Katy Lee - Warning Signs

Mother always said they were figments of a child’s imagination. Except children weren’t supposed to be imagining such horrifying things.

No, I can’t go there. She swam faster, pushed harder. Her hands sliced through the water, propelling her forward. Miriam had a feeling if she continued to delve deeper into that nightmare, she would never emerge. Not even the dark-haired rescuer she left in her wake would be able to save her from the dangers of that dark and menacing grave.

TWO

“You really think the principal is your number-one suspect?” Owen waited with Sheriff Wesley Grant outside the high school’s glass entrance doors. The buzzer signaled their authorization for admittance, and Wes pulled the door open.

“Her assistant’s got a prior arrest for possession of marijuana,” Wes discreetly informed Owen over his shoulder as they entered the school. “They neglected to share that little tidbit with the school board and don’t know I uncovered it. I’m keeping it to myself until I have enough evidence for a search warrant of their homes.”

“You seem to be putting all your efforts on these two. What is it about them you don’t like?” Owen eyed a well-dressed man at the end of the corridor sweeping the shiny floors with an oversize dust mop.

“You’ll see why when you meet them,” Wes answered. “I feel like Ms. Hunter’s constantly laughing at me. I’m a big joke to her.” He sneered.

“Well, you are funny-looking.” Owen jutted a chin at Wes’s head. “And you need a haircut, man. Have I been gone from Maine so long that the ladies dig the unkempt look now? Perhaps your principal is one of them. Maybe she isn’t laughing at you at all. Maybe she’s sweet on you. How old is she? Fiftyish?”

The green-clad sheriff chuckled. “Not quite.” Wes pointed to a door off to their left. He cleared his throat a few times. “So, you haven’t mentioned Cole since you arrived yesterday. How is your son?”

Owen’s back tensed. “He’s still living with Rebecca’s parents over in Bangor. It’s best that way. So, how do you think the drugs are getting here? This island’s pretty secluded.”

Wes nodded, taking Owen’s cue. No more talk about Cole. “My guess is Ms. Hunter and her assistant have a connection with a Canadian drug cartel. They’re helping to get the marijuana across the border by coming through my island. Then distributing it to their dealers on the mainland.”

“But some marijuana was found on school property. Why release it and take the chance of shutting down their operation?”

“Well, that’s where you come in. I need your, um, eyes to listen in on a few conversations.”

“You need my eyes to listen? I don’t understand.”

The men reached the principal’s office and entered. “Hey, Steph,” Wes said to the cute, pixie-like secretary at her desk. “I’m here to see Ms. Hunter.”

“Yup, she’s expecting you.” Steph lifted a slender arm rimmed with gold clinking bracelets and pointed toward the door. “She told me to tell you to go on in.”

“Thanks, darling.” Wes flashed a smile Owen thought might send the dark-haired girl into a tizzy the way she bloomed into the same shade of red as the netted lobster hanging on the wall behind her. Too bad for the girl if she thought Wes’s flirtations meant anything.

Wes had cut women out of his life the day his fiancée ran off with another man. But unlike Wes, Owen had lost his girl by his own hand.

Twice in two days memories of Rebecca caused his stomach muscles to twist in guilt. He let the feeling remind him to never forget. She was so young and beautiful, glowing with that new-mother look that made him fall in love with her every time he watched her snuggle their son or every time she reached for him, honoring him with her complete and total trust. His jaded heart would swell over her pure one. She was genuine and didn’t deserve to die.

But she had, and Owen had vowed to never ruin another pure heart again. Not another woman’s and not his own son’s. A solitary life would be his punishment.

“Uh, Owen,” Wes held the door handle to the principal’s office and spoke over his shoulder in a hushed voice. “There’s something you need to know.”

“What’s that?”

Wes cleared his throat again, putting Owen on the defensive. Suddenly, the door opened from the inside, yanking Wes’s hand along with it. Whatever Wes planned to say was cut off by a wiry-looking man, about five-eight, with blond hair and gold-rimmed glasses. Owen summed him up in two seconds as a nonthreat.

“Welcome back, Sheriff. We’ve been waiting for you.” The man swept a scrawny arm wide to invite them in, but his tight-lipped words implied they weren’t really welcome.

Owen extended a hand to the shorter man. “I’m Agent Matthews from the Drug Enforcement Agency.”

The man eyed Owen’s hand hanging in midair for an exaggerated second before placing his smaller, skinnier one into it. “Nick Danforth. I’m Ms. Hunter’s interpreter. Where she goes, I go.”

Interpreter? Did she not speak English? Owen thought Nick’s response odd, but he shrugged it off. “Nice to meet you.”

“Owen,” Wes called from the front of the desk. A woman stood beside him, her hair twisted up loosely at the back of her head. Her slate-gray eyes grew wide as he leveled his own gaze on her. Even without the golden-streaked red hair flowing down her back, he remembered her from yesterday out on the rock.

She was the school principal? And the number-one suspect? Could that really be true? A deaf principal in her early thirties didn’t strike him as the drug-smuggler type. Yet he supposed he’d seen all types in his line of work and knew he needed to treat everyone as a suspect.

“This is Ms. Hunter. She’s deaf,” Wes announced matter-of-factly.

Owen caught Nick signing to the principal. An interpreter for a deaf principal. Nick’s earlier response now computed. Nick shut the door behind them and sidled up beside Owen, ready to do his job.

Ms. Hunter raised her hands and signed, “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Matthews.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Agent Matthews,” Nick said from beside Owen, interpreting Ms. Hunter word for word. Only, neither of them knew Owen didn’t need an interpreter. He understood her signs fine.

Owen turned away from Nick for a pointed look at his so-called friend. He could tell by Wes’s prolonged stare and slight shake of his head that he wanted Owen to keep his sign language knowledge under wraps. A little heads-up would have been nice.

“I’ll explain later,” Wes said. “For now I would like you to get acquainted with Ms. Hunter and her staff so we can start the investigation.”

Then it clicked why Wes had brought him there. Owen would be able to spy on what was said between these two when they thought no one else understood. If they really were the smugglers, then Owen stood a chance of solving the case pretty quickly.

Owen fisted his hands at his side. “You, too, Ms. Hunter,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nick translate his words to sign language. Owen continued, “It’s my hope we can work together to get to the bottom of this problem on your island and in your school. I appreciate your help.”

She visibly relaxed and her lips quirked up at the edges as she signed, “I want that more than anything.”

“Grea—” Owen started and stopped, almost forgetting to wait for the interpretation. He deserved a swift kick for nearly giving himself away already.

“I hope you mean that,” Nick translated.

I hope you mean that? What? Owen tilted his head and tried to figure out what he’d done wrong. He thought for sure she’d said she wanted to work together more than anything. Maybe his skills were rusty for lack of use. God knows he rarely used them. Having Nick might be a good idea, Owen decided.