Page 7 of Final Escape
“I can be there in twenty minutes. Keep your doors locked.”
“You don’t have to come. I just wanted to...um...mention it.”
This time, the pause was much longer. “You wondered where I was tonight,” he said flatly. “Because I have your cell phone number—so I could’ve made that call. Why would I do that?"
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, embarrassed. “No reason. Though one of the deputies in town doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
“Vance? Rick?” Logan sighed heavily. “Believe me, neither one has a valid reason. But right now, I’m concerned about your safety. Do you want Penny and me to come out?”
His calm concern rang true and despite her doubts earlier, she knew in her heart that Logan couldn’t be her stalker. What motive could he possibly have?
She went to the windows overlooking the balcony and peered into the calm, peaceful night. An owl hooted from a nearby tree. From far away came the faint, distant howl of a coyote, followed by a chorus of the higher pitched yips of its young.
But from here she could see nothing moving, and a sense of peace settled over her. “No...it’s not necessary. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”
CHAPTER TWO
Carrie stood at theopen door of her classroom and watched the last child burst out into the hallway.
Marie Colbert, the teacher across the hall, strolled over to join her, her dark curls bouncing with every step. “Why is it,” she said with a laugh, “that no matter how much fun we had in class, the kids act like they’re escaping a dungeon when they leave? And this is only the first day.”
Carrie flicked a glance down the hall, toward the open double doors leading out into the warm Montana sunshine. “I guess lazy summer days are meant for creek stomping, not sitting in class.”
Marie cocked her head and studied her. “You look a little tense.”
“I’m not sure that turn-of-the-century, American Western art really rang their bells.” Carrie shrugged to mask her frustration. “So I talked about how art can be a way to express deep emotions—like that done by refugee children or during wartime, thinking I might reach the kids who are so addicted to violent video games. But no luck today. I’ve got a few students whoreallydon’t want to be here.”
Marie smirked. “I’ll bet the Nelson twins justloveall that art.”
She’d pinpointed two of Carrie’s more challenging students, all right. “How did you know?”
“I had Austin and Dylan when I taught third grade. When they weren’t wrestling or lobbing spitballs, they were causing some other kind of ruckus.”
“Sounds familiar,” Carrie said drily.
“Yeah. It took all year and a trip to the doctor for Ritalin to calm them down.” Marie sighed. “I don’t think they’re taking it anymore, though. I hear they’re back to bouncing off the walls in class and haven’t learned much ever since.”
