Suspect Witness. Ryshia Kennie
left.” Isaac waved his hand frantically in the air even as he spoke.
“On an errand,” Ian added.
“In your new car,” Isaac finished. He was fascinated by vehicles of any sort and had followed her into school last week pestering her with details of her new vehicle purchase and clearly unimpressed with what had impressed her; gas mileage.
“Right. I didn’t realize he was leaving this soon.” She pulled at the back of her cotton blouse, which was beginning to stick. She wiped the back of her hand across her damp brow as her eyes drifted to the parking lot and she thought of Daniel. Friend or not, she wasn’t apt to lend out her vehicle on a whim, but Daniel hadn’t asked. Instead, he’d planned to use public transport and lose over a half a day’s pay to attend a dental appointment. Knowing the pain the tooth was causing him and that he was too proud to ask for help, she’d offered him her car. Insisted, really.
“So, let’s begin.” She swept a hand to the blackboard. “Respect.”
The class of ten-and eleven-year-old boys in their fourth year of the six-year Malaysian primary school system should have been sweating and fidgeting. Instead, they now sat with backs straight, their eyes fixed on her.
“Anyone know what that means?” She placed her hands on the back of her chair. The sunlight seemed to shift and for a moment blinded her. She pushed the small crystal bowl to the front of her desk. The orchid and the bowl were a birthday gift from a group of teachers she’d had lunch with since she’d arrived. They’d presented the gift yesterday and even had sung a round of “Happy Birthday.” Except that her birthday wasn’t yesterday, nor was it this month. Her birthday was months past and a lifetime away.
“He’s a loser.” A boy stood up. His height and classic good looks belied his age.
The boy in question sat slouched over his desk, his untidy mop of black hair hanging forward and hiding his face from the class. She looked away and instead forced her gaze to the boy who had just spoken.
“Sit!” she snapped at Jefri. The boy was one of a small, tight-knit group who thought his family’s wealth placed him a tier above everyone else. “No one’s a loser.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flicker of motion. Something moved in the parking lot. She allowed her attention to divert momentarily. Her heart thumped.
“Miss Kelley?” Jefri’s voice was insistent and still had the high notes of childhood, despite the fact that at almost twelve, he stood tall enough to face her eye to eye.
“Just a minute.” She motioned the boy to sit down. Outside the heat rose in shimmering waves from the pavement as the shadow cast by the voluptuous canopy of an ancient rain tree fell short of cooling the overheated tar. In the parking lot, her new lemon-yellow Naza Sutera gleamed. Daniel hadn’t left yet.
Her hand curled on her desk, her nails biting into her palm. A familiar figure moved with an easy walk toward her car, and whatever or whoever had caught her attention previously was gone. She breathed out a sigh as she recognized the school custodian, Daniel.
She turned her attention back to the class as she pointed to the chalkboard. “Shall we read this together?”
“Give Respect. Get Respect,” the boys repeated, their childish voices rising solemnly to the occasion, some looking rather sullen, while others repeated dutifully as they did everything she asked.
“So, now we’ll discuss what that means. I want—”
A blast of light exploded outside with a roar that rattled the windows and knocked the remainder of her sentence into eternity, where it would remain forgotten. Somewhere outside the room someone screamed.
A door slammed.
“Stay where you are. Sit down, all of you. Now!”
She rushed to the window even as the children jumped from their seats.
Flames shot into the air, smoke billowed, obscuring the parking lot, the grass. “Oh, my God!” She took a stumbling step backward. Her body seemed to freeze in position.
“Miss Kelley?” a small voice questioned her.
“Did you see that?” someone else shouted.
The class, she’d almost forgotten... A boy pushed in beside her, fighting for window space.
Voices chattered in the hallway.
She needed to secure the room. Protect the children.
“Sit!” she repeated as she swung around. “Stay away from the door!” She grabbed the edge of the desk and yanked it in that direction. But already the door had flung open and children scattered into the hallway.
“They’re here,” she whispered.
Flames shot in the air as Josh closed the space between him and the fireball that had once been a vehicle. Black smoke billowed through the flames, and the smell of gas and burning metal filled the parking lot. And there was a hint of something else, the putrid sweet scent of burning flesh.
No.
He shielded his eyes from the intense glare and grimaced at the sight of the blackened hulk behind the wheel. He watched silently, aware of two things in that instant—that the corpse was too big to be her and that the outlaw biker gang, the Anarchists, had found her. He backed up and returned to the shelter of a canopy of pepper vines that fronted the edge of the school and provided a leafy shelter. He had no qualms about moving out of sight now that he knew the victim was beyond his help. His attention settled briefly on the burning vehicle. Chaos erupted from the building as children yelled and shrieked. The sharp commands of authority cut through the mass of voices as two female teachers attempted to control a mob of children. He hovered at the corner of the building, away from the main crush, out of sight of curious eyes.
He edged forward. The children milled excitedly, some cupping their hands over their eyes to get a better view. An older, gray-haired woman in a suit jacket and skirt was hurling orders and pointing inside. When one boy headed for the steps, she yanked him back by the collar of his navy blue school uniform. Josh’s gaze went to the other exit.
“Where are you?” He pushed the knit cap back from his forehead and glanced at the car and the fire that continued to burn bright and hot. He turned his attention back to the school and debated rounding the building and entering through the back. But that would serve no purpose. He was well aware that a face-to-face encounter, especially now, would have her running. He’d come too far to lose her.
“Come on,” he encouraged his absent quarry. He wondered how she’d managed to survive as long as she had. From what he could see she had only a rudimentary knowledge of the art of disappearing and a bucket of pure luck. That was about to change.
“Daniel!”
It was a woman’s voice, clear with a sweet edge despite the shock that so obviously laced through the words.
“There you are,” he said under his breath. She had changed her name, her nationality and her look, but he would know her anywhere. Her hair was now a pallid blond contained in an elegant updo that he recognized as an attempt to add years to her youthful face. But even at a distance he would recognize those eyes and those cheekbones. He’d studied that face for hours, memorized it as he did for every job. Except this time he had wanted to know so many other things, such as what her voice sounded like. Now he knew.
Her gaze seemed to fix on the scene. He inched closer.
A movement out of the corner of his eye had him turning, and as he did he saw that one of the children had broken from the cluster and was moving much too close to the vehicle.
“Damn it,” he swore. The flames were licking at the vehicle and there was no way of knowing if the gas tank had gone with the first explosion.