Page 45 of Ruthless Deliverance

He breaks the silence finally. “I have practice, but I’ll see you after.”

“That’s not a promising idea. I need to head home and deal with Philip.”

“Okay. See ya around.” He shuts the car off and gets out, not saying another word to me before walking towards the school as I get in my car.

Damn it. He really needs to get out of his freakin’ mood. It’s not like we can pretend there’s nothing else going on. And I do have to deal with Philip, but first, I want to take a look around Cabot’s office while I don’t have Creed distracting me.

I wait about twenty minutes while the parking lot clears. A few vehicles remain, but Cabot is gone, so that’s all I need. The school should be nearly empty, and if not, I’ll come up with something.

Getting out of the car, I make my way across the lot and head inside the school. Sure enough. No one is in sight as I head towards the front office until a custodial worker rounds the corner. Crap.

Bypassing the admin office, I head to my locker, grab out a notebook that I don’t need, and start to make my way back to the front of the school. There’s no one in sight when I slip into the main office and walk to Cabot’s door. When I twist the knob, the door gives way. Unlocked. If there’s something he’s hiding, he’s not doing a particularly good job. Kinda like me.

Moving to the desk, I feel around for hollow spots and come up empty before moving over to the bookshelf. Nothing looks out of place until I notice an area on the shelf that is free of dust where a book has been slid out.

Grabbing the book, I look at the hardcover and flip it open. It’s hollowed out. My fingers run along the edge, before reaching in and grabbing what I see. A burner phone. This is it. There’s no other reason he’d have it hidden in a book.

Tucking the phone in my pocket, I close the book and return it to its place. He’ll notice the phone is missing soon enough, but hopefully we’ll get a chance to look into it before he tips off whoever is on the other line.

Walking out of Cabot’s office, I clutch my notebook to me as I make my way quickly through the administration space before I step out of the front office. I’m a few steps away when I see a door open before Mr. Boswell enters the hallway. The counselor gives me a warm smile that still gives me the creeps as he steps up to me. “Hey, Danica. You’re here late.”

“Yep. Just grabbing my notebook.” I gesture to the book in my hand.

“Miss Graham.”

Shit. Garbo. Out of all the teachers. Dealing with his grumpy ass in class every morning is more than enough.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re late. I don’t have all afternoon to wait on you,” he instructs me. Seeing my confusion, because I have no clue what in the hell he’s talking about, he goes on. “Bring your notebook and let’s go over the assignment one more time. But this is your last opportunity, young lady.”

Damn. He’s fussing at me, and I have no clue why. But something tells me to follow his lead. “Yes, sir.”

I give Mr. Boswell a slight nod as he says, “Don’t worry about him. He’s a harmless ole grump.”

Yes. He is but saying that to a student is unseemly. I follow Garbo to his classroom, where he opens the door, steps inside, and takes a seat at his desk. Once I’m in the classroom, he looks to the door in a way that communicates indisputably that he wants it closed. So, I pull it shut but remain near it.

Turning his eyes on the papers he’s shuffling around his desk, he says, “I’m assuming you’re quite confused at the moment.”

“Yes.” Very much so, but I’m trying to remain neutral until I see where he’s going with this.

“I’m here to keep an eye on things.”

“What things?” No. Way.

His hands stop, his head turns, and I see the same judging eyes looking over his glasses that I saw the first day of school when I arrived late. “On you. Philip knew it wouldn’t be all smooth sailing and didn’t want to send you in alone.”

What the actual fuck is going on? “Why wouldn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you?”

“He didn’t want you to have any additional worries.”

“Additional worries? Really? Then why’ve you been such a jackass to me?”

He stands from his desk, his impatient glare on me. “Because I needed to treat you the same as the other students. And I needed you to dislike me as much as they do. Philip is a good friend to me, and I gave him my word I’ll look out for you. Now you have a reason to be at school after-hours this afternoon so if whatever you were going into Cabot’s office for happens to be brought to his attention, you have an explanation for being here.”

It’s too much to process, but he’s right. Meeting a teacher is a much better story than just grabbing a notebook. “Thank you, Mr. Dick.”

He chuckles, moving to sit back at his desk. It has to be the first time I’ve seen any joy on his face, so I have to ask, “What is so damn funny?”