Page 122 of Wicked Rivals

Enzo and I got out of the car and shut our doors at the same time, and I headed for the stairs in a heartbeat. Before I reached them, Enzo grabbed my hand and pulled me to the side.

“Not that way,” he said. “They lock that door after school, but the security guards leave one of the side doors unlocked. There’s always a guard here, even when everything’s closed.”

I didn't want to think about why my son knew which of his school’s doors were unlocked at any given time of day, but that was a conversation for later.

So we snuck around the side of the large stone building, dodging bushes and piles of leaves left by the groundskeepers to get to the small metal side door.

Enzo reached out to open it, but I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“What are the rules?” I asked.

“Fine,” he grumbled, stepping behind me.

“Before I open the door, tell me where we're going.”

“There's a small staircase to the left. Mr. Luka's classroom is on the third floor.”

“Is the mosaic on the third floor too?”

“Yeah, but it's in front of the main staircase. We’ll get to Mr. Luka's room first this way. I think it might be better to check there ‘cause it's not like he's going to keep her in the middle of the floor like that when a security guard is here.”

“Smart thinking.”

I grabbed the metal handle and pulled open the door.

Everything looked clear, so we crept left down the marble hallway to the side staircase. The clean chemical smell alone brought me back to my youth.

Was Enzo like me as a student, reserved and serious? Did he get along with the other kids? Did he have a few friends, or was he more of a loner? Someday I would ask him these things.

As quietly as possible, we climbed to the third floor. At the landing, I shot him a questioning glance, and he pointed straight ahead.

Each classroom had a wooden door with a small placard on it showing the teacher's name and the subject they taught. A small amount of light reflected from the rectangular windows above the placards on each door.

When we came to Mr. Luka’s room, the lights were off, but I opened the door anyway. Nothing.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Where’s the mosaic?”

Enzo pointed down the hall and started in that direction.

“Rules,” I reminded him sternly.

He stopped, looked over his shoulder at me, rolled his eyes, and circled back behind me.

Sure, I kind of enjoyed pulling the parent card.

Reaching the mosaic erased any doubt that Val and her kidnapper had been here. A pool of blood greeted us there, dark and thick and stained brown around the edges to match the thinner streaks across the floor.

Those streaks trailed off to the side, interspersed with partial footprints and sporadic smears.

When I looked over my shoulder at Enzo, he’d already started to tremble. I could tell he wanted to run down the hallway and follow the trail. So I turned to him, took a knee, and gripped his shoulders to make him look at me.

Only then, as I studied his face, did I realize he shook not with fear but with rage.

“Look at me,” I said.

It took him a second, but when he finally met my gaze, it was crystal clear.

“Do you see what I see here?”

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