Kate Carlisle - The Lies That Bind

“Who’s Layla Fontaine?”

“She runs this place,” I said. “Her office is at the end of the hall. I think she must’ve gone home already.”

“What do you do here?” he asked, taking notes.

“I’m just one of the instructors.” I waved my hand toward Naomi. “This is Naomi Fontaine. She’s the facilities coordinator for the center.”

“But-but I didn’t do anything,” Naomi declared, her wide-eyed gaze whipping back and forth between Officer Ortiz and me. “I opened my office door and Minka was lying there, and Brooklyn was kneeling over her.”

I shot her a look. “They already know that.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Ortiz said calmly.

No, it wasn’t. Was Naomi deliberately trying to throw me under the bus? Whatever happened to me being the big hero, saving Minka’s life? You couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

“Where’s Layla?” Tom asked, looking around.

“She went home,” Cynthia said through clenched teeth. “Brooklyn just said that. Try to keep up.”

Someone was even crankier than I was.

The cop tending to Minka called from the hallway, “Can somebody turn on the hall light?”

“It’s not working,” Naomi explained to Ortiz.

He walked a few feet into the hall, stretched his arm up, and tested one of the exposed bulbs by twisting it. The hall filled with light.

“Now that’s weird,” Gina said, her eyes big and round.

Cynthia frowned in agreement.

Another blast of a siren announced the arrival of the ambulance. Two EMTs rushed through the gallery carrying their packs filled with equipment. I managed to corral the onlookers away from the hall to give the techs enough space to pass through.

Whitney walked over and joined us. “What’s going on? I thought I heard a siren. Are we on a break?”

Gina grabbed her arm. “Girl, where were you?”

“I was on the phone,” Whitney said defensively, then lowered her voice to add, “That skinny guy let me use one of those storage rooms down the hall so I’d have some privacy.”

Was she talking about Ned? I looked around the gallery, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Somebody was attacked while you were gone,” Gina whispered excitedly.

“We don’t know that,” I said quickly.

Officer Ortiz signaled me over. “We’ll need to get everyone in one place and start some interviews.”

“You can use my classroom,” I said, then turned to Gina and Whitney. “Can you help me lead everyone back to the classroom?”

“You bet,” Gina said. She gathered my people while Naomi assembled Minka’s students and led them back into their classroom. Within five minutes, the area was cleared.

“You should go wash your hands,” Alice murmured.

I scowled as I held out my hands. “I completely forgot.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

I smiled in gratitude. “No, thanks. I’ll be okay.”

In the small bathroom, I let hot water run over my hands. My stomach took another dip as the water turned pale red from Minka’s blood. I wasn’t sure what made me feel worse, the blood itself or the fact that it was Minka’s.

And wasn’t that a horribly uncharitable thought? Nevertheless, I used lots of soap and plenty of paper towels to clean and dry my hands completely, then tossed everything in the trash can.

And no, I didn’t consider that destroying evidence. I hadn’t done anything to Minka but save her life, sort of.

Back in the classroom, Officer Ortiz was trying to keep order.

“If anyone saw or heard anything,” he said, “I want to talk to you first.”

Everyone began speaking at once.

“Stop,” he barked. “Did anyone actually witness anything specifically related to the assault on Ms. LaBoeuf? Raise your hand if you did.”

I was impressed that he pronounced Minka’s name correctly, although I always preferred to hear her referred to as La Beef. I should’ve felt more remorse that Minka had been hurt, but I was almost giddy. Not in a happy way, but more of a shaking, freaking-out kind of way. Maybe I was in shock. I’m sure the fact that someone had been attacked a few short minutes before I walked down that hall would sink in later.

Since nobody in the room could offer any real help, Ortiz gave up and passed around a sheet of paper, asking everyone to write down their contact information.

As the students took turns complying with his request, I asked Ortiz where the ambulance would take Minka. He mentioned San Francisco General Hospital, barely a mile away.

Somehow, the name of the hospital made Minka’s injury sound even more life-threatening. “I don’t suppose she just fainted and hit her head.”

It sounded lame, even to me.

“She didn’t faint,” Ortiz said bluntly.

“Was she attacked?” Whitney asked.

“Are we all in danger?” Marianne asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Ortiz said. “Until we find out, I strongly suggest that you leave here in pairs or in groups. Don’t let anyone walk to their car alone.”

“Absolutely not,” I assured him.

“Is class canceled?” Dale asked.

I looked at Ortiz, who shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. We’ll be here for a while, asking questions and checking the premises.”

I glanced around. “Who wants to keep working?”

I was surprised to see everyone in the room raise their hands.

“I guess we’ll keep going,” I said.

On the drive home, I tried but failed to find some connection to all the strange events of that night. First, the Asian man had shouted and stormed out of Layla’s office, followed by Layla giving me grief over the provenance of the Oliver Twist .

Then Minka showed up and ruined my day. And shortly after I started my class, Layla came in to make nice and introduce Alice Fairchild. That’s when I saw the pathetic look of adoration on Tom Hardesty’s face. Apparently he had the hots for Layla, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his wife, if her expression of sheer contempt was any gauge.

Then there was the attack on Minka. Followed by Naomi’s lame attempt to blame me.

And damn it, why did I have to be the one to discover Minka? My shoulders shook with dread as I recalled her statement earlier in the evening.

“Wherever she goes, somebody dies.”

And sure enough… Okay, she didn’t die, but tonight’s attack was a little too close for comfort.

And that train of thought had to stop immediately. This was not my fault and I refused to feel guilty about it. And hey, Minka was a rude bitch for bringing it up in the first place.

Still, I wondered what this meant for Minka. How badly had she been injured? It couldn’t be a good sign that she hadn’t regained consciousness by the time the EMTs took her off to the hospital.

True, I didn’t like her. To be honest, I pretty much despised her. She’d been a thorn in my side since the day we met back in graduate school, where she developed an unhealthy crush on my boyfriend and tried to physically injure me badly enough that I would drop out of school. There were other weird and creepy happenings during that time. A dead cat on my porch. My tires slashed. I knew Minka was responsible, but she was never caught.

So as far as I was concerned, Minka was not a nice person. And yes, on occasion, I’d wished her ill.

But the “ill” I’d had in mind was something along the lines of a large potato bug crawling up her nose and laying eggs. I’d never wished for her to die or anything. Basically, I just wanted her to go away and leave me alone.

I turned off Seventh Street onto Brannan, then waited until the oncoming traffic cleared and the security gate in front of my building garage opened. I quickly turned in and parked my car.

I had less stuff to carry upstairs than I’d brought down with me. Naomi had given me a key to my classroom so I could leave some of my cheaper, less dangerous tools and supplies at BABA. I was determined to keep the more lethal and expensive ones in my possession at all times. Thanks to my recent misadventures in Scotland, I hesitated to leave hazardous tools in a place that might not be completely secure.