Part 11 (1/2)

Keely stared straight ahead, trembling from head to toe.

”Mrs. Weaver,” said the princ.i.p.al more gently. ”I'm not saying that I expect Dylan to do such a thing. I'm just trying to make sure that it never comes to that. That's why I'm recommending counseling. I would rather err on the side of caution.”

Keely nodded. ”I understand.” She felt numb.

”We've referred a number of parents to Dr. Evan Stover at theBlenheim Inst.i.tute. He deals almost exclusively with adolescents. He's very capable. Here's his card.”

”Thank you. I'll call him,” Keely promised. ”Where is Dylan now?”

”He went to the rest room.” Dr. Donahue glanced at her watch and frowned. She opened the door to the office and called in to her secretary. ”Wendy, did Dylan Bennett come back yet?”

The secretary shook her head. ”I didn't see him.”

The princ.i.p.al pursed her lips.

”What's the matter?” Keely asked.

”Nothing,” said Dr. Donahue. She spotted the boys' gym teacher, complete with clipboard and whistle, coming down the hall on squeaky, very white sneakers. ”Mr. Taylor,” she called out, ”can you help me?”

The coach jogged up to them. ”What can I do you for?”

”Check in the rest room for Dylan Bennett. He's been in there . . . for a while.”

The coach obediently walked around the corner and pushed open the door to the rest room.

”Was this fight about the article in the paper?” Keely asked after an awkward moment of silence.

Dr. Donahue did not pretend she didn't know what Keely was talking about. ”I think so,” she said, ”although there's been some ongoing hara.s.sment.”

”Dylan never said anything,” Keely cried.

”He probably figures you have enough to worry about,” said the princ.i.p.al.

”I worry about him, mainly,” Keely admitted.

”It's a difficult age.”

”Believe me, I know,” said Keely. ”I taught in a junior high.”

”So youdounderstand,” said Dr. Donahue.

”But Dylan is not a threat to anyone,” Keely insisted. ”I would know it if he were.”

”That's what every parent says, Mrs. Weaver,” the princ.i.p.al said wearily.

The gym teacher came back. ”He's not in there.”

”He's not?” asked the princ.i.p.al.

”Where is he?” Keely demanded.

The coach grimaced. ”He told a kid in there that he was leaving.”

”What do you mean, leaving?” Keely asked.

”Leaving the school,” said the coach, acknowledging, by the solemn look on his face, the seriousness of the infraction.

Keely looked in alarm at the princ.i.p.al. Dr. Donahue's expression was grim. ”He was told to come back immediately from the rest room. There was nothing ambiguous about my instructions.”

”Why would he leave?” Keely cried.

Dr. Donahue gazed at her with arched eyebrows. ”Defiance, I imagine. Showing us his temper. I can't tolerate this kind of behavior. He cannot just wander out of this school. We are responsible for him while he is here. You have to make him understand that, Mrs. Weaver. You are ultimately responsible-”

Keely heard the criticism, understood the princ.i.p.al's concerns, but she could think of only one thing. ”I've got to find him,” she said.

”Mrs. Weaver,” the princ.i.p.al snapped, but Keely did not stop. She ran out to the car and looked around. Where could he be? Which way would he go?

It was too far to walk home. He took the bus to and from school.She got into the SUV and turned on the ignition. So where else could he be? She began to troll the streets of the neighborhood, driving as slowly as possible. Luckily there were very few cars on the road; only one person honked at her and then pulled a vehicle out around hers. The sky began to darken as she drove, the beautiful autumn day turning dank and gloomy, and finally, raindrops began to spatter on her winds.h.i.+eld. She looked left and right, trying to catch a glimpse of that worn brown leather jacket. Unfortunately, the dried leaves on the trees made it hard to discern anything else of that color.

The intermittent raindrops turned into a steady drizzle as she squinted out at quiet houses; a church, its doors firmly locked; a school playground and a park, both deserted because of the rain.Dylan, where are you?she pleaded, as if she could reach him with her thoughts.Where did you get to?

She called Dr. Donahue on her cell phone, just to see if her son had returned, and was put through immediately. ”Perhaps we should call the police,” said the princ.i.p.al.

”No, no, don't,” Keely pleaded. She knew the princ.i.p.al was just covering herself, not wanting to be held responsible for losing one of the students while he was supposed to be in her charge. But Keely did not want Detective Stratton to get wind of this, to start on them again. Dylan was here somewhere, and she would find him. ”Let me look a little longer,” Keely said. As soon as she put the phone back, she was struck with the bitter irony of it. She should be the one calling in the cops, asking for their help. It was her son who was missing. But because of the way he had been treated, she was afraid to ask for help, afraid Dylan would only hide from them. It was all so unfair.

She pa.s.sed a sign for the parkway and thought maybe she should get on it and go back to their neighborhood. Perhaps he had hitchhiked-something he was forbidden to do, but then again, he was forbidden to just leave school, and that hadn't stopped him. The thought of his. .h.i.tchhiking made her blood run cold. She pictured some predator pulling a car up alongside her son, recognizing a golden opportunity.Oh please, G.o.d, no. No.She drove slowly toward the parkway ramp, not wanting to leave the neighborhood of the school but not knowing where else to look in the area. She hesitated as she approached the entrance and looked back. Then, under the parkway bridge that loomed over the quiet street, she saw a movement against the cement pillars. She squinted through the rain-streaked window beside her, then rolled it down, letting the rain pelt her in the face. There was a figure huddled against the cold concrete. It looked like a homeless person, desolate and defeated. She looked closer and saw a shaved head, the leather jacket.

Dylan,she thought, her heart leaping. She almost cried out his name, but then caught herself. What if he saw her and began to run? She pulled the SUV up on the shoulder of the road and got out. Rain ran down under her collar and into her eyes as she waited to cross over to him.

Under the bridge, he must have heard the car door slam, because he looked up. Their eyes met, and she felt her heart sicken at the blankness,the hopelessness in his expression. As he recognized her, his expression turned to one of irritation and he started to stand up.

Keely ran across the four lanes of the quiet road, and rushed over to him. She reached out her arms to him, but he turned his back on her.

”Dylan!” she cried, ”I've been worried sick.”

”I'm fine,” he said. ”What are you doing here?”

”I'm looking for you. What else would I be doing? I went over to seeDr. Donahue, and the gym teacher said you had left the school.”

He shrugged with apparent disinterest. ”No reason to stay. I'm sure they told you I got suspended.”

Keely s.h.i.+vered and wiped the wet tendrils of hair out of her eyes.”Honey, what happened? Dr. Donahue said you were in a fight.”

”There was a fight in the cafeteria. No big deal,” he said. ”Except, of course, that I was the one who got blamed.”

”Did you start it?” she asked, trying to touch his arm, but he jerked it away.