LITMIR.BIZ

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picked up a copy of the book the students were presently reading. The Sonnets of William Shakespeare. He hadn’t been kidding earlier when he’d made that remark to Ms. Hunter about understanding Shakespeare. Apparently the jokes were on him now. He shouldn’t be surprised she’d put him in this class. She was probably in her office now, laughing about it with her lackey.

      Owen fanned through the paperback book, noting the number of poems that raced by on the flipping pages. “There’s over a hundred of them. How am I going to pull this off?” he said, wondering if teachers could tuck cheat sheets up their sleeves. He made a mental note to make some tonight. He had to appear as if he knew what he was talking about, if for no other reason than to put the laugh back on Ms. Hunter.

      After folding the syllabus, he stuffed it into the book and stood from his hopefully very temporary desk. He slipped the book in his back jeans pocket and hit the lights to the classroom.

      The hall lights were all off except for red emergency lighting that lit up the corridors like a runway. He followed them back, turning at the corner of his wing into the main hall. The office door was sealed shut at the end of the long stretch. Had everyone gone home and left him there without as much as a goodbye?

      What about his note to Ms. Hunter? Had she stood him up? All right, maybe stood up was the wrong phrase. That sounded too datelike, and a date was the furthest thing from his calendar.

      He glanced at his watch; the red hue made it hard to read the little hand on the six. Through the glass entry doors, the last rays of sun filtered in, casting shadows on the walls and floor at the end of the hallway. Miriam Hunter and her sidekick were probably having dinner without him right now, thinking up ways to make his job harder. As if things couldn’t get any harder than finding a drug supplier while teaching English.

      Owen made his way to the exit. He didn’t have a key yet, but he knew the doors would lock as soon as they closed. A jingling sound came from behind him. His rubber soles squeaked on the tile and echoed through the long empty hallway. He circled around, an ear tuned for the sound again. Something metal, if he wasn’t mistaken.

      “Hello?” he called down the hall. “Anyone here?”

      Nothing.

      His hand went to his back for his concealed weapon. With his gun at his side, he took a silent step. His eyes darted to each closed classroom door. Anyone could be behind any of them. Any student could have hidden out after dismissal, waiting for an opportunity to make a drop or to get something in or out of the school while no one was there to see.

      A door clicked behind him. Owen whipped around. The sight of Nick unlocking the entrance doors from the outside had Owen releasing his breath and reholstering his Glock.

      Nick stepped inside, but didn’t notice Owen standing halfway down the hallway. Owen cleared his throat to make his presence known. With a gasp, Nick grabbed at his chest in surprise. “Oh, man, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you still doing here?”

      “Sorry.” Owen walked toward Nick. “I was on my way out, but I thought I heard something. I was checking it out.”

      “It’s an old building. It’s always making weird sounds. You’ll get used to it.” Nick headed to the office and fumbled with a set of keys. When he attempted to insert a key into the doorknob, he missed the keyhole and dropped them to the floor with a clatter.

      Skittish or clumsy? Owen debated while he watched Nick bend to pick the set up and try again. “Hopefully I’m not here long enough to get used to it. But while I am here, could I get a key?”

      “Oh, well, technically, I’m not authorized to hand them out. But under the circumstances, I’m sure Ms. Hunter won’t mind me giving you one.”

      “Right, you’re just the interpreter,” Owen reiterated. The question Owen wanted to ask was: What else was Nick Danforth to the principal? “How can I reach Ms. Hunter? We were supposed to meet tonight. I have a few things I need to speak with her about before tomorrow.”

      “I’ll give you her cell number. You can text her. Unless you happen to have a TTY machine.”

      “I do,” Owen answered, but he wasn’t about to elaborate, even with the dumbfounded look that appeared on Nick’s face.

      “Oh, I guess you came prepared, huh?” With a turn of the key, Nick unlocked the door and opened it in one clean movement. He flicked a wall switch and flooded the office with white fluorescent lighting, a harsh difference from the red emergency lighting in the hallway.

      “I’ll wait here while you write her number down.” Owen stayed put, still wondering if someone else was in the building. He wanted to be in a place where he could observe if someone snuck out of one of the rooms.

      Nick approached the secretary’s desk and opened a drawer beside it for a pad of paper and pen. “Well, I’ll give them to you, but you won’t be able to reach her right now.” Hunched over the desk, he scrawled the pen across the pad in quick movements.

      Owen stood in the doorway, his arms crossed at his chest, legs spread. “Why’s that?”

      Nick shrugged. “She left early tonight. She was gone after I returned from giving you the tour.” His chin jutted at the coatrack. “Her coat’s still here, but her car is gone.”

      Owen cast a glance at the lightweight blue Windbreaker. She’d probably figured it was warm enough and didn’t need it tonight. But what was the rush that she didn’t even tell her interpreter she was leaving? At least it wasn’t only me she neglected to bid adieu to. “Is it normal for her to leave without saying goodbye?”

      Nick tore the paper from the pad. “No, but the season for swimming is coming to an end. She probably wanted to get some exercise in before the sun set.”

      Owen nodded once, remembering he’d found her out on the rock about this time last night. Apparently it was part of her summer routine.

      “I’ll be right back with your key. Wait here.” Nick unlocked Ms. Hunter’s office and disappeared through the door. After a quick minute of sliding and slamming drawers, Nick reappeared with key and note in hand. “Here you go, Agent Matthews. I put my number on there, too, in case you need anything else. Anything at all.”

      Nick seemed much friendlier than he had earlier in the day.

      “Great. Thanks.” Owen turned to leave, pocketing the key and note in his jeans. “And, Nick, you should get into the habit of calling me Mr. Matthews. So you don’t blow my cover.”

      Nick smacked his forehead. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think of that. Good thing I didn’t make that mistake with the kids around, huh? All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Matthews.”

      “Yeah, sure.” Owen inched toward the exit, thinking something didn’t feel right. Almost as if Nick was giving him the brush-off. As though he was in Nick’s way. Owen pivoted to find the guy still in the office doorway. “Out of curiosity, what brought you back here tonight?”

      “I forgot something.” He thumbed over his shoulder, insinuating whatever he’d forgotten was in the office. “I’m gonna grab it and get out of here. Have a great night.”

      Owen didn’t move, still not completely sure about the whole scene. “Where do you recommend eating on the island?”

      “Eat? Um... The Blue Lobster on Main is great. There’s also a German restaurant if you’re into beer steins and lederhosen.”

      Owen smirked, picturing Hansel and Gretel Hummel dolls. “Nah, embroidered velour isn’t my style.”

      “Yeah, me neither, but the pretty little aprons the waitresses wear are something to see at least once while you’re here.”

      Owen nodded. “I’ll make sure I put it on my list. See you in the morning.”

      “You, too.”

      Owen made it to the door and placed his hand on the metal bar to open it. As he pushed,

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