Hide & Seek - James Patterson [68]
Something came up unexpectedly. I received a call to come to Jennie’s school. They said it was important. The Bedford Hills Academy’s administration building was a small, neat Victorian-style house that looked like a thriving country inn. As I hurried inside, students and office staff recognized me and tried not to stare. I waved to the kids I knew, and even to some I didn’t recognize.
I ran up the stairs, stopping long enough in a bathroom to comb my hair, put on lipstick, check to make sure that my head was on straight.
I was going to meet Dr. Henry Follett, Dean of the Academy, and I wanted to look no different from other mothers with children at the school. For some reason, I was already more upset than the occasion probably required.
Dr. Follett’s office was small but pleasant, with a picture window looking out over the campus, and school memorabilia everywhere—pennants, championship banners, photographs of Follett with students or local officials.
He was a likable man in his fifties, compact and natty, and I guessed he had a sense of humor, though his expression was serious and his smile was professional. Still, his eyes were kind. And he had a nice handshake.
I didn’t know why he had summoned me. I was busy at home, distracted with Will, but I had come to the school right away. My stomach, my back, my neck were all in knots.
“It’s about Jennie,” he said, as soon as I was seated in front of his large, cluttered desk.
“Yes. I figured as much. Is she in some kind of trouble?” I asked. I was trying not to show what I was feeling inside. I had to be strong here—for Jennie. I could do that.
“I’m not sure, Mrs. Bradford. Maybe you can tell me.”
I hadn’t noticed anything too unusual about Jennie. She was a teenager though. “She seems fine. Rebellious at times, argumentative, mimics Butthead and Beavis around the house to drive me crazy.”
“Acting the same at home though? Not sick lately? Not depressed or unhappy?”
I shook my head, and continued to feel both confused and worried. What was he getting at? I saw Jennie every day. Of course she had her own life and her own friends. I operated on the principle that the best thing a mother can do for her teenage daughter is to give her a reasonable amount of space to grow up in. That, plus love.
“Certainly not sick,” I said. “What’s going on, Dr. Follett? Please tell me why you called.”
He drummed his fingers on his desk. “This semester, Jennie has skipped seventeen days of school.”
Bombshell! I felt suddenly cold all over. “Skipped seventeen days?”
“Cut her classes. Didn’t show up at all.”
“My God! I had no idea. I almost don’t believe it, but of course I do. It isn’t like Jennie.”
“No, it isn’t like Jennie,” he agreed.
He handed me some papers from his desk. A report card and several illness notes. “Is that your signature?”
I looked at the notes and the report card. My hands were shaking. “My name, not my handwriting.” Another bombshell.
“Jennie’s?”
“I’m not sure. Could be.” My head was spinning too. This was the last thing I’d expected. Jennie had never been in trouble.
“We think she was trying to forge your signature,” Dr. Follett said, bringing me back from my reverie.
“Jennie wouldn’t do something like that.” I winced. Obviously, she had.
“Are you sure? If it’s not your signature, and it’s not Jennie’s forgery, then whose could it be?”
My brain whirled. “I really haven’t a clue.” Suddenly, I was angry at Jennie though. We had always trusted each other. I’d made time for Jennie no matter what else was going on.
“Mr. Shepherd?” the dean asked.
“No. He’s her stepfather. He’d simply sign. And this isn’t his signature either.”
“Look at the latest report card,” he said. “Have you seen this?”
I looked. B’s and C’s. I wanted to cry. Jennie