Okay by me.”

“That breakfast looks gross.”

Actually, Meg hadn't thought it looked bad, except her jaw ached along with her cheekbone. She could manage the scrambled eggs, she thought.

While they waited for a doctor to come by, Emily chattered and Jack made occasional interjections in his deep, calm voice. They'd had hamburgers and French fries on the way home from the hospital last night, Emily told her.

“I didn't even know I was hungry 'til I smelled the French fries.”

Meg moaned. “That sounds way better than the eggs and cold toast.”

“I made waffles for breakfast. Jack says he's never seen anyone make them from scratch.”

“Best waffle I've ever had,” he agreed.

His phone kept ringing. Each time, he excused himself and stepped out into the hall.

“He's popular this morning,” she commented after he disappeared for the third time.

“He says he was at a crime scene when I called yesterday. So it might be about that.” Emily fidgeted, suddenly not wanting to look at Meg. “I told him some stuff, too,” she finally confessed. “Who I think Sabra was with. Jack called Mr. Rivera
early
this morning, and he's talking to some students.”

“Which students?”

After a single woebegone look, Emily bent her head. “Mr. Bouchard's.”

Meg didn't have to close her eyes to see in Sabra's handwriting,
Mrs. Remy Bouchard. Sabra Bouchard.
She felt sick. Kids had crushes on teachers all the time. She knew in theory that teachers were known to violate every code of decency and have sex with students. But Mr. Bouchard? He'd seemed mature and pleasant when she'd spoken with him in November during parent-teacher conferences.

“Do you really think...?”

Despair made Emily look so young. “I don't know, Mom. She never told me. But—” Her shoulders hunched.

Meg held out her good arm. “Will you come here?”

Emily all but threw herself at her mother. The mattress compressed, and Meg winced, but it also felt good to feel Emily's head on her shoulder, to be able to hold her tight.

Safe.

For now.

“Mom?” It was a shaky whisper. “Um, there's stuff I didn't tell you.” Nothing in Emily's confession surprised Meg, not now that Jack seemed convinced.

Jack brought an end to her low-voiced reassurances when he returned, wearing his cop face. “If the doctor doesn't show up pretty quick, I may have to abandon you two for a while. You can call me when—”

A rapping at the door had his head turning.

While he and Emily waited in the hall, a new doctor examined Meg and agreed there was no reason she couldn't go home, as long as she took it easy. He scribbled a prescription for pain meds and told her the nurse would be in shortly with discharge papers.

Of course, it took another hour before Meg was actually allowed to leave. Emily and the nurse helped her get dressed while Jack went downstairs to the pharmacy to fill her prescription.

An orderly wheeled her through the hospital and out the automatic doors to the curb, where Jack was ready to lift her into his SUV. At home, he carried her as gently in and up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Emily can bring you anything you need. Don't try to go downstairs without help,” he ordered.

She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

“I'm going to start with a hot bath.”

Emily, who had been hovering in the doorway, said, “I'll do it, Mom,” and dashed away.

Jack cupped Meg's uninjured cheek. “You scared me,” he said hoarsely.

“Me, too,” she said softly.

He groaned and bent until his forehead rested against hers. “I'm afraid to touch you. And, damn, I want to.”

Her heart swelled. “I want you to. I wish—” She couldn't finish.

“You and me both.” His chest rose and fell with a deep, ragged breath. He lifted his head, his jaw set, eyes dark. “I need to go. I'll have Emily turn the dead bolt behind me. Don't let her answer the door. If you hear or see anything that worries you, call nine-one-one and then me. Do you understand?”

“He wouldn't come here.”

“I doubt it, but I don't want you taking any chances, either.” This kiss caught the corner of her mouth. “I'll call and check on you, and I'll be back when I can.”

“Jack?”

He stopped, his eyebrows up.

“Do you think Sabra is dead?”

Expression bleak, he only shook his head. “I don't know.”

Meg nodded. “Thank you. For coming right away and taking care of Emily. For being—” What she'd never had: a bulwark against a harsh world.

She had a feeling he understood. He came back, gave her another careful hug and kiss and finally left.

Even aching, exhausted and worried, she still had a giddy moment of happiness unlike anything she'd ever felt before.

* * *

R
IVERA
'
S
CALL
THIS
morning was the one Jack had been waiting for.

The principal's voice had been heavy. “Fred Hurn vaguely remembers ‘the pregnant girl' coming into his classroom. He says she seemed flustered and said she was looking for someone.”

“You believe him?”

“Yes. I've known him a long time. Fred has taught in the district for...has to be twelve, thirteen years.”

Jack had watched an aide pushing the meal cart down the hall, only half hearing the rattle. “And the other?”

Rivera's sigh was audible. “Took a while, but I found a student who still had the quiz wadded in the bottom of his backpack.”

Jack already knew that several students who had Mr. Bouchard second period said he had left a TA to supervise the last quiz they'd taken. “I don't even think he was back when the bell rang,” the girl had said.

Since his planning period was third period, he'd have had close to two hours to do...something.

“It was dated,” Rivera said. “You were right. Damn it.”

Jack had never heard him swear before. “Doesn't necessarily mean his absence during the one period had anything to do with Sabra.”

“Why didn't anyone see him leave?”

“He wouldn't have gone out by the office. And only a few classrooms face the parking lot. Ms. Guzman, whose room does, said she never even glanced out. Now, if we were to canvass the entire student body, chances are good we'd find some kids who did see him.”

Rivera had always seemed like a decent guy. If what they suspected was true, this was a real blow to him. Jack waited through a silence that stretched.

“I hope to God we're wrong,” the principal exploded.

“If we're wrong,” Jack had to remind him, “then we're no closer to finding Sabra Lee.”

He had thanked Rivera and returned to Meg's hospital room, hoping neither she nor Emily noted his dark mood.

He had no choice but to spend a good part of the day interviewing the Yarnells' friends and family, as well as employees at the dealership.

The wife's sister, Mary, who lived in Chicago, told him Denise had intended to leave her husband. “He wasn't physically abusive, but in my opinion he was emotionally abusive,” she said forthrightly, her voice colored by both anger and grief. “I spent years trying to get her to see that, but she wouldn't hear me. Once their youngest left for college, though, she wanted to take some classes herself or maybe start working. He put his foot down hard. The more she argued, the more he cracked down. He was calling a dozen times a day to make sure she hadn't gone anywhere that she hadn't already cleared with him. It got so unbearable, she told him she was leaving him.”

“And when was that, Mrs. Koepp?” he asked.

“Just over a week ago. She saw an attorney Monday. He encouraged her to let Phil think she was backing down, just to give them time to ensure he didn't move to hide assets.”

“And do you know that attorney's name?”

She did.

Jack spoke to him, too, verifying everything the sister had said. Meantime, Troy talked to a salesman at one of the dealerships who had happened to pass by his boss's office when he was screaming abuse at his wife.

When he told Jack later, Troy shook his head. “Shook the guy up. Sounds like Phil was Mr. Charm himself on the job. Employees thought they were lucky, and he was damn good at bringing in the big accounts. They had quite a few customers who bought their entire fleets from him.”

Jack grunted. “Barring any surprises from CSU or the autopsies, I think we can tie this one up.”

“To kill the person you love the most.” Troy shook his head. “I'll never get it.”

Jack wouldn't, either. The minute he was alone, he reached for his phone to call Meg. He needed to hear her voice.

The fact that thinking about love had immediately brought her to mind didn't disturb him as much as he might have expected.

He'd have gone straight to her if he hadn't had something he needed to do first.

* * *

M
OM
WAS
ASLEEP
when Jack called to say he'd be by around five thirty. Emily told him she was making dinner.

“You as good a cook as she is?” he asked.

“Nobody is as good a cook as Mom, but I know what I'm doing.”

“Then thank you, Emily.” And he was gone.

After Mom woke up, she insisted she could walk. As she made her way to the bathroom, Emily hovered but didn't have to help.

“And, yes,” Mom said, “I can make it down the stairs, too. But bless you for cooking.” And she gave Emily a soft smile—crooked because her jaw was still swollen—and hugged her, too.

Mom had begun moaning and groaning her way downstairs when the doorbell rang.

“Jack's going to be mad,” Emily warned.

Jack saw her the moment he stepped inside. “For God's sake,” he snapped and bounded up to meet her.

“I'm doing fine—”

“Sure you are.” He scooped her up like she didn't weigh anything, and carried her down the rest of the stairs. Mom waited until they reached the bottom before she punched his shoulder.

“I am not helpless!”

He set her carefully on her feet and kissed her forehead. “I know you aren't, but I like helping you,” he murmured, so quietly Emily knew what he said wasn't for her ears.

Emily had actually sort of cheated on dinner. Mom had made some pizza crusts from scratch and frozen several. All Emily had had to do was set two out to defrost and rise, make a sauce, grate cheese and do some chopping. This way everyone got to pick their favorite toppings.