Save Me - Lisa Scottoline [101]
“I have a few more appointments, lawyers and such.” Rose stepped outside. She hated to lie to them, but they’d worry if they knew the truth. Living without lying was going to be harder than she’d thought, like counting carbs.
“Okay, good luck.” Gabriella stepped on the front step. “Stay well.”
“I will, thanks again.” Rose kissed John’s warm head one last time, but as she went down the steps, he started to cry, a choked little sob. She turned around at the heartbreaking sound, guilt-stricken when she saw his adorable face pink and contorted. “Aww, see you soon, Johnnie.”
“Go on, he’ll be fine, I promise.” Gabriella waved her on, sympathetic, and Rose turned away with a sigh, vowing to make this trip count.
She hurried to the car, pulling out her phone on the fly, hit the speed-dial for Leo, and listened to the phone ring, then it went to voicemail and she left a message. She put her phone back, got in the car, and started the engine. She took one last look back, and Gabriella was comforting John on the top step.
Rose stifled another sigh, then hit the gas. She felt torn about leaving them again, but she had to figure out what was going on, for herself. She couldn’t be right for them if she wasn’t right for herself, and she hadn’t been right for herself for a long time.
And that time was over, for good.
Chapter Fifty-five
Rose parked on a street south of the school, so the press wouldn’t see her car, then got out and chirped it locked. She had on a white man-tailored shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and with sunglasses and her hair under a Phillies cap, no one would recognize her. She walked to the school and made a beeline for the cafeteria, noticing that the plywood wall was being painted by the students. The mural showed a smiling sun overlooking a grassy lawn covered with oversized sunflowers, undersized trees, and polka-dotted butterflies, a kiddie version of paradise that hid an adult version of hell.
Rose walked to the break in the plywood fence, where there was a makeshift entrance that had a clear plastic sheet as a door, then she stopped. It was quiet, for a construction site. No workmen were going in and out, like there had been before. She checked the street, and only one dusty pickup sat parked at the curb, where there had previously been a lineup.
She slid off her sunglasses, turned back to the entrance, and stepped around the plastic sheet. It was dark inside, and the cafeteria was a man-made cave with an eerie azure cast, from the tarp on the roof. It still smelled, though much of the debris had been cleared. Rose felt grit under her sneakers, and realized that she was at the end of the cafeteria, close to the handicapped bathroom. She didn’t see anyone around, so she walked ahead, passing a construction lamp with high-intensity bulbs on a metal stalk. Toward the far side of the room, she spotted the broad back of a construction worker, dressed in a white hard hat, dirty white T-shirt, and painter’s paints.
“Excuse me,” she called out, and the workman turned. He was pushing a wheelbarrow, and his soft belly hung between its handles. Safety goggles dug into his fleshy cheeks, and he was plugged into an iPod.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he said, with a slight twang. “Do I know you?” He popped out an earbud and squinted through his goggles, then set down the wheelbarrow and walked toward her. “Wait. Yes, I do. You’re that chick Kurt liked, aren’t you? That mom on TV.”
“Uh, yes,” Rose said, rethinking her disguise. “I wanted to talk to someone about Kurt.”
“Fine.” The workman slipped off a worn cotton glove and reached out his hand. “I’m Warren Minuti. I’m with Bethany Run, too. Nice to meet you.”
“Rose McKenna.” She extended a hand, which was swallowed up by Warren’s huge, rough palm.
“My wife and her friends are all talking about you. She’s glued to that TV.” Warren unstuck his goggles and slipped them onto his hardhat. “I tell her, you must be a good person because Kurt liked you.”
“Thanks. I felt terrible to hear the news that he had been killed. I’m so sorry. He was a sweet guy.”
“He was.