Page 30 of Bridge to Safety

“No, but someone attacked the Nelsons. My guess is Duke.” She’d tell Rowan the next time they spoke.

“He doesn’t respect women,” Melinda said, “but he’s not a murderer.”

“They didn’t die.” Appetite gone, Shiloh put the uneaten portion of her sandwich back in her lunch bag. “Duke is known to attack those who oppose him. Mr. Nelson called the authorities on Duke last week.” She pushed to her feet. “I’m going to watch him very closely.”

“Closer than he watches you?” Melinda arched a brow. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Well, at least you’re no longer accusing me of wanting him.” She headed for her classroom but froze in the doorway.

Duke stood on a ladder replacing a bulb. “Come on in. You won’t be in my way.”

No way would she be in a room alone with him. She’d put her lunch away and head to the playground.

“Cute room. I wish I had had a pretty teacher like you when I was kid. I might not have ditched so much.”

Without responding, she opened her bottom desk drawer and dropped her lunch bag inside. Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the door.

“It’s getting old—you playing hard to get, Shiloh.” He climbed down the ladder. “The sooner you realize your fate, the better for everyone.”

She shot him a look, her legs growing weak at the harshness on his face. She hurried toward the door only to be stopped when Duke grabbed her arm. “Get your hands off of me.” She yanked free. “Touch me again, and I’ll call the sheriff.” She reached the door when his voice sounded.

“Wake up, Shiloh, before something happens to wake you up,”

With his threat hovering over her, she walked on trembling legs to the playground. She leaned against the brick wall of the school and watched her students play a game of kickball.

What she needed to find was evidence that Duke attacked the Nelsons. That very evidence could be the spot on his boot. He wouldn’t be able to harass her or harm anyone else if he sat behind bars. Rather than wait until she saw Rowan, she sent him a text about the spot on the boot.

But how? She couldn’t—wouldn’t—pretend she’d “woken up.” Duke would demand a physical relationship—something she would never agree to. He’d already taken away her innocence. No longer the naïve, rebellious teen, she was now a grown woman with the ability to bring him down.

She could break into his house. Take a day off work and sneak in while he worked. If caught, though, the consequence would be severe. Unless she got caught by the authorities. Then they’d give her a slap on the hand, a warning. Since the department knew of the danger Duke posed to her, they might be lenient on her punishment. Would it be worth it? Yeah, maybe.

She focused her attention on her students. Would she lose her job if caught? Most definitely if she got arrested. Her shoulders slumped. She had a lot of serious thinking to do.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch recess. She stood waiting for her students to line up. When they reached her room, relief flooded through her to see Duke had done his work and moved on.

A boy in her class raised his hand.

“Yes, Ryan?”

“Are you dating my cousin, Duke? He said you were.”

“No, I am not.” She opened the door to the school. Duke was spreading rumors now? People would believe him. She’d been down this road before. Only this time, she wouldn’t run.

~

Duke would resort to scare tactics if that’s what it took to force Shiloh to open her eyes. He shouldered open another classroom and set up the ladder.

Twice a year he helped the maintenance worker with bulbs and air filters. If he worked slowly, he could stretch the job to two days—two days he’d get to see Shiloh in the afternoons. He needed the mornings for work at the garage.

Duke had enjoyed their little sparring session in the cafeteria. Seeing she still had spunk made the chase that much more enjoyable.

She also wasn’t stupid. Because he’d been negligent about cleaning his boots properly, she’d spotted Nelson’s blood. What would she do with her suspicion? Go to the sheriff or keep it to herself?

The Nelsons wouldn’t know it was him. He’d disguised his voice and covered his face. He doubted they’d have looked at his boots. No, they’d been terrified and followed his orders, even when he told them to lie on the bed so he could tie them up.

Oh, the look in their eyes when he’d pulled his knife. The shriek that had erupted from the woman when he made the cut. The cries of her husband. He was the one responsible. He and his nosiness.

While he didn’t think they knew the identity of their attacker, he needed to make sure they didn’t say anything if they did. A threatening letter would work. He’d let them know that talking would result in more than the loss of a nose. They’d find themselves buried.

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