“I dropped her off there.”
“That’s not possible.”
Myron sighed and crossed his legs. “There are two ways to play this, Mr. D. I can get the principal in here or you can tell me what you know.”
Silence.
“Why were you talking to Randy Wolf this morning?”
“He’s also a student of mine.”
“Is or was?”
“Is. I teach sophomores, juniors, and seniors.”
“I understand that the students here have voted you Teacher of the Year the past four years.”
He said nothing.
Myron said, “I went here.”
“Yes, I know.” There was a small smile on his lips. “It would be hard to miss the lingering presence of the legendary Myron Bolitar.”
“My point is, I know what an accomplishment winning Teacher of the Year is. To be that popular with your students.”
Davis liked the compliment. “Did you have a favorite teacher?” he asked.
“Mrs. Friedman. Modern European History.”
“She was here when I started.” He smiled. “I really liked her.”
“That’s sweet, Mr. D, really, but there’s a girl missing.”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“Yeah, you do.”
Harry Davis looked down.
“Mr. D?”
He didn’t look up.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s all coming apart now. All of it. You know that, I think. Your life was one thing before we had this chat. It’s another thing now. I don’t want to sound melodramatic, but I won’t let go until I find out everything. No matter how bad it is. No matter how many people are hurt.”
“I don’t know anything,” he said. “Aimee has never been to my house.”
If asked right then, Myron would have said that he wasn’t all that mad. In hindsight, that was the problem: a lack of warning. He had been talking in a measured voice. The threat had been there, sure, but it wasn’t even worth checking. If he had felt it coming, he would have been able to prepare himself. But the fury just flooded in, snapping him into action.
Myron moved fast. He grabbed Davis from behind the neck, squeezed the pressure points near the base of the shoulders, and pulled him toward the window. Davis let out a little cry as Myron pushed his face hard against the one-way glass.
“Look out there, Mr. D.”
In the waiting area Claire sat upright. Her eyes were closed. She thought that no one was watching. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Myron pushed harder.
“Ow!”
“You see that, Mr. D?”
“Let go of me!”
Damn. The fury spread, diffused. Reason bled back in. As with Jake Wolf, Myron scolded his loss of temper and released his grip. Davis stood back and rubbed the back of his neck. His face was scarlet now.
“You come anywhere near me,” Davis said, “and I’ll sue you. Do you understand?”
Myron shook his head.
“What?”
“You’re done, Mr. D. You just don’t know it yet.”
CHAPTER 38
Drew Van Dyne headed back to Livingston High School.
How the hell had Myron Bolitar connected him to this mess? He was in full panic mode now. He had assumed that Harry Davis, Mr. Friggin’ Dedicated Teacher, wouldn’t say anything. That would have been better, would have left Van Dyne to handle whatever arose. But now, somehow, Bolitar had ended up at Planet Music. He had been asking about Aimee.
Someone had talked.
As he pulled up to the school, he saw Harry Davis burst out the door. Drew Van Dyne was no student of body language, but man, Davis did not look like himself. His fists were clenched, his shoulders slumped, his feet in a fast shuffle mode. Usually he walked with a smile and a wave, sometimes even whistling. Not today.
Van Dyne drove through the lot, pulling the car into Davis’s path. Davis saw him and veered to the right.
“Mr. D?”
“Leave me alone.”
“You and me, we need to have a little chat.”
Van Dyne was out of the car. Davis kept moving.
“You know what will happen if you talk to Bolitar, don’t you?”
“I haven’t talked,” Davis said, teeth clenched.
“Will you?”
“Get in your car, Drew. Leave me the hell alone.”
Drew Van Dyne shook his head. “Remember, Mr. D. You got a lot to lose here.”
“As you keep pointing out.”
“More than any of us.”
“No.” Davis had reached his car. He slid into the front seat and before he closed his door he said, “Aimee has the most to lose, wouldn’t you say?”
That made Van Dyne pause. He tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”
“Think about it,” Davis said.
He closed the door and drove off. Drew Van Dyne took a deep breath and moved back to his car. Aimee had the most to lose. . . . It got him thinking. He started up the engine and began to pull out when he noticed the school’s side door open again.
Aimee’s mother came out the very same door that beloved educator Harry Davis had stormed out just minutes ago. And behind her was Myron Bolitar.
The voice on the phone, the one that had warned him earlier: Don’t do anything stupid. It’s under control.
It didn’t feel under control. It didn’t feel that way at all.
Drew Van Dyne reached for the car radio as though he were underwater and it held oxygen. The CD feature was on, the latest from Cold-play. He drove away, letting Chris Martin’s gentle voice work on him.
The panic would not leave.
This, he knew, was where he usually made the wrong decision. This is where he usually messed up big-time. He knew that. He knew that he should just back up, think it through. But that was how he lived his life. It was like a car wreck in slow motion. You see what you’re heading for. You know there is going to be an ugly collision. You can’t stop or get out of the way.
You’re powerless.
In the end, Drew Van Dyne made the phone call.
“Hello?”
“We may have a problem,” Van Dyne said.
On other end of the phone, Drew Van Dyne heard Big Jake Wolf sigh.
“Tell me,” Big Jake said.
Myron dropped Claire off before heading to the Livingston Mall. He hoped to find Drew Van Dyne at Planet Music. No luck. The poncho kid wouldn’t talk this time, but Sally Ann said that she’d seen Drew Van Dyne arrive, talk briefly to the poncho kid, and then sprint out. Myron had Van Dyne’s home number. He tried it, but there was no answer.