Push and Shove: The Ghost Bird Series: #6 (The Academy) (42 page)

“Nathan wants us to get an apartment near where Silas lives.”

Mr. Blackbourne shook his head. “We’re not prepared for it. There’s no way you two could afford an apartment together without working way more than you should, even at the diner. Neither of you can drop out of school right now. He’s under Academy obligation and if you drop out, the state
will
look at you more closely. Working around school hours right now would be impossible. You’re already wearing yourself out.”

I bit my lip, turning the tomato over with my fork, rolling it around in my plate. He was right. When he put it like that, I realized how impossible it was. Nathan was obligated under an Academy request to work undercover at Ashley Waters and neither one of us could afford an apartment on part-time incomes and keep up with everything. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” I said in a small voice.

I felt the steel in his stare, even as I focused on my salad. A silence fell. I couldn’t imagine anything he could say. I couldn’t move out on my own without getting a full-time job and I couldn’t do that if I needed to stay in school. I wasn’t safe at home, even without my mother there to punish me like she used to. I was stuck.

I caught movement from the corner of my eye on the driving range and turned to focus. Mr. Hendricks was walking out with a set of clubs slung over his shoulder. Another man followed beside him. They set themselves up, dropping golf balls onto the mats at their feet. Other golfers stood next to them, but the mats next to them were vacant. They were close enough that I could see what they were doing, but too far away to catch any facial expressions or too many details.

Mr. Hendricks wasted no time and started swinging at balls, hitting them down the range. The man next to him started talking.

“What’s going on?” I asked Mr. Blackbourne. It was my turn to stare over his shoulder. Why didn’t he warn me they were heading out?

“They’ve been talking about golf all throughout lunch,” Mr. Blackbourne said.

“Is this a waste of time?” I asked. “If all they talk about is golf—”

“The man with him is Superintendent Crowley,” he said. “Take a good look at him.”

I focused, noting the dark curly hair surrounding a bald spot that was forming on the back of the head. When he turned his face to address Mr. Hendricks, I caught a large hook nose on his otherwise average face. “So he’s Mr. Hendricks’s boss?”

“Yes,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “They work together. So how is it they’re spending an afternoon with each other and work hasn’t popped up once during their discussions? The superintendent didn’t even ask him how the school was doing. Not a word.”

I didn’t have an answer for that, but kept my eyes on the two men now. Mr. Hendricks had stepped up, smacking several balls downrange. Mr. Crowley talked. He only paused when the ball sailed out. When the ball landed on the green, Mr. Crowley turned back to Mr. Hendricks and he started talking again. “Are they talking about golf, now?”

“He’s telling Mr. Hendricks how to perfect his swing.”

I stared hard at the back of Mr. Hendricks’s head and tried to focus. “His ears are turning red. Either he’s getting warmed up or he’s irritated.”

I caught the flicker of the corner of Mr. Blackbourne’s mouth rising just a millimeter. “He hasn’t said anything for thirty minutes. I don’t think he’s very happy with Mr. Crowley’s company.”

I watched Mr. Hendricks swinging at the golf balls. If Mr. Crowley was telling him how to perfect his swing, Mr. Hendricks was completely ignoring it. He stood the same way every time. The ball flew in almost the same direction and landed about the same distance. “Is golf supposed to be fun? Or relaxing?”

“It depends on the person,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “For some people, it’s light competition. It’s popular for business colleagues. Lots of business deals are conducted on a golf course.”

I broke my gaze from Mr. Hendricks and the superintendent, focusing on the other players. There was a woman not too far from them who was alone, and hit the ball at different angles down the range. She was pretty, wearing a short sporty skirt and a slim fitting polo shirt. Behind her were more men lined up along the driving range. Small groups talked amongst themselves. Some weren’t hitting golf balls at all. They simply stood with water bottles or cups in their hands, staring off at the greens. On occasion they watched the woman. They chattered. They smiled. They nudged each other’s arms.

Compared to Mr. Hendricks and the superintendent, they all seemed to be enjoying the day. Mr. Crowley’s focus was solely on Mr. Hendricks. Mr. Hendricks focused on hitting balls. Neither of them looked at the pretty lady.

“They’re forcing themselves to be together on a work day, doing something neither appears really interested in.” I waited for the puzzle pieces to fit together. “They’re doing it for show?”

“Possibly,” Mr. Blackbourne said. He brushed my knee with a fingertip to draw my attention. “You should eat. They won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

I backed up my head and refocused my gaze on Mr. Blackbourne. His steel eyes met mine. I felt the answer as if he’d spoken it. “This is their alibi. Something is happening somewhere else and they’re making sure they are seen in a different location.”

“Eat,” Mr. Blackbourne said, command in his voice.

I picked up my fork again, but refocused on Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Crowley. I ate slowly, not used to doing it when I needed to think. If Mr. Hendricks wanted to be seen outside of school, it meant he could go alone to this country club, or anywhere else, and eat lunch and play golf and be seen. Did they have to be together?

But since they were together awkwardly, and seemed to be specifically avoiding talking about school, it meant they might be in on whatever was going on.

And there was a third party involved, because if both of them were here, it meant someone else had to be doing the thing they were trying to avoid. Part of me wondered if it was Mr. McCoy, but then if it was, why did Mr. Hendricks continue to ask me where he was? He was pretty convincing that he had no idea where Mr. McCoy was.

No, I got the feeling there was someone else. This third party that was doing something at this very moment that required Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Crowley to be away from school grounds.

It was after a half hour of me picking at my salad, after Mr. Blackbourne had long finished his steak, when Mr. Hendricks finally slid his golf club into the bag. Mr. Crowley lifted his own bag, having not used it, and turned to follow Mr. Hendricks.

My heart stopped when I realized they were heading for the same balcony we were sitting on. In one moment, I thought maybe there was a door elsewhere, like the one they had come from, that would take them inside. I shifted slightly to get a better view and realized with a panic that there was a stone staircase that led up to the balcony.

I started to turn, when I felt Mr. Blackbourne’s hand gently touching my elbow. He leaned in.

“Slowly, Miss Sorenson,” he said. “Slide a little to the left.”

I turned my chair slightly, so my view was of the other gentlemen on the driving range, and my back was to the stairs and the approaching principal and superintendent.

Mr. Blackbourne waited a full minute before he pushed his plate away and slid his chair closer to mine. “Forgive me,” he said quietly, and he slipped an arm across my shoulders. To anyone else, it probably looked like he’d adjusted just to be close to me and to watch the golfers.

My heart was racing. My nose caught a strong scent of spring soap. Mr. Blackbourne’s lean fingers curled around my shoulder. A forefinger found the collar of the shirt dress I was wearing. He absently traced it as he stared off at the golfers.

I caught a reflection of us in the windows of the dining room. Behind us, I could see Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Crowley sitting down together at one of the tables. I heard whispers from Mr. Blackbourne’s earpiece. This drew my attention to him in the reflection. Despite the new clothes, he still looked like perfect Mr. Blackbourne.

“Take your glasses off,” I said.

His arm around my shoulders stiffened. “Pardon?”

“You look different with your glasses off. If they start to pay attention to people around them, they may not recognize you if they’re off.”

Mr. Blackbourne released a slow breath. He waited a full minute again before he used his free hand to remove the glasses from his face. He folded them carefully, putting them in his coat pocket.

He was too close to me to take a direct look. What I did catch was his reflection in the glass. The steel eyes had softened. The angular face seemed to relax. He was still incredibly handsome, but the harshness of his pristine elegance had curbed.

The way he squinted as he concentrated made my heart flutter.

We sat in silence together. The lady golfer gave up, putting her clubs away and headed to a door and out of my view. Some golfers took up spots that had opened up and started driving golf balls down the green lawns.

When I did focus on the window to catch what was going on, I saw Mr. Crowley was still talking. Mr. Hendricks appeared to be listening. Mr. Hendricks did a sweep of the area, but seemed completely disinterested and it looked like he was tuning Mr. Crowley out.

Mr. Hendricks only seemed to come back out of his daze when he glanced down at his watch.

“What is he waiting for?” I asked in a hushed tone. They were out of earshot, but seeing their reflected faces, especially Mr. Hendricks’s, had me wanting to curl up and hide in the azalea bushes.

Mr. Blackbourne didn’t reply. The waitress came to take our plates and dropped off a ticket. Mr. Blackbourne signed his name and a number: B8427. She took the ticket, thanking him and left.

No cash? “Do we not pay?” I asked.

He shook his head. “They’ll send me a bill later.”

There must be a system to how these country clubs worked. I wondered about a tip. Would he add that in later, too?

The drone from the dining room seemed to settle. Lunch was over. The golfers in front of us thinned out and headed inside.

Mr. Hendricks took another look at his watch, and shifted in his chair. He said something to Mr. Crowley, who also stood. They turned toward the dining room doors.

At the angle they were going to walk, they’d move right past us. I sensed when Mr. Blackbourne realized it, too, as his hand on my shoulder squeezed harder than before.

“Stay still,” he whispered.

But from the reflection in the glass, there was no denying it. They’d walk right past our table. From a distance, they may not notice us at all. Up close, Mr. Hendricks was sure to recognize me. We needed to hide our faces.

I swallowed. I had an idea. If it were any of the other boys, I wouldn’t have hesitated. With Mr. Blackbourne, it was the wildest thing I’d ever dare do.

I leaned over, tugging slightly at Mr. Blackbourne’s sports coat. He seemed to get the idea that I wanted him to lean closer, too. When he was close enough, I tucked my face close to his, until we were almost cheek to cheek. I pushed my lips to his ear.

“Sorry, sorry,” I whispered, feeling like I had to do something. If we were pretending to whisper to each other, it would hide our faces pretty well.

My lips brushed his earlobe.

I felt the tiniest scratching of a fresh shaven face against the skin of my cheek.

His breath fell against the edge of my jawline, close to my neck.

It was impossible to hide the warm tremble that swept over me.

Mr. Blackbourne’s arm around my shoulder drew up, until his palm cupped the back of my head. It felt almost like he was drawing me in, until I realized his massaging fingers were spreading out my hair more, covering the side that Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Crowley would see.

I stayed as still as I could. “Sorry,” I whispered again. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Don’t be,” he said.

The next apology dissolved on my lips.

From my angle, I had no idea where anyone was. Mr. Blackbourne held me close for what felt like eons. I started to pull back, wondering if they had gone.

Mr. Blackbourne’s face tilted into mine, until his lips were brushing against my lobe. “One more minute.”

I wasn’t sure if I would last another minute. My mind had muddled. If we had to run, I wasn’t sure my legs would function. I was sure I was shaking.

“Are they gone?” I asked.

“They’re leaving,” he said. “Just making sure.”

I blew out a breath, but then realized I was breathing against his face. “So now we know Mr. Crowley is part of this? Did we do good?”

“Yes. Nice work,” he said. He dropped his hand from my hair and onto my shoulder, warming through the material of the polo dress. His lips moved close to the side of my face, until I felt his breath on my ear. “You’re still grounded.”

––––––––

B
y the time we got the Town Car back and were on our way, Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Crowley were long gone.

“We’ve lost them,” I said.

“Mr. Hendricks is likely to be back en route to the school. He left his briefcase in his office. This was meant to look like a long lunch meeting.”

“School is almost over.”

“Indeed,” he said. “Which is why we’re not following Mr. Hendricks.”

We weren’t following anyone, as far as I could tell. The others were well ahead of us. Though I imagined if Mr. Hendricks was going back to school, Mr. Crowley was probably going back to work, too. I made an assumption that we were going after him.

I sat back, feeling the smooth leather of the seat with my palms. Mr. Blackbourne hadn’t said anything about how close we had been at the country club, and he had me keep on the pink dress and wedge sandals. “What do we know about Mr. Crowley?”

“We’ve kept an eye on a few upper level officials within the school system. While the majority had approved the request to let our team into the school, not everyone was on board. Mr. Crowley didn’t reject the idea, but he wasn’t supportive, either. To be honest, he’s not the most active superintendent.”

“But we weren’t paying attention to him before?” I asked.