Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GRIFFIN
A ll eyes are on us as we pull up to Mystic River Elementary. Knox and I are used to people staring. We’ve grown immune to the judgment. But Noah fidgets under the pressure of all the watching people.
Coming to a stop side by side, Knox and I kill the engines. Knox helps Noah remove his helmet and guides him off the bike. Knox pulls out a luggage net, securing Noah’s helmet to the back of the saddle.
“Thank you for bringing me to school,” Noah articulates while looking at his feet. When we rise from the saddles of our motorcycles, Noah’s head rears back slightly. “Are you coming to school too?”
Knox and I bend down on one knee in front of Noah. I straighten his backpack on his shoulders as I ask, “Noah, do you know what it means to be brave?”
Noah raises his chin. “It means you don’t have nightmares because you’re not afraid of anything.”
A sad smile curves Knox’s mouth. “Kind of. You don’t have to be fearless to be brave. Being brave means you stand up to the things that scare you, even when you feel afraid.”
Noah rocks back and forth on his feet. “I’m not brave.”
“Yes, you are,” Knox refutes.
“No, I’m not,” Noah opposes in a low voice, his eyes cast downward.
“Hey.” I wait for Noah to look at us again. “You are. I promise you are. And I need you to be brave right now.”
Noah’s chest expands on an inhale, and he nods as he releases the air from his lungs.
I raise my brows. “I know there’s a kid here who hasn’t been nice. Could you look around and let me know if you see him?”
His eyes scan the people milling about. Instead of using his voice, Noah points to a kid who is talking to his dad. Knox and I recognize the father right away.
“Thanks, Bud. That was very brave,” Knox praises. We stand back up together, and Knox directs Noah. “Let’s go inside.”
“My mom usually just drops me off here and leaves.”
Knox’s voice deepens maliciously. “We need to have a little chat with your teacher.”
“Mrs. Burke?” Noah blinks repeatedly like he can’t believe anyone would want to talk to that grumpy woman, and I don’t blame him.
Shrugging, he doesn’t ask any more questions and leads us to the doors. We check in with the receptionist, and Noah guides us to his classroom.
I feel like a giant monster amongst all these mini humans. Some scurry away from Knox and me like they’re afraid we’re going to stomp all over them, and some stop and openly gape at us. And honestly, I’m scared I’m going to accidentally step on one of them.
“It’s that one.” Noah points to a door at the end of the hall decorated with cutout paper traffic signs that say things like “learning zone” and “do your best.”
As we approach the room, Noah grabs mine and Knox’s hands. Knox and I make eye contact over Noah’s head. His expression matches my own.
I grip Noah’s hand, infusing the connection with all the care my heart can muster. The more I give, the more my chest tightens.
Noah’s tenderness is going to break me.
He releases our hands, ducking into the classroom and starting his morning routine. The bell rings as the last of the kids remaining in the hallway scurry into their respective classrooms.
“Excuse me. Can I help you?” A woman in Noah’s classroom glowers at us. Her dress makes her look like a Pepto-Bismol bottle. Her hair is only a few inches long yet somehow curled. A pair of delicate reading glasses rests on the tip of her nose. The nametag pinned on her chest tells us her name.
I give her a vicious smile. “Let’s have a chat, Mrs. Burke.”
“Pull out your reading books. Twenty-minute reading starts now,” she instructs the class. Stepping into the hallway with us, she shuts the door and confronts us head on. “Do I know you?” The wrinkles around her beady eyes become more prominent as she glares.
“No, ma’am,” I reply.
Mrs. Burke rests her hands on her hips. “You both need to leave.”
“You’re going to want to hear what we have to say, Dorthea.” Knox’s voice is cold.
Her shoulders tighten. “How do you know my name?”
My sneer darkens my face. “We know a lot of things. Like what dear Charles does every Sunday night.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My husband goes to church on Sunday nights.” She scoffs to cover her denial.
I lean an inch closer, my height swamping hers. “He’s in the hole ten large, Dorthea. How long do you think it’ll take to pay up if thirty percent interest is added onto his total?”
It finally clicks in Dorthea’s mind who we are. “Knox? Griffin?” Her focus jumps all over, trying to merge the image she has of us from when we were students in her classroom. Her lip curls. “You two were always more trouble than you’re worth.”
An icy calm glides over my chest. “Should I up it to forty percent?”
Her nostrils flare. “What do you want?”
Knox folds his arms. “For you to do your damn job.”
“I do.” She makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat.
I tower over her more. “No, you’re not.” She finally shrinks back from us. “Make the bullying stop.”
“There’s none of that in my classroom.”
Knox’s jaw tightens. “Don’t lie, Dorthea. We’d hate to have to bring this discussion to Charles and take what we’re owed in blood.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasps.
“But we would.” I tilt my head to the side. “So, what’s it going to be? Stop the bullying, or does Charles need to make an appointment with the ER?”
Her skin turns ashen. “I’ll make it stop.”
“Wise choice,” Knox responds.
“We’ll be in touch.” I open the door for her like a gentleman, and she darts away from us.
When the door shuts again, we make our way back to our bikes. Before putting on his helmet, Knox turns to me. “An appointment with the ER?”
“Super badass, right? I gave myself chills with that one.”
Knox and I laugh together and take off out of the parking lot.
We’ve always been close. We’ve had to rely on each other for strength to continue. But now, we share more laughs than ever before.
Knox holds the level steady. “Don’t you think she’ll notice that her table doesn’t wobble anymore?”
“Who knows?” I mark a cut line on one of the longer table legs.
“Well, won’t she figure all this out?” Knox juts his head forward with his brows lifted, conveying his annoyance.
Setting the pencil down, I sigh, aggravated. “Let me ask you this. If Raven found out that we copied her key, break into her house regularly, and fix her stuff, what would you do?”
Knox blows out a breath, thinking his answer through. “Beg?”
Snorting, I shake my head and get back to the task at hand. When we’re done evening out the legs, we place everything back on the table the way we found it.
Standing back to admire our work, Knox peers at the arrangement. “Was the stack of napkins right there? Or was it over here?” He moves the pile over a few inches.
“No. It was here.” I move the stack to the other side of the table.
Knox picks up the napkins again and a few other items. “No. The file was right there.”
Scratching my head, I scrutinize the positioning. “Do you think she’ll even notice?”
Knox’s wish comes out more like a question. “Hopefully not?” He shrugs, tilting the folder in his hands, scattering its contents on the floor.
I gesture to the jumble all over the floor. “Now that she’ll notice.”
Knox gets down on his knees and starts gathering the array of papers and pictures. “Aw, shit. Help me pick this up.”
“Fine,” I groan.
The pictures I’m loading up catch my eye, and I peer closer.
Knox gives me a scolding look. “Hey! Don’t dally. We gotta finish this up so we can head over to the bar.”
I flip the image around, showing Knox. “Why does Raven have a surveillance photo of Lewis Whitlock?”
Knox’s eyebrows drop over his eyes, and he studies the picture closely. Then he digs through his own pile. “They’re all of Lewis. What is Raven doing following Lewis around?”
Examining the photos, I catalog each one in my mind. Lewis at the grocery store, Lewis shaking hands with Frank LeBlanc, Lewis walking into the psychiatric hospital.
My head drops to a concerned angle. “I don’t know, but I sure as hell am going to find out.”