Chapter Seven
Mira stood with Shayla and half a dozen other teachers on the sidewalk across the street from the school.
Administrators had given up trying to get the students to wait outside in orderly groups, especially after word of the bomb threat spread and their parents began arriving.
They had dismissed classes for the day an hour ago.
Most of the students had dispersed, leaving the staff to linger in the parking lot while a team called in from a neighboring county searched the building with dogs and electronics designed to detect explosives.
Shayla hugged her arms across her chest. “How much longer is this going to take?” she asked. “I wish I had thought to grab my purse and my keys.”
“Someone said they’re searching all the classrooms, offices and lockers,” Mira said. “I guess that takes a while.”
“If this turns out to be a prank, I hope they find who’s responsible and make him do detention for a year,” Shayla said.
“It must be a prank,” Mira said. “Why would anyone want to blow up the school?”
“Why does anyone do anything awful?” Shayla asked. “Why did someone try to kidnap Bryce Atkinson?”
“Have you heard anything more about that?” Mira asked. “Have they found the kidnapper?”
“I have no idea,” Shayla said.
“I thought maybe Mitch’s dad had heard something on his police scanner.”
“If he has, I haven’t heard.”
Something in her voice made Mira look at her more closely. “Is something wrong? You sound upset.”
Shayla shook her head, eyes downcast. “It’s nothing.”
Mira nudged her. “You sure you don’t want to talk?”
“It’s so silly.” She uncrossed her arms and shook her hands, as if trying to dry them. “I feel like I’m thirteen again.”
Mira laughed. “That sounds like every relationship I’ve ever been in.”
“I tried to work up the courage to ask Mitch out yesterday, but I couldn’t do it,” Shayla said. “And as I was stumbling over my words, he looked at me so oddly. He probably thinks I’m losing my mind.”
“He was probably just distracted,” Mira said. “He was worried about his father.”
Shayla nodded, though she didn’t look convinced.
“Mira!”
They turned to see Carter making his way through the crowd. He stopped in front of them, out of breath.
“What are you doing here?” Mira looked around. “Did someone call search and rescue?”
“It’s just me,” he said. “I heard there was a bomb threat at the school. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The flutter in her chest at these words made her a little lightheaded.
Her cheeks heated and she had to shift her gaze away from his face, so full of concern.
For her. Over Carter’s shoulder, Shayla stared at her, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.
“Um, Shayla Green, this is Carter Ames.” She managed the introduction with a calmness she didn’t really feel.
“Nice to meet you, Carter,” Shayla said. “That’s so sweet of you to worry about Mira’s safety.”
He looked around at the crowd of teachers and administrators. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Was there really a bomb?”
“There are people and dogs inside, searching,” Mira said. “We haven’t heard that they found anything yet.”
“We’re all waiting around until they allow us back inside to retrieve our belongings,” Shayla said. She shifted from foot to foot. “Standing on this concrete is definitely getting old.”
“Attention!” A muted rumble of a hundred shuffled feet rippled through the crowd as everyone turned toward the speaker at the front of the school. “The building has been cleared,” a deep male voice intoned. “You may return to collect your belongings.”
“Finally!”
“About time.”
“Did they find anything?”
The crowd—and their crisscrossing conversations—surged toward the building. Mira moved in that direction, too, Carter at her side. They were at the bottom of the steps when the principal, Peter Martin, intercepted her. “Mira, can you come with me, please?” he asked.
As he spoke, Sheriff Walker and a man in a dark suit moved closer. “What is it?” Mira asked. “Is something wrong?”
“We need to ask you some questions,” the dark-suited man said.
She felt faint again, but not in the heady, happy way she had felt with Carter. Then his hand was on her arm, warm and steadying. “I’ll come with you,” she said.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“I’m Carter Ames. Mira’s friend. Who are you?”
“Detective Jameson Porter, Colorado Bureau of Investigation. We need to speak to Ms. Veronica alone.”
“Am I under arrest?” she asked, panic rising.
Porter—a thin-faced man with piercing brown eyes—studied her a long moment before answering. “Not at this time.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere alone with you,” she said.
“Carter can come with her,” the sheriff said.
Porter looked as if he wanted to argue, but pressed his lips together, turned and headed toward the school.
Mira and Carter followed, the sheriff and Principal Martin behind them. Carter still held her arm, his presence steadying her.
They passed a crowd of fellow teachers exiting the building and entered the principal’s office.
Principal Martin closed the door, shutting out the murmur of conversation in the halls.
“Sit down, Mira.” He indicated the two chairs in front of his desk.
Mira sat in one, and Carter sat beside her.
He had released his hold on her, but sat close enough that their legs were almost touching.
Detective Porter sat behind the desk. The sheriff stood against the wall behind him. Principal Martin leaned on a credenza to Mira’s left. Porter reached beneath the desk and took out a paper bag. From the bag, he pulled a pair of boy’s jeans. “Do you recognize these?” he asked.
Mira stared at the jeans. They were definitely a child’s, with scuffed knees and one frayed hem. “No. Do they belong to one of the students?”
“They were found in the bottom desk drawer in your classroom,” Porter said. “Do you still say you don’t recognize them?”
“No. How did they get into my desk? Did a student put them there?” But why would someone do that?
“They belong to Bryce Atkinson,” Porter said. “He was wearing them yesterday when someone grabbed him off the street, shoved him into a car, restrained him, and removed the jeans and his shoes. Now would you like to tell us how they came to be in your possession.”
“If they were in her drawer, they weren’t in her possession,” Carter said. “Anyone could have put those there. The classroom wasn’t locked, was it?”
“No,” Mira said, before Porter could speak. “My class isn’t locked. And I don’t know how those pants ended up in that drawer. I don’t even know Bryce. He’s not in any of my classes. As far as I know, he doesn’t even go to this school.”
“I’m the person who found Bryce,” Carter said. “After he escaped from his kidnappers, I was part of the search and rescue volunteers looking for him up above Galloway Basin. He told me he was pretty sure the person who grabbed him was a man.”
“He didn’t get a good look at his kidnapper,” Porter said. “They wore a mask and gloves.” He looked at Mira. “You’re what, about five-seven?”
“Five-eight,” she said.
“To a panicked boy, you could look taller.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with Bryce’s kidnapping,” she said.
“Where were you yesterday afternoon between three and four thirty?” Sheriff Walker asked.
“I was here at the school,” she said. “In my classroom.”
“Classes are over at three o’clock,” Principal Martin said.
“I was working on lesson plans,” she said.
“Did anyone else see you there at that time?” Porter asked.
“Yes. A student—Camila Sepulveda—came to talk to me about an extra-credit project she’s working on. Then Shayla Green came and we talked for a few minutes. Then Coach Anders came and told us about Bryce being kidnapped.”
Porter showed little change of expression. “Have you seen anyone near your classroom who shouldn’t be there?” he asked.
“No.”
“Does this have anything to do with the bomb threat?” Carter asked.
Porter said nothing.
“Was there a bomb?” Mira asked. “Did you find anything besides these jeans?”
“There was no bomb,” the sheriff said.
“Maybe someone called in the threat so that you would have to search the school and find these pants,” Carter said. “Someone who wanted to implicate Mira.”
“Why would someone want to implicate Mira?” Porter asked.
Carter turned to her. “I think you should tell them about the letters,” he said.
She wanted to protest. The letters were an annoyance. They weren’t serious. But this—Bryce’s jeans in her desk—was serious. What if she had been alone in her classroom during that time? Would she be on her way to jail now?
“What letters?” Porter asked.
“Someone has been sending anonymous notes to people around town,” she said. “I’ve received two of them.”
Porter looked back at Travis. “What kind of notes?”
“They accuse people of petty crimes,” Travis said. “Or nonexistent crimes. Everything from unleashed dogs to failing to bring in their trash cans from the curb.” He looked at Mira. “You said you received two notes?”
“Yes. One was left on the front seat of my car here at school. The second was tacked to the front door of my apartment a couple of days later.”
“What do these notes say?” Porter asked.
She sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time,” Porter said.
Mira told the lawmen and the principal the same story she had related to Carter, about David Ketchum’s disappearance and death, and the anonymous letter writer’s implication that she was somehow involved in the crime.
“I had nothing to do with David or his death,” she said.
“Like everyone else, I thought he had run away or gotten lost. I was shocked when his body was found. I was never a suspect. I was never even questioned by law enforcement.”
“If they had questioned you, what would you have told them?” Porter asked.
“He was one student in my twice-weekly elementary school classes,” she said. “A friendly, bright boy with a nice smile. I didn’t know much about him or his family. What happened to him was horrible but I have no idea who was responsible.”
“Why would someone write notes to you about it?” Porter asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve lain awake nights trying to figure that out.”
“Whoever is writing these notes obviously likes to harass people,” Carter said. “I thought maybe they found out Mira was from Santa Fe, remembered the crime and decided to connect her with it. Not because she did anything wrong, but because they knew it would be unsettling and, well, mean.”
“But now someone is trying to connect me with another child’s kidnapping,” she said.
“Who is upset with you?” Porter asked. “A parent whose child you flunked, a former student you gave a bad grade, or a neighbor you argued with over a parking spot?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I’ve only been in Eagle Mountain less than a month.”
“Why did you leave Santa Fe?” Porter asked.
“I’d lived there all my life. I wanted a change. And this was a good opportunity. Eagle Mountain is beautiful.”
Carter sensed her nervousness, so that he felt jumpy himself. He wanted to protest they should stop hassling her, now. Couldn’t they see she hadn’t done anything wrong?
“Is there anyone in Eagle Mountain who you knew in Santa Fe?” Travis asked.
“No one,” she said. “And everyone I’ve met here has been really nice.” She didn’t look at Carter, but he hoped she was thinking of him when she said this.
“Have you seen these notes?” Porter asked Carter.
“I have,” Carter said. “They look just like the other notes I’ve seen that other people in town have received. Printed on a half sheet of plain white paper. A short message, unsigned. They don’t accuse Mira of anything specific, just a connection with David—no last name, just David.”
“We’ll need to see the notes,” Porter said.
“You can come to my apartment and get them,” she said. “Or I can bring them to the sheriff tomorrow.”
“Bring them to the sheriff’s department as soon as you can,” Travis said.
“Can I go now?” Mira asked. She looked utterly drained.
“You can go,” Porter said. “We’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”
Carter stood and offered his hand to help her up. She didn’t take it, but when she was standing, she leaned toward him slightly. They exited the office together. She waited until they were out of the building before she spoke. “Thanks for coming in there with me,” she said.
“You’re not angry I told them about the letters?”
“No. I should have told them before, I guess. It’s just…”
“You hoped if you ignored the letter writer, the harassment would stop,” he said.
“Yes.” She gripped his arm. “Do you think the same person sent those letters and put those pants in my desk drawer?”
“If it was the same person, that means they kidnapped Bryce,” Carter said. “It’s the only way they would have those jeans.”
“Then does that mean they killed David Ketchum, too?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “Maybe they just heard about David’s case and wanted to commit a similar crime. They thought throwing suspicion on you would make it easier for them to get away with it.”
She stopped and closed her eyes, face pale. “Thank God Bryce escaped. But what if they try again?”
“Everyone is on guard now,” Carter said. “We have to hope the cops can stop him. Obviously, the state is also involved now.”
They continued walking to her car. She looked around the almost empty parking lot. “How did you get here?” she asked.
“I walked.” Ran, really, but she didn’t need to know that.
“I can give you a ride to wherever you need to be.”
“That would be great. I should probably get back to the office.” Though he didn’t look forward to the lecture his mother would likely give him for running out on a tour.
As Mira pulled into the parking space nearest the entrance to Alpine Jeep Rental, Bethany emerged.
She hurried to meet Carter as he exited Mira’s rental car.
“Where did you disappear to?” she asked.
“Dalton had to take your ten o’clock tour and Mom is furious.
Oh, hello, Mira.” She looked from Carter to Mira and back again, clearly curious.
Carter leaned back into the car to address Mira. “Thanks for the ride,” he said. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m better now,” she said. “Thanks. For everything.” She shifted the car into reverse. “I’ll see you Monday night.”
“Monday night?” Had they made a date he’d forgotten?
“At class.”
Right. Class. She smiled and he felt the full force of the look. She made him feel more like a real hero than any praise anyone else could have heaped on him.