Page 119 of Gifts

“Never,” he repeats.

*****

Asa

“Dooley thinks something’s going down soon,” Jarvis informs the room.

I look across Crew’s office where Jarvis is leaning against the wall.

“He’s on fire about his cousin. I guess Raymond Wallace hasn’t been home in years, but for some reason made a surprise visit to his mom yesterday. Raymond has two little sisters, and with no explanation, demanded his mom not take her eyes off them and to call Dooley for help. Dooley is now providing protection for those girls, Raymond’s mom is a mess, and Raymond has once again disappeared. Dooley is pissed the fuck off and will probably kill his cousin with his own hands should he ever find him.” Jarvis shrugs like it’s no big deal when he adds, “He said the whole thing is bad for business.”

I shake my head, not giving a shit about Dooley’s business, but wonder what’s going down. The principal sent out a generic email to parents regarding the suspected increase of drug activity, but it had nothing to do with the shit that could actually go down.

“I should contact Maggie’s parents, give them a heads up. I’d put money on the fact Beth was the main target. Maggie could be next,” I say. “The school did nothing and we have no idea who else could be on their list.”

Crew stands from behind his desk and picks up his weapon, holsters it, and looks to Grady. “I’m going out with Jarvis to look for Raymond, you wanna come? He’ll flush out sooner or later—especially if shit’s gonna hit the fan soon.”

Grady gets up from his chair and starts to say something, but I interrupt, “I’d go, but at this point, I can’t let Emma out of my sight. I need to pick her up. Keelie’s staying late to work on stuff before graduation and Levi has practice.”

Grady grins. “You weren’t invited.”

“Yeah, and you promised Keelie,” Crew adds before looking to Grady with a smirk. “I did that once when I had to save your ass and it didn’t go over well with Addison.”

Grady shakes his head. “Fuck. That was three years ago. Are you ever going to let that go?”

I ignore them all. “Just keep me up to speed.”

They leave in quick order and I follow them out the door. I’ve got to call Maggie’s parents on my way to pick up Emma.

I’m not looking forward to that conversation.

*****

Keelie

It’s later than I wanted to stay, but we’re still finalizing details for next week. Somehow, I’ve been tasked with managing the memorial portion of the ceremony for Brandon and Kyler. I’ve been in touch with their parents about the details. Both sets of parents have decided it would be too painful for them to attend.

I’m ninety-nine percent resigned to the fact the humungo Infiniti isn’t a loaner—but mine. As I climb into what’s become my SUV, I toss my bags into the passenger seat and head out of the faculty parking lot. I can’t pretend knowing Asa is there to get Knox and Saylor off the bus doesn’t make my insides flip. It does. But knowing he wants to be there, to spend time with them, and hell, even loves them—I couldn’t be happier with the state of our lives.

I’m about to turn onto the road, but a car catches my eye. It’s parked cockeyed in the back corner of the student lot with a door standing open. No one is around and students aren’t allowed to meander after school hours. I make a quick right and head to the lonesome car.

I gasp at what unfolds as I pull around—first a set of legs come into view followed by a body sprawled on the pavement. I throw my loaner into park and grab my phone. Stumbling out of my seat, my heel catches in the running board, and I barely right myself before I fall on my face.

Oh, fuck. Blood. He’s lying in a pool of blood.

My fingers tremble and it takes me two tries to type the three numbers into my phone, but I finally dial nine-one-one as I fall to my knees and put my fingers to his throat.

“Tom, can you hear me? Wake up,” I beg, trying to find a pulse. His eyes are closed and his skin is pale. He’s been shot.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“Tom, say something.” I give him a shake and press harder into his neck, finding a weak pulse.

“Ma’am,” the dispatcher calls for me. “Please tell me your name.”

“He’s shot.” I exhale quickly and give them the address of the high school. “Tom Logan. He’s a counselor here. My name’s Keelie Lockhart. Hurry, he’s lying in the parking lot of the high school and it looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. Send an ambulance.”

Tom’s heavy eyes flutter and I grasp his hand.

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