Page 63 of Honorable Sins

"No. Behavioral guidelines are clear and they are not being adhered to."

"That’s a simplified ver—"

I put my hand up. "It is a simple situation. You had written guidelines approved by the school board to follow and you did not adhere to them. When you were tasked with that lack of adherence, you attempted to hide the evidence of your mistakes."

Bentley clears his throat. "This is becoming unfair. It feels very much like I’m on trial here. I thought this was a meeting to discuss the unfortunate incident last week and how best to avoid it happening again."

"The solution to that is evident," my husband says in a tone that makes Mark blanche.

I shake my head in disbelief. "Unfair? You know what unfair is?" I don't wait for an answer. "It’s a twelve-year-old girl afraid to go to school. It’s my son forced into a violent confrontation to protect her because a group of boys who were mentioned in several unresolved complaints by other students had not been held accountable before their behavior escalated to the reprehensible."

For the first time since the meeting began, JoAnn Young speaks. "After documenting escalating concerns, I recommended intervention. Mark said he spoke to their parents personally and it was handled."

"There is no record of that interaction," I say.

Mark avoids making eye contact with Mick while trying to give me an earnest look. "It didn’t happen at the school."

"That is not school policy," JoAnn says, her voice clear and steady.

"I have found that—"

"Your opinion is of very little interest to me," I say, cutting him off. "Your experiences even less so. A young girl was assaulted because of your negligence."

"I think we're losing perspective."

I stare at him. That’s his defense? "I don't."

"This is a very emotional situation."

"It should be."

He spreads his hands. "Children make mistakes."

"So do principals. Those boys should have been held accountable before now. Before their behavior had deteriorated to the level of criminality."

Which I am aware is funny distinction for me to make, but the school is not the mob and most of the parents here understand the term in a different way than we do.

"When children tell adults they're scared, adults are supposed to do something," Aine’s voice rings with conviction.

"I hand my child over every morning and trust the staff at St. Patrick’s to keep him safe." Which is not exactly true.

Fitz has bodyguards who did not interfere with his altercation because he ordered them not to and they listened because he has training unequaled by the adults at the school much less the other children.

But what I’m saying is true for the other parents.

"I trusted you with Fitz." I indicate Áine. "And she trusted you with Sadie."

"I'm very sorry your daughter experienced—"

Áine stands so abruptly her chair tips backward and her glare is scarier than Wraith’s right now. "You don't get to say you're sorry. My daughter has trauma related to what happened to her last week that she will have to deal with for the rest of her life because you thought the old boy's network was more important than my child. You’re sorry isn’t worth crap."

Áine is tough in a way few people are and I can't help admiring her. She and Wraith were attacked on their way home after getting coffee only a couple of days ago and here she is, standing up for her daughter, showing no signs of what that attack and the aftermath must have cost her.

When Wraith interrogated the surviving attackers, he learned that it was a hit disguised as a mugging. Worse. So much worse, he learned that after killing Áine, the gangbangers had orders to kidnap Sadie to be sold to a buyer that Demon, the leader of the Hollow Point Kings, had already made arrangements with.

Demon has a partner in his disgusting business dealings. No one knows his name but he's a rich businessman.

Kenneth Shaughnessy. We're sure of it, but are scrambling to find proof because my father doesn't want to believe his own flesh and blood could be involved in human trafficking.