CHAPTER THREE
Lucia Santos’s gaze continually returned to the empty desk in the middle of her otherwise full third-grade classroom. Sitting on top were two graded papers from yesterday’s assignments, and Lizzie’s partially completed Veterans Day project sat on the worktable at the back of the room.
Overnight, Lizzie—Elizabeth Flannery, a cute little freckle-faced, redheaded student from her class—had been added to the list of girls taken recently. That brought the total to four, with Lizzie being the youngest.
Should Lucia give the project to the little girl’s parents, or would it be too painful for them to receive it?
What was the protocol with all of her other belongings?
Like the pink princess hoodie she kept in her cubby for chilly days, or the extra pair of underpants for those rare occasions when she didn’t make it to the bathroom on time.
Thoughts like that felt defeatist, as if she’d already given up on Lizzie being found. Lucia refused to do that, so she shoved those questions aside to be dealt with later, if necessary.
She was still having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that one of her students had become a victim. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the little girl’s family was going through.
Having been there when Violetta was almost taken, and as the mother of an eight-year-old girl herself, Lucia couldn’t help but fret about who might be next. Because she sensed this was just the beginning of this terrible nightmare.
How could something so vile and heinous be happening in such a wonderful place as San Salsillo?
Most everyone knew each other and watched out for each other.
This was the kind of place where no one locked their doors, where kids could still ride their bikes around town or play outside and explore without having to worry.
At least, it used to be.
The only thing that gave her any level of comfort was that her daughter, Isabella, was in the other third-grade classroom right across the hall from hers.
The urge to dash over there every five minutes to peek through the window in the door was powerful.
But she had confidence in Connie Schubert, her daughter’s teacher, and in the school’s resource officer, Deputy Torres.
Connie had been a teacher for thirty-four years, and Deputy Torres was one of the best deputies in the county. Both of them would put themselves between danger and any one of the students in the school.
“Ms. Santos.” A child’s voice cut through her thoughts.
She blinked and noticed Benton had his hand raised. From the way he was using his other hand to hold his arm up, he must’ve called out her name a few times.
“Yes, Benton?”
He looked over at the empty desk and asked the question she’d been hoping to avoid. “Where is Lizzie?”
“Um, she’s out today.” They hadn’t given the teachers any guidance yet on what they could or couldn’t say about her disappearance. So she opted to dodge the question. “I’d like everyone to take out their math workbooks and turn to page thirty-two.”
There was a lot of shuffling and things dropped to the floor as they rummaged through their desks. No matter how often she helped them get organized, it never seemed to last very long.
“I’d like you to complete page thirty-two and thirty-three,” she said. “When you’re done, we’re going to have a pop spelling quiz to see how well you guys are doing learning this week’s words.”
A chorus of deeply put-upon groans and “ah, mans” made its way around the room.
“I know, I know. It’s a lot to ask.” She stifled a grin.
“You have thirty minutes to complete those two math pages. If you have any questions, please raise your hand.” She tapped the face of her smartwatch and went to the timer app.
“If you finish your workbook pages before time is up, I suggest you use that free time to look over the spelling words.” She pointed toward the end of the magnetic whiteboard where the words were printed.
Then she tapped her watch to start the timer. “Begin.”
She settled behind her desk, lifted a stack of papers from yesterday, and started grading them.
The only sounds in the room were the sporadic sniffle, a cough or two, and feet shuffling beneath desks.
Every once in a while, a student would raise their hand when they were stuck on a problem, and she would stroll over to help them.
She’d just finished writing tonight’s homework assignment on the whiteboard when her watch vibrated against her wrist. She flinched, then looked around to ensure none of the students noticed. Being jumpy in front of this curious group would only elicit questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.
“Time’s up.” Lucia stood. “Please put your pencils down and pass your workbooks to the front of the class. Go ahead and take out a clean piece of notebook paper.” She gathered up the workbooks and set them on her desk. “And if you need to sharpen your pencil, now is your chance.”
Multiple chairs scraped across the floor as kids pushed back from their desks and lined up to use the electric pencil sharpener she kept at the back of the room. No surprise—all but three students suddenly had pencils that needed sharpening. Anything to stall taking a quiz.
The whir of the sharpener was joined by the inevitable buzz of conversation that always occurred whenever they clustered together. But this morning, she welcomed their innocent, childlike banter.
Lucia waited until the last kid was done at the sharpener, then stood silent at the front of the room while they continued chitchatting.
She crossed her arms and cleared her throat to gain their attention.
“Okay, settle down everyone. If we can get through this quiz quickly, you might have some creative time. How does that sound?” Lucia looked around the room at all the nods and smiles.
“Good. Okay, I’m going to say the spelling word, then I will use it in a sentence.
You’ve only had these words for two days, so don’t worry if you forget how to spell any of them.
This is just a way to find out which ones you need to work on. ”
She grabbed a couple of magnets and a large piece of butcher paper and covered the list on the board.
Behind her, she heard a whispered “Darn it,” and she turned to face her students.
“You didn’t honestly think I would forget, did you?” She grinned, strolled back to her desk, and picked up the list of words. “Okay, your first word is know. Now I will use it in a sentence. He did not know how to ride a bike.”
They lowered their heads, and pencils scratched across paper as they printed the word.
She repeated this process with the other nine words on their list.
“I’m going to give you five minutes to double-check your spelling.
After that, I’ll collect the papers, and you’ll have fifteen minutes to work on your project, grab a coloring page, write in your daily journal, or to chat quietly.
Emphasis on the quietly part, please.” She set the timer on her smartwatch. “You may begin.”
She walked slowly up and down the rows, sneaking peeks at their progress until five minutes passed and her watch vibrated on her wrist.
“Time’s up.” Lucia tapped her watch and moved back to the front of the room. “Please put your pencils down and pass your papers to the front. Row leaders, go ahead and put them in my inbox.”
Four kids walked over and carefully did as instructed, then returned to their seats.
Lucia taught at Liberty Academy, an expensive private school, where her class size of only sixteen students was very manageable and made it easier to get to know each one of them.
“Thank you.” She gave the class a long look. They looked at her with wide eyes, and it was almost like they were holding their breath until she said, “Okay, you have fifteen minutes of creative time.”
They all hopped up like their chairs were electrified and shuffled to the back of the room to either pick a coloring page or to grab their projects, then they selected the necessary supplies—crayons, markers, construction paper, glue—and returned to their seats.
Lucia sat at her desk and gathered what she would need during lunch. She checked her lesson plan to ensure she was on track and was happy to see that her kids were actually ahead of schedule. One of the many benefits of a private school education.
Fortunately, since Lucia was a teacher at Liberty Academy, her daughter was able to attend at a deeply discounted rate. Otherwise, there was no way she’d be able to afford having Isabella there.
Her ex, Curtis, paid what he could, but his job as a low-level accountant at a large nonprofit didn’t pay much, and he’d been struggling lately. Some months he was barely able to make the required monthly child-support payments, let alone chip in for their daughter’s tuition.
He would try to cover his embarrassment at his financial shortcomings by whining about how public school had been good enough for them. Why wasn’t it good enough for their daughter?
Her response was the same every time he brought it up—the public schools in San Salsillo were run-down and overcrowded, with an average class size of thirty-five students.
Lucia knew this because she used to work at the public elementary school. She used to spend seventy-five percent of her time on five percent of the students with behavioral and discipline problems. As a result, the other students who wanted to work and do well were being shortchanged.
While out on maternity leave, she interviewed at Liberty Academy, was offered the position, and she never looked back.
Three years later, she filed for divorce.
She’d insisted Curtis not have to pay any alimony. Even though she would’ve been entitled to it. Lucia had wanted their daughter to be the only connection between them. She’d even reverted back to her maiden name, Santos.
The end of their marriage had been inevitable, and she blamed herself. She never really loved Curtis, not the way a woman should love her husband.
She’d been up front with him about her lingering feelings for another man. But Curtis had seemed sweet and reliable, and had painted such a bright picture of their future together. He’d talked about making a home and having children. He seemed so confident they’d be happy.
Maybe his confidence was contagious, or maybe she’d just fooled herself into believing her friendly affection for him would grow into something more.
In the years since, she’d had to be brutally honest with herself about the real reasons she ever agreed to marry him.
She’d been desperate to have children and had begun to worry that would never happen.
She also knew, deep down, he could never come close to hurting her the way Eddie had, because she would never love him the way she’d loved Eddie.
Then after Isabella was born, and he said he didn’t want any more children, she knew their marriage was on life support.
That’s when he began his affair with a woman he worked with.
Lucia’s initial reaction upon discovering his infidelity had been very telling.
She wasn’t disappointed or hurt or mad. She wasn’t even all that surprised.
She understood very well what drove him into the arms of another woman.
After all, she couldn’t have been the only one who felt the weighty, emotional emptiness of being stuck in a loveless marriage.
Lately, Curtis had begun spending most of his time off with his new girlfriend.
To the point he’d begun missing his visitation times with Isabella.
It had been hard watching her little girl sit by the front door with her sweater on, her little overnight bag next to her, all excited about her daddy coming to get her, only to be disappointed time and time again.
She would cry and ask where her daddy was, and the hurt in her big brown eyes was so heartbreaking that Lucia would make up excuses for him.
About two months ago, Isabella finally stopped asking about him.
Lucia’s watch vibrated, and she stood.
“Okay, let’s start putting away your materials and get ready for lunch.” They went right to work cleaning up and putting the supplies back in their designated spots. “Great job, everyone.” She was so proud of all of them.
Once again, her gaze was drawn back to Lizzie’s empty desk just as the bell rang.
“Go ahead and line up behind Henry.” Henry was this week’s line leader.
Lucia grabbed her red pen, the stack of papers, and her insulated lunch bag from the bottom drawer of her desk and joined them by the door.
Ms. Masters, the music teacher, and the principal, Ralph Thompson, had lunch duty this week, so Lucia planned to spend her thirty-minute lunch break grading papers in the teachers’ lounge while she ate her usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich and strawberry yogurt.
“Remember, single file all the way to the cafeteria.” She nodded at Henry.
He proudly held the line leader sign high overhead and started out of the classroom.
They followed him, and Lucia was at the back of the line where she could keep an eye on all of them. The whole group walked down one side of the corridor, and some waved at their friends when they walked by in the other direction. Her group got to the cafeteria door and went inside.
All of her kids brought their lunch, so she waited until they were all settled and sitting with their friends.
“Hi, Mom.” Isabella waved at her as her class entered the room.
“Hey, kiddo.” Lucia walked over and gave her a quick side hug.
This was the start of her daughter’s fourth year at Liberty Academy, including kindergarten.
In the past, she’d always been shy and quiet the first few months of each new school year and had wanted Lucia to sit with her at lunch.
This year, she seemed to have really come out of her shell and insisted she was fine and didn’t need her mom to sit with her anymore.
Her daughter spreading her wings and gaining independence was a natural part of growing up. Lucia understood this progression, but now, with girls going missing, she wanted to lock Isabella away in a tower or something.
Whatever it would take to keep her child safe, Lucia would do it.