Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [67]
Carol took a right and a left, with only one car between them, and Ellen spotted a sign painted melon, which read BRIDGES, and beyond it lay a small building with a red-tiled roof. A tall hedge concealed the building, but she guessed it was a spa or salon, and two women drove in ahead of her. She stayed behind Carol as they snaked through the tall hedge.
Ellen was last in the line of cars that trailed up the lovely winding drive, and the sight on the other side caught her by surprise. A large group of children toting backpacks clustered around several women, obviously teachers, under the shaded entrance to the building. The children couldn’t have been more than five years old, so it had to be a preschool.
Will could have a brother? Or a sister? Instead of just a cat?
She watched the scene with a sinking sensation. The teachers brought each child to the waiting car, waving a cheery good-bye, and she kept an eye on Carol to see which child was hers. Ellen hadn’t thought about whether the Bravermans would have another child, or Timothy a sibling. The Braverman website hadn’t mentioned another child. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to risk his security, given what had happened.
Carol reached near the head of the line, but instead of going to the entrance, she peeled to the left and found a space in the parking lot. Ellen hung back, idling the car, and the next minute, Carol got out with her quilted purse and a black Adidas bag and hurried toward the entrance. The teachers waved to her as she jogged up to them, greeting her with smiles and chatter, but Ellen couldn’t hear what they were saying.
She had to get out of the line for pickups. She took a quick right and parked at the far end of the lot, reversing into the space so she could have a clear view of the entrance, to see when Carol left with her child.
She lowered the car windows before she switched off the ignition, having learned her lesson, and waited. The dashboard clock read 2:55. It was a late dismissal for preschool, but if this school was like Will’s, the parents could pick up at any time of the day.
But this preschool isn’t like Will’s. It’s a lot nicer.
By three fifteen, she was sweltering in the parked car. The thermometer on the dash read 100°. Her shirt clung to her neck, and her legs were so hot that she wanted to tear her pants off. By three thirty, she’d rolled them up to capri length and wrapped up her hair in a messy topknot, having found a stray barrette in her purse. She waited, watching the entrance, but it seemed as if all of the kids had been picked up. By three forty-five, her sunglasses were melting onto the bridge of her nose, and she decided to take a risk.
She grabbed her bag, got out of the car, and walked through the parking lot to the entrance under a tall breezeway. There were no more teachers or children out front, and she walked to the front door and tried it, but it was locked. A VISITORS MUST REPORT TO THE OFFICE sign was taped to the glass, and she peered through. She could see the barest outline of a large entrance hall with a glistening tile floor, and colorful bulletin boards hung on the left wall, across from a glass-walled office on the right. Carol was nowhere in sight.
Ellen pressed a buzzer beside the door, and almost immediately a mechanical voice asked, “Can I help you?”
“I’m new to the area and I’d like to see the school.”
“Come right in. The office is on your right.” A loud buzz sounded, and she yanked on the door and let herself inside. A slim, attractive woman with dark, curly hair emerged from the office and strode toward her with a smile, extending a hand.
“Welcome to Bridges, I’m Janice Davis, the assistant director.” She looked pretty in a pink cotton top, white pants, and light blue flats.
Ellen shook her hand. “I’m Karen