“Well, she’s literally right down here in the basement. I’ll get—”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Just tell her not to come back to school. Take a break from teaching. You know, to rest and take care of you guys.”
There was this strange silence. I bet he knew I saw right through his cheap attempt to make this look like anything other than what it really was.
They were getting rid of her. Because of Mom. And they knew the job meant so much to her. A lifeline still keeping her together. And now they were taking it from her, so they’d better make it sound like it was for her best … not theirs.
“I think she really likes going to work,” I said, as if I could change his mind. “And her students told her the other day how glad they are that she’s still teaching and helping them.”
“Well, buddy …” Mr. Hoover sighed. He sounded like he was talking to a baby or a dog. In that weird kid-friendly voice. It was so fake it was insulting. “I know it’s hard for a kid to understand adult matters, but I’m really doing this for your grandma and—”
“Fuck you.”
“What?”
“I said fuck you. You’re doing this for my grandma, but don’t even have the balls to fire her yourself? You want to use her teenage grandson to deliver the bad news? My grandma has given your school everything, and you don’t even have the decency to meet with her in person. Freaking coward.”
“Ummm …”
“You’ll hear from our lawyer!” I said and hung up.
Then I just stood there. I could literally feel my grandma’s pain over losing this job running through me. She loved being a teacher. And she was so good at it. Many of her kids went on to college because of her and her alone. Now they were pulling this shit because of something someone else did and blamed my mom for.
I ignored my pizza and walked into the basement, which Grandma had turned into an investigation room over the last few hours. She’d hauled several side tables down the stairs and spread the files she got from Jack’s office across them. She’d also sorted reports and evidence into little piles on the floor. Witness statements near the water heater and crime-scene photos on the cleaning-supply shelf. Everything else, including motives, was on the side tables.
“Grandma?” I stopped halfway down the stairs.
“Yeah?” She looked up, sitting on a chair in the middle of the chaos. Reading some document.
“I … have some really bad news.”
She just froze and stared at me.
“Mr. Hoover called, and—”
“That’s okay.” She focused back on the paper.
I chose my next words carefully, suspecting she most likely misunderstood what I was about to tell her. But before I could say more, she shrugged.
“It was only a matter of time before they would fire me. But it gives me more time to get your mom out, so it’s probably for the best.”
My lips pinched hard. Her face didn’t give anything away, but the way her hands clenched the paper told me that another piece of her heart had just shattered.
“How is it going?” I asked quickly, trying to change the topic. I took a few more steps, but she jumped up from her chair.
“Wait! Don’t come down!” She rushed to the shelf. I caught a glimpse of the photos of Zach’s mutilated body. My stomach clenched. They said he had forty-four stab wounds. His guts had spilled out. Literally. Whoever did this to Zach wasn’t just angry. He or she was a monster.
“You can come down now,” she said, after having flipped the images facedown so only the white backs showed.
I walked into the middle of all the piles, my eyes flicking over her setup. Then we locked eyes. She looked worried. Maybe she thought I’d tell her that she had to let the cops do their jobs. That all this was insane. And maybe it was. A teacher pretending to be Columbo in a basement filled with spiders.
But this woman was the strongest person I probably knew. So my doubts hardened into something else.
Determination and faith.
“How can I help?” I asked.
“Oh, honey … that’s so kind. I really appreciate it, but—”
