Teacher Beware (A Grace Ellery Romantic Suspense Book 1) (14 page)

THE RIPE TOMATO is a classic Italian restaurant. There are red tablecloths, the scent of garlic floating in the air, and silver candelabras with three white candles. I sit down, the hostess hands me a menu and sets another one across from me.

"Would you like a drink?" she asks. "We have a velvety Chardonnay that is loved by everyone."

"Could I just get two waters?" I ask.

"Absolutely."

As she walks away, I unroll my silverware. The salad fork, the dinner fork, the spoon, and finally…the knife falls out. The knife. It could freak out Grace. I take the rolled up silverware across from me and unroll it. I take the knife and set it behind the candelabra. I put my own knife with it.

"What are you doing?"

I glance up to see Grace. She is dressed in a short black dress with white gold chandelier earrings, but the stunning thing about her is her peridot eye shadow, which compliments her green eyes.

I stand up and pull her chair out for her.

"Wow," she says, sitting down. "Chivalry isn't dead."

"I'm just being a decent person." I return to my seat.

"You're more than decent," she says. She notices her unraveled silverware. She looks up at me, raising her eyebrow.

"Uh, well, there was a knife and I thought…you might not want it near you." I gesture toward the knives behind the candelabra.

"Oh," she says. "That's really thoughtful of you. I hadn't thought of that. I haven't gone out to eat much since the attack."

A waitress walks up to the table and sets down two glasses of water.

"Would you like anything else to drink?" she asks. Grace and I shake our heads, and the waitress walks away.

Grace's looks back toward the knives. "Do you think I'm weird because of the knife thing?"

"What? No," I tell her. "It's completely understandable."

"It's been two years," she says. "You don't think I should be over it by now?"

"No, not if you're not ready to deal with it."

She tilts her head. Slowly she slides her hand across the table with her palm open. I put my hand in hers and she wraps her fingers around it.

"Do you have that Swiss Army knife on you?" she asks. I nod. "Can you get it out?"

"Are you sure?"

"No, but I might as well try to face my fears, right?" she asks.

I pull out the Swiss Army knife from my pocket and set it down on the table. Her grip around my hand tightens and she leans back slightly. Her eyes are glued to the knife.

"Hey," I say, trying to snap her out of it. She glances up at me.

"Sorry," she says. "I'm fine. Can you open it? So the blade part is out?"

I keep watch of her as I slide the blade out. Her whole body tenses and she leans farther away.

"Tell me if you want me to put it away," I tell her, and I feel her hand trembling before I see it.

"Hello!" A waiter exclaims as he steps up to the table. Grace flinches, jerking her hand out of my grasp. "Are you ready to order?"

"I'm sorry," Grace murmurs. "I can't. I'm not ready. I can't do this."

She stands up and walks toward the entrance doors of The Ripe Tomato.

"Did I do something wrong?" the waiter asks, his cheeks red with embarrassment. I grab the Swiss Army knife, snap the blade back in, and shove it back in my pocket. I walk past the waiter as he looks on bewildered.

Once I'm outside of the restaurant, I find Grace lighting her cigarette ten feet away from the doors, next to a cigarette receptacle. I stroll over to her.

"I'm sorry." She puts the cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. She pulls it away and breathes out a stream of smoke. "I thought I could deal with it."

"You did well considering what happened to you."

"I did terrible. I freaked out in a restaurant."

"You did fine."

I take a step closer to her. I run my fingertips down her arm. I lean in and kiss her. She smiles, kissing me back. I can taste the smoke on her breath along with the fear that still resides in her. I put my hands on her waist and she places her arm on my shoulder so that the cigarette doesn't get between us. As I kiss her, longer and harder, she moves closer to me. Our bodies are fully pressed against each other and I don't even remember the chill of the November air.

Her fingers move down to my hip. They touch the knife hidden in my pocket. After a second of hesitation, she takes it out. She steps back, holding the knife carefully in her hand. She stubs out her cigarette on the receptacle then throws it out. She gazes down at the knife in her hand.

She pulls out the blade, millimeter by millimeter. When it's fully out, she stares at her reflection in the steel.

"Twenty-seven stitches. That's how many I needed after the attack." Her gaze fixed on the knife.

I remember the scars along her abdomen. When I had slept with her, I knew they were from the attack, but that's not how I saw them. They added character to her body—it was art that defined her body as unique…as someone who had fought to get to where she is.

"I was told that if the ambulance had been five minutes late, I wouldn't have survived."

"But you did," I say.

"I did," she agrees. She turns the knife in her hand. Both of our reflections stare back at us. I stick my tongue out and she laughs. She snaps the blade back in, and hands it back to me. I slide the knife into my pocket.

I lean in to kiss her. She doesn't taste like fear anymore.

~~~~~

I RAISE MY HEAD, as a Disney song—perhaps from
The Lion King
—plays, and I search for my phone when I remember I no longer have it. "Is that your morning alarm?"

Sam's hand reaches out and grabs his phone off the hotel's nightstand. "Yes. Don't make fun of me," he says.

"I wouldn't," I say. "You don't want to know what my morning alarm song is."

"Is it worse than the 'Circle of Life'?"

"Absolutely."

"Is it Marvin Gaye?" He begins to croon a Marvin Gaye song. I hit his shoulder and he laughs.

"No. Imagine if I heard that waking up next to you every morning, I would always be late," I say. He cups the side of my face and kisses me. It's soft, sweet, and sincere.

"I'd make it worth it."

"I'm sure you would." I swing my leg over his waist and straddle him. His body tenses and a smile spreads across his face. "But I actually have to work sometimes. And I'm pretty sure that you do, too."

He glances at the clock and groans. "Yeah. I need to get going. Do you need to work today?"

"No, but I need to be at the high school at five to set up for the middle school fall dance. Do you think you could take me with you when you go to the school if I don't get my truck back in the next eight hours?"

"Are you sure you want to go to the school? Especially after hours?" he asks.

"I have an officer following me, so I'm not too worried. Besides, the other option is to be alone in this hotel room. I really can't let the school down any more than I have. They already think I'm a flake that brings shooters to their school."

"Well, I've met some of the parents and teachers and I can tell you that most of them are crazy. They don't know what they're talking about."

~~~~~

WOODS ON THREE SIDES surround the lacrosse field. It seems to be one of the few parts of uptown Murray that hasn't been overtaken by commercial buildings. I rest my shotgun on a fallen mossy log. A van drives up to the field and two teenagers get out, carrying their lacrosse sticks, helmets, and pads.

I wait, but only students arrive at the field with a few parents staying to watch practice. Dr. Meadows is late. I knew I couldn't go after Miss Ellery anymore. The police would be watching after her. But, Dr. Meadows still could have seen something and his death is certain to get enough attention that the police will have to drop Albert as a suspect.

After most of the team is on the field, throwing the ball between each other, the Dodge Charger drives into the parking lot. Dr. Meadows gets out alone. My shotgun is aimed near the bleachers where the team has set up a water cooler. My finger is itching to pull the trigger, but I have to wait. I get one shot. If I miss, the team panics and they will be running all over. They will block my chance of hitting Dr. Meadows a second time and they could run over here into the woods. I can't risk it.

My whole body tenses as Dr. Meadows walks up to the water cooler as he talks to the team. There's two players in front of him. I can't take the shot. I have no issues with middle school kids—unless I have to. This will determine if Albert goes to prison or not for the rest of his life. Albert won't survive in prison. His old age is one thing—his racism will become a whole new issue behind bars.

Then a young woman with black hair appears with a young man carrying a camera. Lexi. Annoying Lexi with her stupid film. Anger changes into amusement as she and the man set up a camera and some lights. It would certainly knock her down a few pegs if Dr. Meadows was shot while she was filming. That would teach her true terror.

It would be perfect. It would not only give concrete proof that Albert is innocent in the murders, but it would also create more publicity. People will avoid coming into Murray after they see the video of a doctor and lacrosse coach getting shot. If their children aren't safe, then it's not worth moving to the town.

The lacrosse team puts on wind jackets with a logo of a swimmer on the back. Lexi directs the boys to run as if they are terrified. Her cameraman has trouble catching the men as they run, so Lexi takes the camera and holds it. She stays with the team as they run down the field, screaming as if something is chasing them. I wait for her to be pointing the camera at Dr. Meadows.

Then she points the camera right at me.

There is a millisecond, in which my only thought is, essentially,
oh
. Oh, I've been caught. Oh, it's over. Oh, Albert will forever be known as the grandfather of a killer with two family members dead and one in prison.

The next millisecond, my thoughts change to a different word—
no.

Lexi turns her head, dropping the camera.

"He has a gun!" she screams. She grabs two of the middle school kids and pushes them away from the field. There is a moment of confusion in which nobody moves except Lexi. Then…

"Everybody get off the field!" Dr. Meadows yells. "Get away from the woods!"

Parents rush to their kids and yank them toward the parking lot. The other kids runs with them while Dr. Meadows and Lexi make sure that every kid is heading in the right direction. Adrenaline pumps through me so fast that I feel like I could explode. I am the weapon of mass destruction.

I eye Lexi over the gun barrel. I had come here to kill Dr. Meadows, but now Lexi has definitely seen me. She hasn't said my name yet, so this is my only chance. She turns away from me to help a kid who fell down as I pull the trigger.

Lexi falls to the ground. I had been aiming for her chest, but since she turned and bent down, I'm not sure where I hit her. I try to aim for her again, but Dr. Meadows has already scooped her into his arms and is running toward the parking lot.

Her camera is still on the field. If anyone looks at the footage, they'll see me.

Fuck.

I run onto the field, hoping everyone is too distracted by Lexi to notice me. I grab the camera and run forward to keep my momentum. I decide to keep heading to the school. If I go back to the woods, I'm bound to leave tracks, which will lead the police straight to me. No one will be in the school and I'll be able to hide until the investigation is over.

~~~~~

ONE OF THE PARENTS—Mrs. Hall or Mrs. Hill, I can't remember—opens the back of her minivan when she sees me running with Lexi.

"Put her down here," she says. "We need to see where she was shot."

It's Mrs. Hill. A nurse.

I try to gently lay Lexi in the back of the van, but she seems to be in too much shock to feel any pain. Or worse, her spine was hit. She grabs my arm as I set her down.

"The shooter…" Her breathing is labored as her eyelids begin to close. "The camera. I saw…"

Her eyes close and her head lolls back. Her hand goes slack and drops away from my arm.

"Lexi!" I yell. "Lexi, stay awake!"

I shift her body slightly to find the bullet hole that is an inch away from her spine on the left. It seems like the bullet could have hit the pancreas, which isn't a vital organ, but I can't take any risks. I take a scarf from around her neck, and press it against the wound.

"We need to get her to the hospital," Mrs. Hill says. "Do you want me to stay in back with her or do you want to?"

"I'll stay in back," I say. I've known Lexi since she was a baby. She's the daughter of my best friend. As I situate myself in the back of the van, the police officer who was trailing Grace, Officer Rooney, runs up to me.

"What happened?" he asks. "I heard gunshots. Was somebody hurt?"

"Why aren't you with Grace?" I demand. The officer looks at me, wide-eyed.

"I heard gunshots," he repeats. "I thought I was needed here."

I look toward the school.

Grace or Lexi? I glance down at Lexi, whose face is chalk white.

"The shooter was in the woods. Go find Grace," I tell Rooney. "Make sure she's okay. I have to take care of Lexi."

The officer seems distracted, but he nods. He takes off his walkie-talkie off his belt and begins to tell the station what happened, his eyes scanning the woods. I don't hear anymore as Mrs. Hill closes the minivan's trunk door.

~~~~~