Page 148 of The Ruthless Note

“Something like that.”

Her veiny hands choose the petals from a bunch of different barrels. The woman hands me the arrangement and winks. “She’ll get the hint.”

“Thanks.” I pay her and leave a generous tip.

Traffic is light this early in the morning. I’m still a distance away from Redwood Prep when I notice a thin plume of smoke billowing in the air.

I immediately go into panic mode.Is Redwood on fire?

Damn it.

Brahms!

Slamming my foot on the gas, I drive like a bat out of hell and break every speed limit between here and Redwood Prep.

I pull my car right up to the courtyard and see a small crowd of security guys, janitors and gardeners hovering in front of the door.

The school isn’t on fire as I’d first assumed. Whatever is causing the smoke seems to be coming from inside, but it’s only getting thicker.

I scramble for my phone and call Cadence.

It rings and rings.

Goes to voicemail.

“Damn it.” I slam my fist on the steering wheel and shoot another frantic look at the ominous smoke pouring through the front door.

What if she’s still in there?

I don’t even stop to think before I’m stomping my car door open and racing across the lawn, my arms pumping at my sides.

One of the guards hurtles at me.

I see him from the corner of my eye, but I don’t stop.

That’s a mistake.

One minute, I’m on my feet, the next—I’m getting tackled to the grass.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cross,” he says, “you can’t go in there. The fire department said to stay outside.”

I push his arms away and kick him off me. He grunts as he rolls to the side. Springing to my feet, I fly straight through the front doors.

The smoke is much thicker than I expected. It billows down the hallway, crawling like a demon straight out of a horror movie. The fire alarm is ringing. The high-pitched shriek only heightens my panic.

I stumble forward, coughing and batting the smoke away. It stings my eyes, but I keep pushing forward. I have to find Brahms.

Covering my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket, I plod through the shifting smoke. “Brahms!” I yell. “Cadey!”

I head straight for the classroom she was cleaning yesterday. The scent of sulfur and some kind of weird chemical makes my nose burn.

“Cadey!” I roar, covering my nose with the sleeve of my jacket.

“Dutch!”

I hear the faint sound of someone coughing.

My heart shudders with relief and I run to the neighboring classroom. In the darkness ahead, I see a figure stumbling through the smoke.

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