Phoenix Feather Read Online Free

teach one of the lessons as part of her practicum came up, she would do her best to engage these unimaginative young minds, making history come alive for them. That was her idealistic dream anyway. She did have more practical expectations.
    A man in a suit maneuvered his way through the exiting horde and into the classroom. He had sandy blond hair in a traditional cut, and did not carry a briefcase like a professor. He spoke quietly to Mr. Kuntz, who looked up and called for Aidan.
    She slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way to the front of the classroom. Mr. Kuntz left, however, once she had approached.
    “Aidan Quinn?” the man in the suit asked.
    “Yes.” She eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
    He reached for something in his jacket pocket. “Detective McCain. I need to ask you a few questions.”
    Aidan took in the features of his badge, yet remained silent.
    “Do you know a Jenny Rosland?”
    “Yes.”
    Detective McCain flipped open a notepad and clicked a pen. He held the ballpoint just above the paper, poised to take anything down. “When did you last see her?”
    “Over a week ago.”
    “Are you close?”
    “Not really. We’re part of the same book club, but she wasn’t there last Sunday.” The pen began scribbling and Aidan’s adrenaline stirred. “What’s happened to her?”
    The detective looked up. “She was found murdered this morning.” He had a look of sympathy, but also one looking for a reaction. “Phone records show you called her—around the time she might have disappeared. So you didn’t see her Sunday?”
    Aidan’s muscles froze. Murdered. It wasn’t a new word, but it was the first in this life, and more unexpected now than it had been in the past. Jenny was an English student; she loved books and always provided lattes and mochas when it was her turn to host the club. Aidan remembered a bubbling, sometimes hyperactive, young woman, certainly not the type of person Aidan would imagine being murdered.
    “She missed book club,” Aidan said in a quiet voice. “I thought maybe she had a paper or something like that, even though she was usually good about telling us.”
    Detective McCain loosened his shoulders and softened his tone. “I’m sorry for your loss. Do you know if she had any enemies? Maybe ex-boyfriends?”
    Aidan shook her head. “I don’t know that much about her. I’m studying history; she’s studying English. All we ever talked about were books. It was a way to step outside the stress of life.” She frowned. “She was murdered Sunday and no one noticed?”
    “Not exactly,” the detective hedged. “Do you know if she was having trouble of some kind?”
    “The last time I saw her she was tired, but still herself: cheerful. You think she was kidnapped first?”
    “It’s an ongoing investigation,” McCain answered. “If you think of anything, give me a call.” He dug in his wallet for a business card and handed it to her. “If I have more questions, I’ll contact you.” He closed his notepad and left.
    Aidan held the small piece of cardstock between her fingers. She couldn’t stop the images of war and death from swirling around in her mind. All those memories of lives extinguished when she, immortal, always came back. She found herself standing alone in an empty lecture hall, a place that had seen thousands of people pass through in the last century. But the updated whitewashed walls and seats bolted to the linoleum floor did not miss any of them.
     
    Aidan knocked twice and not very forcefully, but she heard footsteps on the other side before the door opened.
    “Hey, Aidan. What’s up?” A guy with mousy and unkempt brown hair stood in the doorway. He wore a t-shirt and shorts and didn’t look as though he planned to go out anytime soon.
    Aidan didn’t say anything as she came inside and dropped her bag on the floor. Phoebe came out from the back room.
    “Hey! Aren’t you usually at the museum at this