Dr. Blackman's thin face became beet red. She noted his trembling hands just before he shoved them in his pockets. "Dr. Marshall, I don't think you fully appreciate the severity of this suspension, to both Rudy and the team."

Oh, for God's sake, she thought, feeling the surface of her skin begin to tingle. "What I appreciate is my responsibility to ensure Mr. Lutz's son gets an education." She turned to Lutz, then felt a spurt of alarm at the cold expression in his eyes. She pushed the alarm away, focusing on the boy, on his future. "I hope you agree that your son's education is more important at this stage of his life than his extracurricular activities."

Lutz's square jaw tightened. He deliberately removed his hat, revealing well-tended dark hair, with the hint of silver at his temples. A distinguished thug, Jenna thought, fighting the shrill warning bells going off in her head. His eyes ran the length of her. His expression was one of cultured disdain, of blatant sexual disrespect. It made Jenna feel as if she were wearing a thong bikini instead of the tailored suit that came modestly to her knees. Again she waited for Blackman to intervene. Again she waited in vain.

Lutz took a step forward and smiled. Chills ran up and down Jenna's arms. It was not a pleasant smile. This was intimidation, in its purest form.

Jenna cleared her throat. "You do agree, don't you, Mr. Lutz?" she asked pleasantly.

Lutz smiled again, a mere banng of teeth. "Miss Marshall-"

"Dr. Marshall," Jenna corrected with a brittle smile. A muscle quivered in his cheek.

"Miss Marshall," he repeated from behind gritted teeth and Jenna lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

"Now I see where your son has learned such impressive disrespect," she murmured, not breaking her gaze. Mr. Thug would look away first, because she sure as hell wasn't going to.

Lutz took a step closer, the toes of his black wing tips even with her open-toed sandals. Now she was looking straight up as Lutz had a good five inches on her, even in her heels. "You don't seem to understand who I am, Miss Marshall. I could buy and sell the school like this." He snapped his fingers next to her ear and Jenna managed not to flinch. "I could have you fired like this." He snapped his fingers again, his hand closer this time. "You have caused me a great deal of inconvenience, Miss Marshall. I was conducting an important business meeting in Boston when my son called to tell me he'd been suspended from the team. I had to leave my business unfinished to fly home and reassure my wife that the scout her father arranged to see our son play would indeed see Rudy play."

"The scout will not see him play today." Jenna met his anger with what she hoped was cool firmness, because her heart was knocking like an unbalanced piston. "The scout can see your son play as soon as he brings up his grade in my class." She stepped back and drew a breath. Decided to be the only grown-up in the room. Grace under pressure, her father used to say.

"You may be able to buy and sell this school, Mr. Lutz, but you can't buy and sell me. If money were important to me, I can assure you I wouldn't be here. I am here, however, and I'm here to see children learn. I can't do that without parental support. If we can't find a way to work together for Rudy's benefit, then you'll get the opportunity to attempt to intimidate Rudy's next remedial science teacher next year, when he repeats the class. Good day, sir." Jenna turned and found Dr. Blackman's face pale, mottled with red splotches of rage. She inclined her head, fighting the urge to smack him. "And thank you for your support, Dr. Blackman."

Shouldering her briefcase, Jenna walked out of the office and let the trembles take over.

Friday, September 30, 4:20 P.M.

"Dammit," Steven muttered, approaching the front of Brad's high school at a fast jog. He was late for his meeting with Dr. Marshall by twenty minutes. He was lucky she'd agreed to stay at all on a Friday afternoon. That she'd stand around waiting for him was a virtual impossibility. If only he hadn't stopped by the Egglestons' house on his way from Pineville. No, he thought, taking the steps in three giant leaps, that had been the right thing to do. Samantha's parents needed to know he was working to find their daughter. They needed the consideration of human contact when he asked if they knew anyone with a propensity to mutilate animals. They'd needed his quiet strength when they fell apart, clinging to each other while silent sobs shook them until Steven wasn't sure they were even aware of his presence anymore. Seeing the Egglestons had been the right thing to do.

But now he was late for an appointment critical to his own son's life. Dammit Someday he'd find a way to juggle it all. Yeah, right.

Steven searched the school lobby, but no one resembling a chemistry teacher waited. She'd probably gone home. Steven sighed, feeling the weariness of the day overtake him. He'd have to call Dr. Marshall on Monday and reschedule. And in the meantime worry himself senseless over what she would have told him about Brad, although Steven wasn't certain it was possible to worry any more than he already was. He knew better than most parents what kids could get involved in these days. He knew better than most how dangerous it was. Too bad his knowledge hadn't saved Brad from whatever had changed his boy to a sullen stranger in four short weeks.

"Couldn't she have waited a lousy twenty minutes?" he muttered, and made his way to the office to leave her a message for Monday, simultaneously turning his body to scan the lobby, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He'd walked a grand total of three steps backward when he slammed into something that cried out and fell to the tiled floor like a brick.

Years of habit had him reaching for his weapon even as he spun around and looked down to find a woman sprawled on the floor, her face hidden behind a curtain of shiny black hair, her lavender skirt hiked high on her thighs, exposing the top edge of silk stockings, the bottom edge of an honest-to-good-ness garter, and a set of legs that seemed to go on forever. He heard the hiss of his own indrawn breath, felt his heart thump hard, his fists clench, felt every drop of blood drain from his head.

Oh, my God, was all he could think. Oh, my God.

Then she looked up and pushed her long hair from her face with both hands, revealing dark blue eyes that snapped with fury and full red lips that frowned with authority. Twin flags of color stained high cheekbones. Mesmerized, he could only stare.

Until she opened her mouth. "You incompetent idiot."

Steven blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Excuse me?"

In response she rolled her eyes and blew out an explosive sigh, throwing one arm wide. "Just look at what you've done."

Steven's eyes looked around the school lobby, seeing at least a hundred papers strewn across the lobby floor, her soft leather briefcase turned on its side. Lipstick and pens and keys had dumped out of her purse. Then he saw her massage her ankle and her face tightened, her eyes sliding shut as dismay gave way to pain.

He dropped to one knee. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't see you."

"You weren't looking," she snapped back, her lips quickly returning to a firm line.

"No. No, I wasn't." He laid his fingertips against her ankle and her eyes flew open, alarm mixing with the pain. Quickly he pulled his hand back.