Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [122]
She realized that a cell phone was like gold to these kids; most of them would jump on the chance to swipe it, either for personal use or for trade. The reasons didn’t necessarily have to be nefarious.
And yet…
Once again she turned off the lights, but this time, before she actually stepped into the hallway, she detoured to the window and looked across the campus, where snow glittering under the security lamps offered a peaceful vista.
Warm lamplight glowing from the chapel added to the appearance of serenity. All an illusion, she told herself.
If she didn’t believe it, all she had to do was ask Nona Vickers’s father.
She spied Missy and Zach as they walked rapidly from the education building toward the chapel. Zach’s arm was slung over Missy’s shoulders, as if he were shepherding the tall girl.
Just as they reached the arched doors, Missy dared to look over her shoulder. Her face turned upward, her gaze centered on the very spot where Jules stood in the darkness.
She froze, wondering if the girl could see her.
Don’t make more of it than it is, the voice of reason nagged at her, but she felt a whisper of fear just the same.
With a word from Zach, Missy slipped through the door of the chapel, and Jules was left with the disturbing notion that despite all the accolades about Blue Rock Academy, Shaylee might be right. It could very well be the school of the damned.
If so, Jules was going to find out.
Tonight.
Trent caught Jules as she was leaving the education hall. Head bent against the wind, apparently lost in thought, she was walking quickly in the direction of Stanton House. “Hey, Ms. Farentino,” he called, just in case anyone saw him flagging her down. “Wait up!”
“What?” She looked up quickly, startled as she slowed in the light of a tall lamppost. Snow swirled around her, catching on the wisps of hair that had come free of the hood of her long coat.
It could have been a trick of light, but for a fraction of a heartbeat, the corners of her mouth lifted a bit, as if the sight of him was a welcome distraction. “I want to talk to you about one of our students,” he said, and resisted grabbing the crook of her elbow.
“Which one?” she asked as he reached her.
“Andrew Prescott,” he said, his voice lowered as they walked along the path. “I just got the word a couple of hours ago—he didn’t make it. Lynch will be making an announcement a little later.”
Jules paled under the lamplight, her gray eyes darkening with sadness. “Another one,” she whispered. “Dear God, I was hoping he’d recover.”
“We all were.”
She let out a long breath as he brought her up to date on what Meeker had told him about the deaths. She listened, shivering slightly, worry straining her features. He added, “In some ways, I don’t know how these kids are bearing up under the strain. A killer on the loose, and we’re all pent up here in the storm. Unless the son of a bitch got out that first night, after he attacked Nona and Drew and before the blizzard hit, he’s trapped here.”
“With us. I know.”
He witnessed her shudder and wanted like hell to wrap a comforting arm around her, to hold her close, to press his lips into her frozen hair and whisper that everything would be all right. But he didn’t. First, he couldn’t give anyone else a glimpse that he knew her more than as a new colleague. Secondly, he’d sworn long ago that he wouldn’t try to keep close contact with any woman who’d made it clear she wasn’t interested.
Jules qualified. Big-time.
Right after Rip Delaney’s murder, Jules had been adamant that she didn’t want anything to do with him.
Thirdly, he now knew that despite all of his rules and vows to himself, he couldn’t trust himself near Jules, because, like it or not, he’d never gotten over her. Being near her, staring into her concerned eyes, watching the thoughtful pout of her lips, he realized with heart-jolting clarity that he still wanted her.
What the hell was