Calculated Revenge. Jill Elizabeth Nelson

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      “Don’t worry, Mama.” Her daughter patted Laney’s cheek. “God’s watching over us.”

      The depth of faith in the simple statements stole Laney’s breath. Where was her faith? It sure wasn’t very strong in this area. She struggled to believe God would—not could—keep them safe from this monster? Why hadn’t He protected Gracie?

      Why didn’t you? A small voice accused.

      A rap on the door brought her head around. Noah sidled halfway inside. His questioning stare met hers.

      Laney rose. “You shouldn’t have to knock to enter your own office.”

      “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t intruding at a bad moment.”

      “No, we’re done here.”

      “You okay, princess?” His gaze fell toward Briana, who beamed at him. As usual, Noah had said exactly the right thing. Bree’s pink princess pajamas were her favorite.

      “I’m fine, Mr. Ryder.” The little girl hopped up. “Mama told me about my Auntie Grace and the bad man who’s come back.” She stepped toward the principal, face tilted up toward him. “I’m glad you’re gonna help keep us safe.”

      Noah rendered a half smile. “I’ll do my best.” He looked toward Laney. “Everyone’s gathering in the gymnasium. I’ll escort you to a secure location backstage.”

      “We’re ready.” Laney nodded, not at all sure she’d spoken the truth.

      She snagged her daughter’s hand and followed on Noah’s heels. As always, his presence enveloped her like a warm security blanket, and she craved more of that feeling. Too bad the principal had made it clear, by fending off more than one unwed teacher’s batted eyelashes, that he wasn’t interested in a work romance, even though there was no rule against it.

      They wove through a hallway teeming with children and adults headed for the gym, which doubled as an auditorium in this small school. The masses parted before the school principal, and Laney kept herself and Briana closely in his wake. She caught snatches of agitated speculation in conversations buzzing around her. Soon they went through a doorway and entered the relative calm of the stairwell that gave backstage access. As they climbed the few stairs, the faint scent of resin-coated boards greeted her. Two folding chairs waited in the left wing area between the heavy, velvet curtains. A city police officer hovered nearby.

      “I’ll leave you in Deputy Carlson’s capable hands,” Noah told them with a nod toward Laney and a wink at Briana, who warbled a tiny giggle.

      “Thank you,” Laney breathed.

      Something in her expression must have betrayed that she hovered between petrified and panicked, because he laid his hands on her shoulders. His solid nearness drew her. What would he think if he knew how tempted she was to throw herself into his arms? She kept her gaze averted. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the pulse pumping in her throat.

      “You’re doing great, Laney,” he said. Then he leaned closer. His warm breath feathered the hair on the top of her head. “Hang tough. We’re going to get through this.”

      She lifted her head, but he’d already turned away. Did he say we? Just how much could she presume on this man?

      Laney watched Noah Ryder walk out onto the stage. The muted roar of conversation dimmed, and at his first words, halted.

      Butterflies fluttered around inside Laney’s stomach. In a few minutes, every student and staffer would know about the greatest tragedy of her life—a tragedy that now cast a shadow over theirs. In a few hours, the entire town would know. If the flourishing local grapevine hadn’t accomplished that task already.

      Who did this murderous pervert think he was? Why had he returned to plague her now, after all these years? How could she, or anyone, possibly keep her daughter safe?

      Laney sank onto one of the chairs and pulled Briana onto her lap, hugging her close. Officer Carlson nodded approval. No doubt he assumed she meant to offer comfort to her daughter when the opposite was closer to the truth. Only one of them was trembling, and it wasn’t the child.

      Thirty-five minutes after his presentation about what had occurred and its significance for everyone present, Noah finished interviewing the third grade class. The children sat cross-legged on the gym floor with their teachers. Some of the little faces were pale, some flushed—depending on whether they considered this situation frightening or exciting.

      Noah thanked the group and unfolded himself from the floor where he’d gotten down on their level to ask his questions. He consulted his notes as he headed for Sheriff Lindoll, who was speaking with a group of sixth graders. So far, the feedback indicated that the backpack had not been on the playground during the first half of recess period when grades kindergarten through three were outside.

      The sheriff turned away from his group and met Noah in the middle of the gym floor. “I’ve got credible positives on the bag being seen by students and teachers during the second recess period.”

      Noah nodded. “I’ve got the opposite with the younger group. It looks like either the bag was placed during the ten minutes between recess periods or when grades four to six were on the grounds.”

      “Sounds reasonable.”

      “Has anyone reported seeing who left it?”

      “Negative. But we’re not done talking to people.”

      “Yes, you are,” sniped a voice from the past.

      Spine stiff, Noah swiveled toward the last man on the planet he ever wanted to see again. “Hello, Special Agent Justin Burns.”

      The sheriff’s brows flew up. Was it because Noah knew the FBI agent or because he hadn’t done too well at keeping the sneer out of his tone? Burns hadn’t changed much. Looming middle age had drawn a few more creases on his bulldog face, but the frost-gray eyes were still as cold as a gravestone. As usual, he wore a crisp-pressed suit that made him look like a surly, burly version of Tommy Lee Jones in Men in Black. And the set of his pencil mouth…well, the urge to knock the arrogant expression off that mug hadn’t diminished with time.

      “It’s Supervisory Special Agent now,” Burns said, his sneer not hidden, either. “What are you doing here, Ryder? I thought you were retired from bungling investigations.”

      Make that urge a compulsion…suppressed. Barely. This time.

      Noah stretched his lips into a smile that was as good as a spit. “Tread lightly, Burns. You’re on my territory, and my students’ best interests will be served.”

      “This is our school principal.” Hank plunked a hand onto Noah’s shoulder.

      Burns barked a laugh. “Nurse-maiding the kiddies, are we?” He turned his attention toward the sheriff. “Make no mistake. We are in charge. We’ll collect whatever information your people have gathered and take the investigation from here. You’ll be informed whenever we need information from you on a local matter, but this case reaches beyond Cottonwood Grove.”

      The sheriff’s gaze met Noah’s. He sent Hank a miniscule shrug.

      “I can take СКАЧАТЬ