“Look, don’t go expecting a lot to come of this,” he warned.
“Oh, but I do. I think it should be referred to the DEA,” Sofia replied. The skeptical twist to his mouth riled her. “Is there a specific number of deaths required before you take this seriously? I’d have thought one would be enough.”
“I can tell you what my superiors will tell me: ‘kids lace stuff into their weed all the time to try to get a better high.’ Ms. Popov, it isn’t that unusual. With how long you’ve been teaching in a high school, you must know that. I believe you think you’re seeing a pattern, but you only actually have that one sample you’ve tested. The other cases may just be a coincidence—not a sign of anything bigger going on.”
“In other words, you think I should find a new hobby to use up some of the free time I must have on my hands?” she snapped.
“Hey, I never said that,” Estrada denied.
About to reply, Sofia found she didn’t have the strength to go through it all again. Eyes narrowed, she stood, and Estrada opened the door for her. In the doorway, Sofia looked back at the table where her papers lay. “You have my statement, and I’ve left you my evidence. You have my contact details to let me know what steps are being taken.”
“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I promise I’ll talk it over with my partner and the Inspector and see if it goes anywhere.”
There was an admin staff member waiting in the corridor. He rushed in, almost knocking into Sofia as she exited. “Excuse me,” Sofia said pointedly.
“Sorry,” the guy mumbled. “In a hurry.”
“Whoa. You’ve gotta be the keenest file clerk in the station,” Estrada commented.
Sofia caught the man saying something about “Need to make a case folder,” as she left. With nothing more to do here, she went back to school, taking her irritation with her.
* * *
She made it back in good time before the class filed in, and later, Sofia had never been so glad to see the end of the final period as she was that day. She’d tried to keep her bad mood out of the classroom but caught a couple of whispered comments as her seniors filed out.
“What happened to the cool teacher?” one muttered, loud enough for her to hear.
As faculty and staff nicknames went, hers wasn’t a bad one to have. Unlike some teachers, she didn’t crack down hard on discipline, nor did she try to be buddy-buddy with them. She treated them with respect and demanded the same in return, and it seemed that they appreciated that.
“What happened is I’m exasperated,” Sofia murmured to the empty room. Doing her usual sweep for forgotten notebooks and pens, sweatshirts and jackets had her tsking more than usual. Logging today’s interview with the police into the running report she was keeping on the situation, and locking her notes and results away after that irritated her further.
“Ready to go?” Kim was waiting to walk her to the parking lot, something else that ticked her off. She was used to standing on her own two feet, which did not include being escorted to her car by male staff or faculty members…but she couldn’t deny she was grateful for the small team who’d banded together for escort duty, as they’d called it, since the vandalism.
“I told you I have a dashboard camera, didn’t I? So I really don’t need a guard,” she reminded Kim, wanting to assert her independence.
“And deny me my chivalrous good deed?” He feigned being hurt, and she had to smile.
He waited until she’d driven off in her loaner car, and Sofia forced herself not to keep peering behind her for cars that drove too close to hers. She did take a different route home, though. She varied it a little every day now, all the time telling herself she was paranoid.
Her mood plummeted even further at home, with the pile of grading she had to do. It was late when she finished, and she was too tired to even think about getting to the last item on her list. She’d made a promise to herself to try to pick up her art again, hoping that painting could keep her mind off of the stress. When had she started that watercolor? She felt like she hadn’t touched a paintbrush in ages. She opted for Netflix instead, after which she hoped a long soak in the tub would ease her mind.
She lay in the water listening to music, caressing her stomach and thinking about the life growing inside of her. She made it to bed early, but soon grew frustrated when her body refused to nod off. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately and tonight was no exception. It took her a good long while to drift off, and it felt she’d only just gotten to sleep when her alarm went off.
No, not her alarm, her phone. Ringing at… “Two in the morning!” she groaned. She turned the phone over, not intending to answer, because who called at two a.m.?
Wait.Her sleepy brain jerked itself awake. People didn’t call at two in the morning unless it was serious. She grabbed for her phone. Number withheld.
“Hello?” she answered, sitting up and clearing her throat. Silence greeted her. “Look, you called me. You got something to say, say it, okay?”
“Get out of the house right now.”
“What?” Sofia must have misheard the gruff, obviously disguised voice.
“Get out of the house before it’s too late,” the voice said, and the buzzing told her he—the voice was definitely male, even if it was unidentifiable—had cut the connection before she could demand to know if this was some sort of prank.
If it was, she wasn’t laughing. Far from it. On the contrary, she was confused, and a little scared. She swung her feet to the floor, frowning, trying to think. Trying to listen for the sound of anything off or out of place—anything that would actually require her to leave. She couldn’t hear anything, but things felt wrong. She shoved her feet into her slippers and her arms into her dressing gown, then tied it around her and jammed her phone into the pocket.
She dashed to the door, intending to push it open and check the house, but when she touched the doorknob, she drew her hand back at once, a gasp on her lips.
The doorknob was hot.
Her house was on fire. And she was trapped in her room.