Page 41 of Forever Dead

Connor studied him with growing interest.

Arnold went on. “If somebody thought she ruined their life, hearing the whole town praise her for years might make the resentment worse.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Arnold’s expression barely changed, but Connor caught a trace of discomfort before he turned back to the monitor.

“You think?”

“Yeah. We shouldn’t assume affection was universal just because that’s what we’re hearing now.” Connor stood. “Keep on this Deacon thing, though. I don’t want him disappearing from our attention because we found a more interesting possibility.”

“Where are you going?”

“Miss Marsh’s old school. I’ll see if they’ve got records of any serious incidents involving her, and whether anybody there remembers someone who carried a grudge.”

Arnold nodded. “I’ll call county records.”

Connor headed for the door.

Behind him, Arnold said, “Sheriff?”

Connor turned.

“Maybe don’t tell them we think one of their former students murdered a teacher until we have more.”

Connor gave him a dry smile. “That part I’d worked out.”

*

Elmsview High had changed less than Connor expected.

The brick additions were newer, and a glass-fronted entrance had replaced the double metal doors he remembered, but the main building still sat on the same rise above the athletic field.

Connor parked near the administration building and got out.

A whistle sounded from the football field beyond the lot. Teenagers in helmets moved through a practice drill beneath a pale October sky. One broke from the line, cut left and caught a pass before two others closed on him.

Connor paused beside the SUV.

For one season, he had believed football might be the place he belonged. He had the size for it and more aggression than good sense. Coaches liked the first part and spent most of their time trying to control the second.

By the middle of the following season, Connor had fought two teammates, one opposing player, and nearly a coach.

A laugh escaped him.

He really had been a handful.

Football had never suited him anyway. Neither had the crowd around it. The parties, the school hierarchy, the expectation that playing well meant he was supposed to enjoy being noticed.

Deep down, Connor had always felt outside all of it.

Even surrounded by people, some part of him had remained a few steps away, watching everyone else understand rules he had somehow missed.

The whistle sounded again.

Connor turned toward the school.

Inside, the front office had been renovated into a wide reception area with security doors controlling access to the corridors. A woman behind the desk glanced up as he approached.