A Son's Tale. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      CHAPTER TWO

      SILENCEHUNGOVERthe classroom for thirty seconds or more after Morgan Lowen’s dash from the room. Her frantic words—“My son is missing from school!”—occupied the space, squeezing out all the excess air.

      And then the rumbling started—low voices emanating from seats all across the room. His students’ wide-eyed glances darted between one another, the door, him. One kid—“Jackass,” Cal had privately dubbed him—sat there staring at his electronic tablet, looking bored. That’s when Cal noticed the wireless device mostly concealed by the kid’s long, unkempt hair. He had an earphone in. And was listening to God knew what on Cal’s time.

      “Class dismissed,” Cal said, filing away a mental reminder to pursue wireless Jackass at some future date.

      Yeah, this was college. Yeah, students were responsible for their own education at this point. But he had more to teach than knowledge of American literature. He had the minds of tomorrow in his sphere and he took his job seriously.

      He answered a couple of questions about a two-thousand-word paper due at midterm and confirmed that they’d be covering The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn all of the following week as the syllabus stated.

      “You think her kid’s going to be okay?” Bella was standing by the long table that served as his desk at the front of the window-lined classroom.

      “I do,” Cal said, ignoring the thread of alarm trying to take up residence within him. “She said he was missing from school. He’s probably just playing hooky. Or hiding out with a friend in the bathroom. It’s summer school so things are a little less strict and kids have more of a tendency to roam.”

      “Some jerks once locked my little brother in his locker,” Bella said, sliding her electronic notebook into her backpack. “He was there for an hour before anyone knew he was missing.”

      “His teachers didn’t miss him?”

      “They had a sub and it was during lunch break.”

      And someone should have noticed he was gone. Like they’d obviously noticed Morgan Lowen’s son was missing.

      “They should check the lockers for him,” Bella added, standing in front of him with her backpack slung over one shoulder.

      “I’m sure they’ll find him.” Cal slid a couple of folders, notes, into his soft-sided leather briefcase.

      “I didn’t even know she had a son.”

      Cal had. He knew, too, that she’d given birth to and raised the boy completely on her own, but he wasn’t going to gossip about another student. What he wanted to do was get back to his office in case she contacted him. He and Morgan had never crossed the line between teacher and student; he’d kept his interest in her completely professional, but he’d be kidding himself if he said he wasn’t attracted to her.

      And Cal did not kid himself. He couldn’t afford the luxury.

      Morgan had been having some troubles with her son. He knew because she’d missed class in the spring due to some antics the boy had pulled at school.

      He hoped she’d also let him know that Sammie was fine.

      “She doesn’t wear a wedding ring.” Bella was still standing there.

      Again, Cal said nothing and Bella, after staring at him for another several seconds, shrugged.

      “Well, I just hope everything’s fine. Have a great weekend, Dr. Whittier. See you Monday.”

      She walked out, allowing Cal to hurry to his office.

      * * *

      MORGANCOULDN’TREMEMBER the four-block drive from Wallace University to Rouse Elementary. She’d run out of class and ended up in the parking lot of her son’s school. She’d called her mom. But only to ask her if she’d heard from Sammie. Grace Lowen was going to be taking Sammie to Little League practice Saturday while Morgan officiated sack races at the day care. Morgan had told Sammie that morning to call his grandmother and remind her of the next day’s practice.

      Grace hadn’t heard from him.

      The call with her mother lasted about thirty seconds. Morgan didn’t let on that anything was amiss. She didn’t know for sure that it was.

      And she couldn’t deal with her father at the moment.

      Julie was pacing the sidewalk at the entrance of the parking lot when Morgan pulled up in her eight-year-old Ford Taurus, purchased used the year before. Julie jumped in and Morgan pulled into the closest parking spot.

      “Oh, God, Morg, I have no idea how this happened,” Julie said, glancing toward the door of the school. “Mr. Peterson has already called the police.”

      The school principal. A man Morgan had always thought was calm and rational, ready to call the police?

      “He’s got to be hiding someplace,” Morgan said, swallowing panic. “Did they check the bathrooms? The girls’, too?”

      Julie nodded.

      “What about the shop? Did you check the shop? You know he wanted to finish that little wood car he’d started last session.”

      Julie was already shaking her head. “He asked to use the restroom,” she said. “The hall security camera shows him going into the boys’ restroom at the end of the hall, and in twenty minutes of tape, he never came back out. But he’s definitely not in there.”

      “What about СКАЧАТЬ