Stalking Death Read Online Free Page B

didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. I'd seen it before. Sometimes headmasters got so caught up in the day-to-day running of their schools that they lost sight of the context, of the position of the school in the wider world of parents, alumni, and potential applicants. That was where trustees, with their broader vision, were useful, to remind Chambers that the economic security and prestige of his school depended on its reputation, and a Dean of Students to be mindful of the in loco parentis role.
    All the while, the woman behind me stayed so silent I finally looked around to see if she was alive. My CPR was rusty—I'd only used it once in fifteen years—but I would have given it my best shot if she was lying there unconscious. She wasn't. She was sitting, still as a statue, watching him and waiting. If I lived a thousand years, I'd never develop that kind of patience.
    "It started the first week of school," he said finally.
    "So, about a month ago?"
    "Yes."
    "The student who says she's being stalked, who is she? Tell me about her." What he chose to tell would reveal as much about him and his reading of the situation as it would about the girl.
    "She's African-American," he said. "An athlete. Here on a full scholarship. Decent student. Not stellar, she came to us with a lot of educational deficits, but adequate. Something of a gift for poetry, I believe."
    I waited for the details that would explain her more fully. What her personality was like, whether she played well with others, got along with her roommate, was quiet or loud, introverted or extroverted. Whether she observed curfews and followed the rules or was rebellious, a risk-taker or a discipline problem. If she'd come with a history of mental or emotional instability. And what her sport was.
    "Actually, she's only half black. But she's got a lot of attitude. She can be..." He searched for the right word, settled on prickly. "She followed her older brother, Jamison. He's a brilliant athlete. A campus leader. Charming. Personable. He's a senior this year. We'll be sorry to lose him."
    But not his sister. His sister who, thus far, remained unnamed. "And her name is?"
    "Shondra."
    At this rate we'd be lucky to get through this by midnight. Since it was clear we weren't going to be finished anytime soon, I needed to think about a place to stay tonight. But first, the girl's whole name. "Shondra what?"
    He looked puzzled, as if, she being in the wrong and all, her name didn't matter. "Jones."
    I was willing to bet, just from the little he'd said, that her name mattered very much to her. I looked pointedly at my watch. "It doesn't look like I'm going to be driving back tonight, especially if you want me to meet this girl. Is there a motel or a bed and breakfast you'd recommend?"
    My query was about as welcome as a skunk at a wedding. It even stirred the silent woman behind me. Now that I was asking questions instead of following his script, he wanted me gone. But it was he who'd insisted we meet face-to-face, he who wanted me to talk to this girl. Maybe that had been part of the rubber stamp—first approve the letter, then get the dirty job of explaining it to her. Had he seriously expected either thing to happen? I reminded myself that however dense or difficult he was being, he was my client, even if he was playing hard to help.
    Despite the way I was foiling his plans right and left, he eased the sulky expression off his face and found some manners. "Many of our parents like The Swan. It's our local B&B. It's very nice. Our parents can be particular." He paused. "But of course you know that. You're very familiar with our little world."
    He picked up the phone and made me a reservation. Of course, keeping his parents happy was a big part of his job. I didn't mind if he momentarily confused me with them. I didn't even wrinkle my nose at his use of the phrase 'our little world.' Practically speaking, he was right. The private school world did serve a small