Page 21 of Final Escape
“If that were the case here, but it’s not. When you get a few years under your belt, you’ll have a more balanced view, believe me.” Marie held a hand up and fluttered her fingertips and she left the room.
Gripping the edge of her desk with both hands, Carrie watched her leave, and then she dropped her gaze to the pictures. Marie was wrong.
In two of the pictures, bare tree limbs clawed at a turbulent sky, rising from a dead tree. A raging, crimson river—ofblood?—slammed against its rocky banks and shot over massive boulders in its path. There seemed to be some sort of war scene on the other side, with people fighting with cannon and swords and guns, and mutilated bodies strewn on the ground.
Someone had takenhoursto achieve this degree of detail, and she’d stake her teaching certificate on the fact that he was a troubled child reaching out for help.
She closed her eyes and reviewed those last few moments of the class period when the students had charged for the door, and tried to picture who might be the most likely suspects.
Marie hadn’t appeared concerned about anyone in the class, but the Nelson twins were certainly a rambunctious pair. The wicked gleam in Dylan’s eyes promised trouble, and she could easily guess that his more timid brother was probably on board with whatever Dylan dreamed up.
Their mother didn’t exactly look like the other parents who waited in cars outside the school, either, with her Gabby’s Tavern T-shirts, frowsy blond hair and the snake tattoos crawling up both arms. To have that same T-shirt in several colors probably meant she waitressed there, and she certainly looked like she could take on someone in a bar fight and hold her own.
So what kind of home life did she provide for her boys?
Then there was Ashley—who sat silently at her desk, making minimal effort and exuding the air of a child who wanted to be any place other than school. Yet her perpetual sulky pout and frequent bored sighs didn’t seem like the attitude of someone who would draw violent scenes and hide them around the classroom.
If Ashley had an issue, Carrie thought with an inward smile, she would probably march up to a teacher’s desk and make her complaints perfectly clear.
None of the other kids stood out.
They all participated, to some degree, except for Noah Colwell, who appeared to be afraid of his own shadow, but the others seemed as boisterous and outgoing as any other fifth graders would be; chattering and joking with each other before and after class.
From now on, Carrie would watch them like a hawk and make sure she discovered the identity of her unknown artist. And if there did seem to be some concerns, she would definitely follow through, no matter what Marie said.
Surely Principal Grover couldn’t be as callous as Marie claimed.
CHAPTER FIVE
On Friday, with fourdrawings in her folder, Carrie guessed there would be a fifth by the time class was over, but she still hadn’t seen anyone surreptitiously leave one of them behind. The anonymous artist obviously waited each time until her back was turned.
At five minutes before class ended, she leaned against her desk and smiled. “You’re all doing anamazingjob with your paintings. We’ll finish them up on Monday so they can be displayed in the hall, and then we’ll start a unit on the influence of Native American culture on art. Any questions?”
Everyone stirred, clearly eager for the bell to ring.
“I have one for you, then. I’ve found some wonderful drawings in the room—really well done. But I don’t know who did them, and would like to give them back to the right person.” She briefly held up one of the drawings, then slipped it back in the manila folder. “Does anyone know who did them?”
