Locke 2 (Blackwater Boys #4)

Twenty-Four

Kali

M ost of my night was spent with Locke.

It was night three of no sleep, and my eye bags felt heavy, they were so bad. Whatever little shut eye I had was pointless. I woke up just as wrecked, feeling gutted that he was gone, and I had no choice but to carry out my routine which I was now starting to dislike. Locke broke the monotony I thought I craved. I had a feeling he would always do that.

The photo he showed me last night sat at the forefront of my mind, making me feel cold and clammy. I couldn’t even think straight. I barely engaged Hal on our walk and when we got to the coffee shop, I ordered an extra-large latte.

At first, I tried to gauge whether he’d heard anything last night, but he appeared rested and clueless. Plus, his room was down the hall, so I doubted he would have heard much if he was awake anyway.

“You okay?” he wondered, eyeing me like I had a second head.

I grunted, demolishing my cup in no time. That was all I seemed to do lately. Grunt like a caveman and respond in three words or less.

“Is it to do with the boy?” he asked.

My lips twisted. “Any word on him?”

He shook his head and ran a hand over his bearded cheeks. “No, but listen, Kari, the police don’t seem worried, so I wouldn’t be.”

I eyed him now, disappointed in his blase attitude about it. It was so easy for people like him to just move on and not wonder or want answers. So content with wanting to believe everything was okay, they didn’t need it confirmed.

Well, I did.

I may have given him a cold look because his shoulders seemed to shrink in on themselves. He buried his face in his coffee, and we walked in silence.

I was probably being unreasonable. It wasn’t his fault for thinking there was nothing wrong. Lenny was just a stranger to him. He hadn’t been up close and personal with him every day, so he wasn’t as close to the situation as I was. Plus, he didn’t know about the picture and the relevance it held. That damn picture nagged at the back of my mind, trying to awaken a memory I’d buried.

Trying to cheer him up, I asked about his nightly disappearances, and he perked up, talking about his workplace fling, though he wouldn’t let me know exactly who it was. It’d been going on for over a month now and I was no closer to finding out about this other guy or what he was up to when he was gone. No matter. I wouldn’t let him know I, too, was engaging in some twisted shit.

We all had our secrets.

The only difference was some of us had to erase our identities.

We branched off at his workplace and then I went on my way to the school. Arriving at the classroom, I noticed the door was ajar instead of fully opened. I paused, hearing quiet chatter. Was Patsy having a meeting with one of the teachers?

I inched closer and peered in.

A man’s back was to me, and Patsy was standing behind her desk, gaping up at the large man with horror in her eyes. Why did she look so disturbed?

This was definitely not a teacher. Mr Weedle was a brittle stick, and Mr Donovan, with his mega short stature, was often mistaken as one of the grade 8 children in his classroom. This man, on the other hand, was tall and broad.

Oh, my God, maybe he was a parent, and he was chewing her out for being so shit.

But then he turned away, and my breath caught in my throat. The man was familiar. Too familiar. Horror slammed into me this time as he opened the door and paused, glancing briefly down at me. He had a smirk on his face, his eyes bright.

His smirk deepened. “Hey, Kari ,” he said.

“Jem?” I whispered. “What are you…”

He walked off, leaving me shellshocked for a second. Why was Jem in the classroom talking to Patsy? Not good, not good. I watched him round the hallway and disappear. Then I inched into the classroom, staring straight at Patsy’s stiff body. She had a hand on her chest, like she was trying to calm her heart down.

“Patsy?”

Her eyes shot to mine, and where there had been horror before, now filled with darkness. “You.”

I blinked. “Yeah?”

“I should have known…” her words trailed off, filled with vehemence.

“Known what?” I carefully asked.

“You. Know. What.”

What in the hell was going on? I warily glanced at the door, quickly realising what was happening. “What did that man tell you, Patsy?”

“You know very well what he said,” she huffed, standing upright, like she was trying to assert her dominance. “I had no idea you consorted with such brutal hooligans.”

“Hooligans?” I repeated, astonished. “No, not at all.”

She was riled up, her face reddening. “Disguised as literature, Kari? That big of a fire? To do that to those helpless one-legged birds. You know I’m a bird watcher. You knew it from the start!”

I couldn’t even put together what she was saying I did, but I didn’t need to. I felt my shoulders slump, the all too familiar feeling of another shitfire ending at a job. “Let me guess…you’re going to try and get me fired?”

“You can fight it, but I have friends in high places who would empathise greatly with my bird sanctuary traumas. They were just one day away from full rehabilitation, Kari! The last of the rainbow tongued pink hoppers, no less! An extinctionist, too. I should have detected it.”

“I am none of those things.”

She huffed, sticking her hand out at me. “Save it, Kari. I’ve heard everything I need to know about you.”

“If you fire me, who’s going to clean the windows and do recess duty?” I challenged her. “No one was applying for this position.”

“Look at you, preying on the plights of an old elementary school teacher. I see the position has gone to your head. You feel more capable than me—”

“Not at all—”

“I will not depend on a bird arsonist to help me. I should have paid attention to the signs, but my heart was too big, too pure.”

I didn’t even bother to fight it. This all had to do with Locke. He was back to messing with my life. I didn’t like the jolt of excitement that very thought gave me. I ignored it as I trailed my eyes over Patsy as she huffed and puffed. She looked like a red potato.

I sighed and, as she prattled on about my genocidal agenda toward birds I’d never even heard of. I left her mid-speech. Heading to the office, I trudged down the hallway, telling myself that I hadn’t been in the position that long, so I wasn’t attached to it, but I would miss the kids.

I passed Kayla, the receptionist. Her stare felt particularly heavy. She watched me leave, and I could hear her fidgeting. Did she know I was an alleged bird arsonist? She was going to love this drama.

Here we go again, I told myself right before I left the school.