16. Chapter 16
Charlie
C harlie watched Théo’s mother cross the parking lot, her steps quick, almost clipped, as if she had somewhere urgent to be.
Or as if she couldn’t bear to spend one more minute with me .
It was the woman’s shoulders that held Charlie’s attention—curved inward and drawn up tight to her ears.
Charlie felt an echo of the same tension creeping through her own neck and shoulders.
That had not been a good conversation.
She stood there a moment longer, listening to the sounds of the emptying school. A door slammed—doors were always slamming inside the school—a whistle blew in the distance. Charlie stood still until Théo’s mother disappeared from view.
There’s no other choice.
You have to do it.
If she was wrong, she was wrong. She’d deal with the consequences. But she couldn’t just do nothing. That wouldn’t be fair to Théo, and he was her first priority.
She turned away from the window and walked back to her desk.
The principal picked up on the first ring. “Sean Whittaker.”
“I’m sorry to call you at this time, Sean,” Charlie began.
She kept her voice mostly steady as she updated him on her meeting with Madame Pelletier.
It was hard to avoid her feelings—so much of what concerned her were feelings, after all—but she focused on the facts.
What she’d observed, what had been said.
“What do you want to do, Charlie?” Sean asked, when she was done.
“We need to activate the protocol.”
“I’ll take care of it right now.”
He didn’t ask if she was sure, and she was grateful for that. Her boss knew her. He knew she wouldn’t have come to him if she wasn’t sure. She knew what would happen next—social services would be informed, there would be family visits, interviews with the boy, eventually, maybe police involvement.
France did not take these things lightly.
Charlie remained seated long after hanging up, her phone still in her hand. She hoped she’d done the right thing.
An image came to her, of Théo’s mother as she’d sat across from her at this very desk, her tight, pursed lips, the way her eyes had flicked to the door.
As if she half-expected someone to walk through.
More worried about her husband finding out she’d been there than about anything Charlie was saying.
Charlie pushed herself to standing.
She’d done the right thing—made the best decision she could, with the information at her disposal.
By the time she packed up her things, the school was almost empty. It struck her that an empty school was quieter than any other kind of empty building.
She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and lifted her gaze.
Lorenz stood just beyond the gate. He wore jeans and a dark green long-sleeved Henley, and his dark hair was wet, as if he’d recently showered.
Her heart gave a sudden, disconcerting flip inside her chest.
“Lorenz?” She took a step towards him. “What are you doing here?” Suddenly, she remembered the graffiti. That might be why he was here. “Is it about the—“
He shook his head, cutting her off gently. “Nothing yet. Vincent and his team have spoken to all your neighbors. Nobody saw anything. But they’re checking nearby street cameras. We might get something from that.” He paused for an instant, then spoke faster. “I’m here because I wanted to see you.”
“You did?”
“I did. I … I’ve missed you all day,” he said, his tone almost shy, when Lorenz was never shy. “And I was hoping you’d join me for dinner. The team’s getting together tonight—Damien’s hosting a barbecue for Tess’s birthday. Everybody will be there. Partners, kids.”
Charlie blinked.
“That sounds—“
Serious . Too much .
“Fun?” he asked, and he looked so hopeful, she couldn’t turn him down.
“Fun,” she agreed. “Yes. I’d like that.” She looked down at the striped shirt and jeans she’d worn to school. “Do I need to change?”
“You look perfect,” Lorenz said.