I grill you about who you’re dating, Renee?”
“No, but if you did, I’d tell you. I even tell my mom.”
Lindsey laughed at the confession, provoking an answering giggle from the girl. “There isn’t much to tell with this one. We went out to eat. And he didn’t ask me out again.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Renee.”
“But he tried, didn’t he. That’s a good sign.”
“Oh, please. Surely you’ve got something besides this to talk about.”
“Nope. I can’t think of a thing.”
“Well, then bless your heart. I hope you find a more interesting subject than my love life during next period.”
“In Ms. Miller’s class? I don’t think so.” Renee laughed again.
Agnes Miller had taught calculus for the last thirty years. Having been her student, Lindsey knew Renee was right.
“Well, go try,” she ordered, moving away from the lectern to retrieve the eleventh grade lit book from the stack on her desk. Her juniors were beginning to filter into the room, and she didn’t want the discussion to carry over.
“Okay, I’m going,” Renee said, “but I’m warning you, I’m not done with this. I’ve just got a couple of problems to finish before the bell rings.”
Which she intended to copy from someone else. Right now, if it got rid of her, that was okay with Lindsey.
One of the students coming in approached her desk, giving her the opportunity to turn her attention from Renee. Lindsey was conscious when the cheerleader finally left.
Two classes down and two to go. If they were all like the last one, this was going to be a very long day.
It had taken him until lunchtime to be able to think through the implications. Anger and anxiety had delayed his reaching any kind of rational conclusion, but when he had finally fought through the distraction they represented, he knew the one he’d arrived at was correct.
Ms. Sloan was being used. Any single woman her age was vulnerable to flattery and masculine attention. And he had no doubt the detective was laying it on heavy in hopes she’d help him finger students she believed would be capable of setting the fires.
Which was a pretty shrewd move on Nolan’s part, the boy acknowledged. There were few people here who would know the kids smart enough to pull those off better than the gifted coordinator did. Maybe Ms. Anderson, but she didn’t seem the type to be manipulated.
And that was what Nolan was doing. Manipulating Ms. Sloan to his advantage.
His mouth tightened as he pushed his books into his locker and fished out the notebook he’d need for his next class. Maybe it was time to let both of them know that nobody was going to roll over and play dead because some outsider thought he’d found a slick way to get inside information. His lips relaxed into a slight smile at the unintended irony of the phrase he’d just used.
He wasn’t stupid enough to take Nolan on straight up. He wouldn’t catch someone with the cop’s level of training and experience off guard. Ms. Sloan, on the other hand…
If he was wrong—if the detective wasn’t playing her for a sucker—then maybe Nolan would back off out of concern for her safety. And if he was right about what was going on, then he had no doubt she’d get the message. After all, she was too intelligent not to.
“So how was it?”
Shannon settled onto the couch opposite the one Lindsey was sitting on. The counselor slipped her shoes off and put her feet up on the coffee table between them.
“Typical Monday. Half of them asleep. Half revved up just to be here.” That enthusiasm was not because of the opportunity to learn, but because they were again with their peers, feeding off the energy produced by all those hormones.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lindsey. I didn’t mean today.” Shannon’s voice was rich with disgust.
She meant Friday night. She meant Jace Nolan. There was a good ten-years difference in Shannon’s and Renee’s ages, but her friend’s curiosity was no less intense than her student’s.
“We went to The Cove. We talked over dinner. Then he took me home.”
“That’s it?” Shannon looked at her over the rim of her cup, waiting for an answer before she took a sip.
“What did you expect?”
“I dunno. Something. Something besides that.”
“Well, that’s what happened.”
“You like him?”
“I don’t know him. He seemed pleasant enough. He can carry on a conversation.” Lindsey shrugged.
“You seem just a little too blasé about this whole thing. I take that as a good sign.”
“Of what?”
“Of interest. If you weren’t interested, you’d be telling me what was wrong with him. You aren’t, so I figure there must be a degree of interest there.”
Lindsey shook her head, eyes focused on her cup. “There’s nothing to tell. Nothing happened. That’s it.”
“End of story.”
“Maybe.”
“He ask you out again?”
Déjà vu all over again. Shannon seemed to be channeling cheerleaders.
“Nope.”
“Shit.”
Lindsey laughed. “Hey, I managed to survive life pre-Jace Nolan. I’ll survive post-Jace Nolan, too.”
“What kind of name is that? Jace.”
“He was J.C. as a kid. Some kind of family thing. It got shortened to Jace.” Lindsey shrugged again.
“He tell you all that?”
“I asked about his name.”
“Polite conversation 101.”
“Something like that.”
“Anything else interesting?”
“We talked about the fires.”
“He tell you who it is they suspect?”
“I told you. My kids. I swear, Shannon, I’ve thought about everybody in my program since he told me that, and I just don’t see it. I can’t see any of them being involved in setting fire to those churches. Most of them grew up attending ones very much like those. Burning any church would be an act of blasphemy to them. And they’re too smart, for another thing. They have too much at stake to risk it all on something so mindlessly stupid, for another.
“My juniors and seniors have worked hard to raise their test scores. The seniors are already filling out college applications and applying for scholarships. They’ve taken every AP class we offer. Why would they take a chance on blowing all that to burn a couple of tiny black churches? These kids didn’t grow up during the Jim Crow years.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t know about them. Or that they couldn’t be racist.”
It didn’t, of course. There was still the occasional undercurrent of black/white tension in the school, despite forty years of integration.
“Do you think that’s why those churches were burned?” Lindsey asked. “Race? You think they were hate crimes?”
Although most of the staff would have jumped to deny the possibility, Shannon seemed to be thinking about the question.
Finally