Warning Signs (Love Inspired Suspense) (4 page)

Owen followed the two into the office and watched Nick gently put a disheveled Miriam in a chair. The hair that had been twisted up in the back so neatly a few hours ago now hung in thick, teased clumps around her shoulders. No trace of the earlier humor in her eyes remained.

Nick reached his hands out to hold her face and to pull her attention to him. His thumbs gently wiped her tear-streaked cheeks. He knelt in front of her and signed to her slowly. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you anymore. This is going to stop now. If you won’t call the police, I will. You understand?”

Miriam didn’t reply. She looked over at Owen with red-rimmed eyes full of fear. The fact she didn’t hide it now twisted Owen’s gut. He took a step closer to her, not sure what he meant to actually do when he reached her. He wished more than anything the mischievous twinkling would fill her eyes again.

That
he
could be the one to restore it.

Focus on the case, Matthews. This was not an accident, and you need to figure out how it’s related.

“Are you sure her car is gone?” he asked Nick, trying to put the pieces together. He remembered that tidbit of info Nick had told him earlier.

Understanding of where Owen was going with that dawned on Nick’s face, and he nodded emphatically. “It’s not in the parking lot. That’s why I thought she’d left.”

“Then someone stole her car.”

Miriam inhaled sharply as her head shook back and forth, her face a mixture of different emotions. Shock, denial and disbelief paraded across it. She obviously had read his lips accurately. She jumped to her feet; her words sped so fast her hands tripped over each other. “Someone stole my car? This is crazy! I have never done anything to the people in this town. Why do they want to hurt me like this?”

Nick began to translate, his voice filled with deep sadness, projecting the pain she felt with each word. He obviously knew her well enough to know her words were not filled with anger. Owen wondered how deep their relationship went—and why he cared.

He backed a step away, reaching for his cell phone to put his mind on a different, more innocuous, track. “I’ll call Wes to report the stolen car,” he announced. “How far could it go on this island, anyway? I’m sure we’ll find it.”

At the same time Owen would find out who was behind the threats and put a stop to them. Because there was only one thing worse than being responsible for destroying a pure heart.

Not protecting one.

FOUR

“T
he breaker to the bathroom was shut off.” An elderly custodian stepped into Owen’s classroom, moving at a snail’s pace and hunched so far, Owen thought he might topple right over. He shuffled to the chair beside Owen’s desk and plopped down into it.

“As in
someone
flipped the switch.” Owen closed the Shakespeare book and tossed it onto the desk. He’d studied it as much as he could. Any more details would fall out of his head now.

“Exactly. I would say someone meant for Ms. Hunter to spend the night in the dark.” He offered a hand to shake. “Len Smith.”

Owen eyed the man carefully before taking his hand. A hint of an accent on the man’s lips caught his attention. German, maybe? “Owen Matthews. Nice to meet you, and, yeah, I would say the same thing. You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas, would you?”

“Me? No, but I’ll be sure to keep a watchful eye out for any more deviant behavior raised against Ms. Hunter.” Len shook a crooked finger. “Her grandfather and I went way back.” The man cleared his throat, hacking away while Owen watched to be sure he would survive the spasm. “Hans and Trudy were good people. They would be heartbroken to see their only granddaughter treated so harshly, especially by someone here on Stepping Stones.”

“When did they pass away?” Owen took the opportunity to sneak a backdoor peek through the screen of Miriam’s life. For the case, he told himself, but that didn’t explain the tentacles threading around his larynx. Owen rubbed absently at his neck.

“Trudy died two years ago, but it’s been about ten years now since Hans went on to his eternal home. He was a bit younger than me, but a good friend.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, sir?”

“Ninety-one years old.” Len’s chest puffed with pride.

“And still working? That’s amazing.” Owen wondered why but refrained from asking.

“Nah, Alec lets me push a broom around so I still feel needed.”

“Alec?”

“Alec Thibodaux is the head honcho of custodial engineering.” Len cackled. “Not a day goes by he doesn’t remind me that he’s in charge. I just remind him that I still sit on the school board and write his paycheck.”

Owen appreciated Len’s laid-back manner. “Likes to throw his weight around, does he?”

Len smiled and waved a gnarled hand at Owen’s comment. “He’s a good guy, and one swanky dresser.”

“Oh, I think I saw him yesterday when I arrived. I’m glad he lets you help out around here.”

“Yes, well, regardless of what happened to Ms. Hunter last night, Stepping Stones is made up of good people. We care about each other.”

“Apparently not everyone feels the same way.”

Len’s bent shoulders fell in more. “I hate to agree with you, son, but you might be onto something there.”

“Can you think of any reason why someone would target her?”

“Funny how you sound more like a cop than an English teacher.” Len’s eyes twinkled.

“Why? Is my prose a little rough around the edges?”

“Just a tad.”

“Will I be able to fool the kids, you think?”

Len waved a hand. “You’ll be fine. Kids don’t pay much attention to adults. You must know that from your own kids, right?”

Owen floundered in his answer, not sure what the older gentleman would think if Owen told him it was the other way around for him. That it was the adult withholding the attention.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Matthews. I just assumed you were married with children.”

Owen’s gut twisted at the mention of marriage. “I was once.” He swallowed with a gulp. “My wife died.”

Len’s head bounced in understanding. “Ah, me, too. Death is hard, but it can be even harder for the people left behind. I guess all we can do is honor our loved ones who have passed on, huh?”

“Yeah,” Owen whispered. He let the pain of his guilt fill his chest once again. How could he have allowed himself to forget her so easily? To forget he’d taken his son’s mother away from him? Because of golden-red hair blowing in the breeze? Because a pair of amused gray eyes had weakened him into thinking he’d been punished enough? Was that it?

Well, no more,
he scolded himself.
Locate those drugs, find the source and get off this island.
That was the plan he would stick to.

“Mr. Matthews,” Len’s voice rasped. “How do you suppose one goes about honoring those loved ones?”

“By not allowing yourself to forget,” Owen ground out.

“Nope.” Len sighed with a shake of his head. “You honor them by picking up your broom and pushing on.”

* * *

Miriam edged to the side of the door so she could observe Agent Matthews’s class through the long, thin window without giving herself away. Students sat at their desks; some sprawled across the tops, while others passed notes. One of them even slept.

Perhaps she should reconsider Owen Matthews as a substitute English teacher.

Originally she’d thought it would be beneficial to keep him busy. But that was before last night. If it hadn’t been for him, she would have spent the night on the floor of that dark bathroom alone. Was he there to bring about her demise or to help her?

Miriam changed her position enough to bring him into her peripheral sight. He stood at the chalkboard, scrawling out Shakespeare’s sonnet “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” She’d always liked that poem and its reminder that every life has value and wants to be remembered.

Miriam knew she wasn’t being very nice putting Agent Matthews in this class. She sure wasn’t valuing him by setting him up to fail. She placed her hand on the doorknob but waited for Agent Matthews to finish writing before interrupting his class. He might not be reaching the kids at the moment, but disrupting his teaching could cut him down even more in the students’ eyes.

Agent Matthews dropped the chalk on the ledge and rubbed his hands together as he faced the class. Thinking this might be a good time, Miriam turned the knob to enter, but a hand gripped her forearm and yanked her back before she could.

Startled, Miriam swung around to find Nick. Eyes emblazoned with anger stared back at her. “What’s wrong?” she signed.

“What’s wrong?” Nick’s hands slapped out. “How about the fact you can so easily forget that man is here to get you fired. I know what you were about to do—give him an easier class. I can see it on your face. How can you roll over after everything you’ve done to get to where you are?”

Miriam peered back through the window. Agent Matthews had come around the desk to prop himself on the edge; his arms were folded across his chest. His white dress shirt stretched tight across his wide back. He smiled at something someone said. A dimple dented his clean-shaven cheek.

Miriam’s breath hitched at the sight, and she immediately lost her focus. Flustered, she dropped her hand to her side and stepped back from the door.

Nick was right. How could she forget so easily? Her life was an uphill battle to prove she had value. She was not some dumb mute. She couldn’t let people forget that. She had to wipe out any obstacle in her way.

Especially the handsome dimpled ones that made
her
forget.

* * *

The school bell rang, and the students raced for the door without a backward glance. Owen had no idea if he’d connected with any of them. He circled his desk and grabbed the eraser to wipe away the poem. Words that expressed Shakespeare’s vow to remember someone in his life. A promise to honor the memory for all time.

Rebecca filled his mind, and Owen viciously wiped away the chalked words.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see / So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

What had Owen done to keep Rebecca’s memory alive? He’d taken her pictures down because he couldn’t bear to look at them anymore. Did that stop her image from haunting him anyway?

No.

He couldn’t speak about her to her own son without guilt weighing on him. Did that mean Cole didn’t want to know about her?

No. It only jammed more of a wedge between him and his son. It only piled more guilt onto the stifling amount that existed.

And it only made Rebecca’s life less significant. As though she’d never existed in the first place.

“Mr. Matthews?” A voice yanked him from his torment.

He cleared his throat as he cleared his mind. “Yes, what can I do for you? I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Ben Thibodaux.”

Owen focused on the boy’s face and remembered him sitting at the back of the class. Ben’s double silver disc earrings sparkled from his ears, in contrast to his dark and dull clothing. His black painted lips matched his eyeliner. This kid must really irk the quaint people of Stepping Stones, Owen thought, but he withheld his judgment for the time being.

“Any relation to Alec, the janitor?” Owen asked.

“He’s my uncle, and he doesn’t like to be called that.”

Owen nodded. “I’ll remember that. So, let me guess. Billy Shakes gives you the shivers, and you need help? Am I right?”

The kid hesitated, scanning the hallway of passing students. Did he worry about getting caught actually talking to a teacher? Would that ruin his reckless image? “Yeah, you could say that. The thing is, I need to pass this class,” Ben said.

“You and everyone else.”

“Yeah, but I need to graduate and get off this island. Otherwise—” Half of Ben’s lower lip disappeared behind his upper teeth as it became gripped in their hold. If he bit down any harder, there would be blood. Owen came around the desk and propped himself against the front, a foot away from Ben. He gripped the edge of the desk as he waited to hear what Ben wanted to say.

“Otherwise what?” Owen urged him forward.

“Otherwise I won’t have anything to look forward to but a life of doing someone else’s bidding.”

Owen crossed his arms. “Whose bidding?”

The stark look of fear crossing Ben’s face had Owen holding his breath. Was this his lead coming to him already? Was Ben Thibodaux his link to the drug distributor?

“I gotta go.” Ben backed away, then raced for the door. “I’m gonna be late for my next class.”

Owen followed on his heels. “If you need to talk to me confidentially, you can. Remember that,” he managed to get out before Ben escaped the room, running right past Miriam and Nick. Owen disregarded them to follow Ben, but the boy disappeared through the crowd. One second he was there, the next, gone.

“I need to see his file,” Owen said with his back to the duo. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nick translate.

“You can’t have the file,” Nick replied.

Owen whipped around to face the principal. “Why’s that?”

“The file is gone,” she signed, and Nick interpreted.

* * *

“What do you mean the file is gone?” Owen’s words were pronounced so slowly, Miriam didn’t need Nick to translate. The agent’s tight, pursed lips and his dark, accusative stare said he thought she was keeping information from him. No doubt her ploy at assigning him an intensive class to teach had lost her a few points in the credibility department.

At a time when her credibility mattered most.

The man was there to investigate her. What had she been thinking? He was a federal agent, not a small-town sheriff.

It had seemed like a good idea in the beginning. Keep him busy and out of her hair while she did her own snooping around. Except here he stood, leaning into her, close enough to smell her cherry blossom shampoo. She might as well get used to it.

Miriam waved a hand to move them back into the classroom and away from young, intrigued eyes.

Stiffly, Agent Matthews reentered the room, his gaze still riveted on her. Miriam instructed Nick to interpret while she signed. “Regardless of what Sheriff Grant has told you, I am not the bad guy here. I care about this school and want these drugs gone from this island as much as he does.”

Heavy scrutiny filled his eyes. “Then give me the file.”

“I don’t know where the file is. That’s what I was looking for last night before I got locked in the bathroom. I noticed it was missing when I was searching through each student file.” Her hands stilled for a moment. “May I ask why you want the file? Ben has had some trouble in the past, but I don’t believe he’s dealing drugs. Unless you have some type of evidence I should know about?”

Agent Matthews’s lips moved too quickly to read and Nick translated with the typical lag. Miriam kept them both in her vision, going back and forth between the two men’s faces. A disjointed way of living, but necessary to survive and succeed in this world.

“He just seems like the type to be involved in criminal behavior.” Nick signed the agent’s words.

Miriam shrunk back, unsure if she read the signs correctly. “What a horrible thing to say!” Eyes flashed and red blotches colored the agent’s cheeks. Miriam wondered what
he
had to be angry about. “Do you always judge people by their looks when carrying out your investigations?” Miriam demanded.

Agent Matthews squeezed his hands together, his face mottled with suppressed rage. He looked like he really wanted to say something and struggled to hold back. Perhaps he was mad that she’d called him out on his prejudice.

He said nothing, though. His chest heaved. His lips sealed tightly as his gaze darted to Nick.

Miriam made up her mind that tomorrow she would give him the world history class to teach, as well.
If
she couldn’t get rid of him sooner. “I don’t think you’re the right person for this job, not if that’s the way you carry out your work. I have these students to protect, and I think you should leave.” Miriam pointed to the doorway, leaving her hand extended in the air.

He stepped closer, tripping her up for a second. Miriam pushed herself to her full height, eye level with his chin. He paused in front of her. She raised her chin a notch while his gaze held hers. Miriam stomped her foot and pointed harder at the exit.

It did nothing to move him along. What it did do was cause his lips to curl up ever so slightly. She could have sworn his black eyes softened on her. Before she could assess if that was the case, the dark ire they’d held a moment ago flashed defiantly back at her. He didn’t say anything. Not one part of his body moved. His message was as clear as her stomping foot.