New Point (24 page)

There’s no time to pause and glance at Miles’ place, otherwise I’ll be even later to work than I already am.

My emotional scale might be out of alignment, but someone up above must have requested sublime weather today, because it’s near utopia. Humidity levels are low and the sun hits the land with the perfect amount of rays, making the sand sparkle and water glimmer. That’s one positive, flickering a light on my grim mood. It’s a day when most people won’t want to spend time inside a library reading when they can be outside. I make a mental note to indulge in some outdoor appreciation after work.

When I skid into the library’s employee entrance, it’s strangely locked. Normally Sharon arrives at the library and opens the door ahead of me. I fish my keys out of my messy purse and let myself in.

Eerie darkness greets me. The crappy coffeemaker in the break room is silent instead of sounding its lackluster drip. Where could Sharon be? The overhead lights wake up the space as I flip them on. By the time I make it to the stacks, streaming sunlight makes the room less eerie. I still flicker on the fluorescent lights, ignoring their pesky hum.

The red light on top of my desk phone flashes at me, indicating a message.

“Hi, Zoe.” A throaty cough and two sniffles accompany the voice. “It’s Sharon. I’m sorry for the late notice, but I won’t be in to the library today. As you can probably tell, I’ve caught a feisty bug, and it won’t relent. Feel free to close up shop while you eat lunch and don’t worry about not manning the desk while you are with the kids. I doubt there will be too many visitors with such a beautiful day outside. If you need anything, call me.” She rattles off her home phone number before hanging up.

Okay, I’d rather have Sharon to chat with, but I’m not worried about being alone. There’s camp in a couple of hours and then the rest of the day will float on quietly. When Blake gets into town later he’ll likely visit and help round out the afternoon.

The time before camp passes quickly in a flurry of email correspondence, bitter coffee, a bruised banana, and little time to think about Miles. Not one visitor comes through the doors in the first hour we’re open to the public. By the times kids start trickling in, I’ve almost forgotten Miles might drop Duke off.

Yeah, right.

It turns out to be Amanda who brings Duke to camp this morning, like Miles couldn’t stomach the sight of me. I battle down a twinge of anguish, forcing a bright smile to Duke and his grandmother.

“Hi there.” I know she must spot my bruised heart because she gives me a sympathetic smile.

“Good morning. It’s nice to see you here,” I tell her honestly.

“I love spending whatever time I can with my grandson. Remind me when to pick him up?”

“Hour and a half from now.”

“Um, excuse me.” Lacey hobbles into the library with Alexa by her side. By her sneer, it’s clear she hardly cares if she interrupts my conversation with Miles’ mother.

“How can I help you?” I ask pleasantly.

“Are you on your meds today? I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving Alexa with you.” Her voice is loud enough for Amanda and the other parent dropping off my final camper to hear. The polite smile on my face freezes as I realize she’s trying to make me look bad in front of Miles’ mother.

Is this lady for real?

She wants to go there, I’ll meet her.

“If you mean calcium and vitamin C, I’m all set. Thanks for checking on me, Lacey. Not too many people make sure I’m up-to-date on my vitamins.” I give her my sweetest smile, not wanting the kids to pick up on any hostility.

Her nostrils flare and eyes narrow. Even though she’s on crutches, she still manages to pull off the bad nanny look with a skintight black dress.

“Lacey, your Nana Annie invited me to coffee while my grandbaby is here. Won’t you join us?” Amanda says tartly.

Her knuckles clutch the crutches so tightly, I swear her fingers will leave indentation marks on the grips. “Fine,” she grounds out. “Bye, Alexa.” Somehow she manages to flounce off with the crutches. Amanda gives me a knowing smile, collecting the other parent under her wing and steering the drama away from me.

“Who’s ready for camp?” I ask the children. There’s an excited cheer from the ten little sets of lungs. I escort them to the lower level of the library. Down here are a set of bathrooms, a community meeting space, and the room of children’s books. This is where I intend to hold the first half of camp. After, we’ll go outside on the back patio for a snack.

It’s a cheerful space with brightly colored walls. Construction paper art from the young readers decorates a bulletin board. Posters promoting literacy and famous children’s books decorate the space. I instruct my campers to settle into a semi-circle on the floor around a high-backed black chair.

“Before we get down to business, I want to talk about something very important.”

Wide, attentive eyes watch me. This was a lesson I meant to review last Thursday, but seeing as how Miles had broken up with me a few days earlier and I was in a state of trepidation that I was going to lose my job, I forgot. I’ll right that wrong now.

“Does anyone remember last week when Alexa’s nanny Lacey fell and hurt herself?”

There’s a chorus of “Me!” and “I do!” I smile patiently at them and reach into the pocket of my dress. “That was a situation where an adult was hurt and needed help. Can anyone tell me what we should do in case of an emergency?”

Once again, they respond in a barrage of answers.

“Raise your hand, please.”

Alexa tentatively lifts her right arm into the air. I acknowledge her and the rest of the children hush.

“My mom says that if there is serious awful trouble I should call nine-one-one.”

“Exactly right, Alexa.” She smiles shyly at the praise. “When we call nine-one-one the police will send someone to help. Sometimes it is an ambulance, and other times it is a fire truck, depending on the situation. It is important to understand that we should only call this number in the chance of a serious accident. Who can give me an example of a situation where we
should
call nine-one-one?”

“When Lacey fell and hurt herself!” Duke cries.

“Please wait to be called on.” I wink when I say it to let him know he’s not in trouble when he frowns slightly. “That is correct, Duke. If there isn’t another adult around to help, that would be a time to call. Someone else give me another example.”

“If there’s a stranger trying to hurt someone,” a serious boy named Toby says when I call on him.

“Exactly. Now, who can give an example of when you should
not
call an ambulance?”

“When you spill milk,” one of the girls says.

They correctly roll through several other examples, leaving me satisfied they understand the concept. I pull my smart phone out of my dress pocket. This morning when I turned it on it was blissfully silent, no calls from reporters but a mailbox full of messages.

“Most of you don’t have cell phones but don’t forget that this is your best friend in case of an emergency.” Ten heads nod at me, and I place the device on the child-size table next to where the kids sit on the carpet.

“Who is my first volunteer to read to the group?”

Two hands shoot into the air, waving back and forth. “Go ahead and pick a book, Toby. Take a seat in the chair.”

Toby stands and I direct him toward a row of books to pick one. My back is to the entryway of the children’s room when the stranger enters. It wouldn’t cross my mind that someone unwelcome would come to the library. After all, it’s a public place.

“Miss Zoe, who’s that?” Duke asks curiously.

This is the exact moment I realize how much my senses have dulled since moving to New Point. There’s no tremor when I turn around, no urgency to whirl around to greet the visitor. No, I lazily peer over my shoulder.

Stupid.

My heart leaps into my throat while I simultaneously feel like someone punched me in the gut. If it weren’t for the children surrounding me, my consuming terror could send me crumbling into a heap on the floor.

No.

Today no one will see my terror.

I want to scream at him, grab him by the shoulders and demand to know what in the world would bring him back into my life. I can’t scare the kids, or myself, by doing that. Instead, I keep my voice even, almost light.

“You got rid of the hair,” I tell Clinton Smith. At some point he shaved off his scraggly blond hair revealing a smooth, shiny bald head.

“You lost weight.”

Fifteen pounds fell off me when I couldn’t eat for weeks after what you did.
That’s what I want to say. But I refrain.

I allow myself less than thirty seconds to take stock of my worst nightmare realized. The lack of hair doesn’t distract from his brilliant sapphire eyes. Crow’s feet crinkle around the edges, and the slits are narrowed. Like it’s a uniform, he’s wearing the same thing as last time; well-worn jeans, a black tee, and workman boots.

Pulling from strength I hardly knew was there, I fall into tactical mode. Even though there’s fear simmering underneath my skin making my entire body prickle, my mind stays sharp.

Mentally, I know what to do. Physically, I’m
this close
to a panic attack.

“Can we have this conversation upstairs, Clinton?” I don’t want to make any demands. Who knows if he has a gun on him. There’s no time to wonder about anything other than getting him away from this room.

He nods once. “You know my name this time.”

This is not a game!
My shoulders tense and I want to strike him, smack him across the face with all of the force in my body.

I force a pleasant, soothing smile when I turn back to my kids. “Toby, could you please read to everyone else? I need to help this man do some research because I am the only librarian on staff today.”

Somehow my voice doesn’t waver, though my thoughts are frantic, considering every possible scenario to keep them safe, anything to protect them.

Get him out of here. Get him
out.

“How long will it take? What should we do if you don’t come back?” Duke asks. I swear there’s a twinge of fear behind his eyes. The little boy, normally full of innocent curiosity, watches me worriedly.

“If I’m not back down by the time Toby is finished with his book, will you please read the next one?”

God, I want to hug him. Pull him into my arms and whisper into his hair that his family owns a piece of my heart.

Don’t let this be the last time I see you.

Duke nods reluctantly. In a last ditch effort to convey a silent message, I meet his eyes. Then I flicker my gaze to my cell phone lying on the table. Back to Duke, back to the phone.

Could my lesson have been any more timely? I would laugh if I didn’t want to cry.

My eyes fall closed for a brief moment when I pass by Clinton. Has he showered recently? Foul body odor flitters off him in waves. That’s not what freaks me out, though. It’s the hard metal jamming into my back that makes me momentarily sag with complete horror.

How the hell did he get a gun again?

The walk upstairs is stiff and halting as he forcibly shoves me forward.

“Can we go outside?” I remember his fierce desire to be in control. “They don’t need to hear what we have to talk about.” Though, I haven’t a clue what’s on Clinton’s mind.

“Fine,” he grunts. The gun doesn’t stray from my body when I lead him to the back patio. Outside the weather is still perfect. Apparently, the soothing winds swirling around the shady trees didn’t get the memo that the most terrifying day of my life was making an encore today.

“What are you doing here?” His hand falls from my back and shoves the gun into his waistband. I’m able to escape a few steps away. I twirl to face him flexing my hands so they don’t ball into fists.

Now that my charges aren’t in immediate danger, I’m left with swelling fear churning inside of me.

“You fucking lied to me,
Zoe Baker
.” He spits my name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth causing me to jump. I can’t help the flinches, every time he moves I fear he’s going to use his weapon.

Don’t, don’t, don’t,
I silent chant.
Don’t do this.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He strides toward me, grabbing my shoulders in his long, thin fingers. “You said you wanted to kill yourself too; you said you knew what it was like to be an outcast in your family. What a joke!” My heart pumps so furiously in my chest it could almost be seen through my dress. It feels like it could explode.

I’ve never been this scared in my life. Not the first time. This is worse. So much worse.

His blue eyes are filled with rage, the grip on my arms painfully tight. It reminds me I need to speak.

“It wasn’t a lie. My parents did die fifteen years ago.” I suck in a tremulous breath, trying to sooth the jagged bolts of fear racing through me. “But I would never kill myself. There’s a whole life to live, and I don’t want to give mine up.”

His eyes sparkle with fury. “Jesus, how fucking stupid do you think I am? There are TVs in the nut house. I saw your brother on SportsHour. Even if he wanted nothing to do with you, it wouldn’t matter because you are filthy rich. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?
Do you?
There’s
no one
who loves me. I’ve been in this damn psychiatric hospital for ten months. How many people do you think came to visit me? How many people do you think bothered to contact me?”

My sympathetic expression silently answers him, and he continues speaking furiously.

“Zero. If you were sick, that brother of yours would pay to get you better. If you were hurting, he would be by your side until you hurt no more. I don’t have that. I have
nothing.
You said I would be okay, but you lied. Once you got rid of me you never looked back to see if I was all right.”

I see it then. The last time we met there was a hint of hope in his eyes. But now the emotion in his expression burns violently. The human insecurity I found in him vanished. Hopelessness starts to grip me.
Will I make it out this time?