“Good gracious, Emily, it’s good to see you.” Beaming, he gave her a hug. “How’re your folks?”
“Fine, Mr. Call.” Except for worrying about their daughter. Emily took a deep breath and prepared to ask him about that night, but he spoke first.
“Come on inside and let me show you something I’ll bet you haven’t seen.”
Inside? The school? She couldn’t do that. She only needed a moment of his time; they could talk out here.
“I’m sure you’re busy, and I just—”
“Nonsense. Come along.”
He ushered her toward the main building even as she grappled for a reason she couldn’t go. She hadn’t set foot inside this school since graduation, and she’d only attended that meaningless event to make her parents happy. No one understood why Emily refused to make a speech about her dead best friend. They didn’t get that all the right words had been trapped in a place Emily could no longer touch.
Five feet inside the main entrance and Emily wanted to run. Her knees tried to buckle, but the principal’s hand at her back kept her moving forward. He’d been talking nonstop, but not a word had penetrated the barrier of dread swaddling her brain and rendering the organ inaccessible.
Air rushed into her lungs when she wanted desperately to hold her breath. The smell ... the scents found nowhere else except inside this building awakened a part of her mind that she’d shut down out of necessity long ago. Pencils and books, markers and reams of paper.
He steered her forward and, as if she had suddenly been transported back in time, the empty corridor filled with faces and sounds from the past. The rush of students late for homeroom. The excited chatter about the coming dance. The teasing, flirting, and whispered gossip.
The principal’s voice dragged her back to the present. “We dedicated the senior hall to Heather.”
Heather Baker Hall.
Emily managed a shaky smile even as the urge to cry knocked against her unsteady defenses. “It’s great. A beautiful tribute.” Somehow her voice came out admirably composed.
“We wanted to keep her memory alive.” He stared at the plaque that showed Heather in her cheerleading uniform and proclaimed this wing her namesake.
“Everybody loved her,” Emily murmured. “She didn’t have any enemies.”
“Not the first one,” he agreed. “Heather was one of our most loved students.”
Emily hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. Since she had, she might as well get an answer to the question she’d come here to ask. “Mr. Call?”
The principal’s expectant gaze shifted to her.
“That ... night.” She moistened her lips and fought to keep her voice steady. “Did you see anyone on my street? Another car? Someone walking?”
Principal Call’s house had been the target that night. Hazing week. Emily’s turn to lead. Another of the senior cheerleaders, her good friend Megan, had helped, along with the new freshman members of the squad. Emily had sneaked out of the house, leaving Heather in her room to cover for her in case her parents came home early.
Principal Call stroked his chin. “The police asked me that,” he said, his voice sounding distant, as if he had gone back to that awful night as Emily had so many, many times. “I tried my best to recall if I’d seen anyone, but the truth is I couldn’t be absolutely certain there wasn’t someone lurking around the neighborhood. It all happened too fast.”
“But you told the police you didn’t see anyone, right?” She needed to hear him say that. Needed that confirmation. Probably the passage of time had clouded his memory. She didn’t even remember him testifying at the trial and she’d thought she would never forget a moment of it. “You were called as a witness at the trial, weren’t you?”
He nodded. “That’s right, but it was dark, Emily. I can’t be certain there was no one on the sidewalk or in one of the yards that I simply didn’t see. I was too fired up at you and Megan for driving away so recklessly.”
Emily managed a shaky smile. “I understand. I don’t know if I ever told you, but I’m sorry we hit your mailbox.” It was the onlytime she and her friends had ever gotten caught, and getting away had been instinct.
He patted Emily on the shoulder. “It was no big deal, Emily. I really just wanted to make sure you girls got home okay considering the way Megan was driving.” His brow furrowed. “Are you thinking that Clint Austin had an accomplice that night? Has his overturned conviction prompted concern about what you believe happened that night?”
She should have anticipated that his curiosity would be roused by her question. “No. I ... I just wondered.” He was looking at her the way her parents did. Entering one of those zones that spoke of sympathy or concern. She couldn’t go there with him. She had to get out of here before the questions and advice started to flow. “I really have to go.”
“You know,” the principal said, his expression turning somber to match his tone, “I’ve wondered many times if I’d stopped at your house first instead of following Megan down the block I might have been able to help. Calling the police after I heard the screams just wasn’t enough.” He shook his head and heaved a heart-heavy sigh. “How could anyone possibly have imagined what that boy was doing that night?” The big man shuddered visibly.
Emily wasn’t sure how she resisted the impulse to run away from the moment or how she managed to reach for his hand and squeeze it, but somehow she did. “You couldn’t have known.” She cleared her throat and gestured to the plaque. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“It was really good to see you, Emily. You’ll have to be sure and attend the reunion this fall,” he implored, his dark eyes suspiciously bright. “Ten years is a major milestone.”
Ten years ... a milestone all right. Just not the one he thought. He said something else, she was pretty sure she called an answer over her shoulder, but she couldn’t be certain and she definitely couldn’t look back.
