Suicide Club

Lindsey Sloan hesitated, her knuckles hovering just beneath the metal plaque on the door. David Campbell and then below the name in smaller letters, Principal. Although it was unusual for Dave to leave a message with the school secretary asking her to come to his office, Lindsey believed she knew what her boss wanted to talk about. Randolph-Lowen was for up for accreditation review this year. He probably wanted to ask her to head up the school committee. That wasn't something she wanted to do, but she knew she would end up saying yes to his request. Which was why she was standing outside the door to his office as if she had been called here for punishment. Taking a deep breath, she tapped lightly and then, following Melanie's instructions, turned the knob. Dave, who was seated behind his desk, looked up. "Melanie said to come on in," Lindsey offered. Although she'd followed the instructions she'd been given, as Dave stood, he seemed slightly annoyed by the interruption. Or maybe, she realized as she continued to study his expression, he was annoyed because of the presence of the dark-haired man seated on this side of his desk. He, too, got to his feet as Lindsey stepped inside the office. He was no one she recognized. A parent with a complaint about something she'd done? Since it was only the second week of school, she'd given out no grades. If hewashere to complain, it must be about an assignment. She mentally ran through the ones she'd handed out to her classes, but she couldn't imagine why any of them would bring a father to the school. Not in person. "That's fine, Lindsey," Dave said. "Want to close that?" The frisson of anxiety she'd felt when she realized there was someone waiting with Dave escalated. She used the excuse of securing the door to hide it. When she turned back to face the two men, her "meet the parents" smile was firmly in place. "Lindsey, this is Lieutenant Nolan. Detective, Lindsey Sloan, our gifted coordinator." "Ms. Sloan." That thin, hard mouth probably didn't do much smiling, Lindsey thought. And he obviously didn't intend to make an exception for her. His eyes, as dark as his hair, continued to study her as she attempted to retain her own smile. "Detective?"she questioned. "With the sheriff's department." "And...you want to seeme?" "The lieutenant's in charge of the investigation into the church fires," Dave interjected. Lindsey's gaze automatically shifted to her principal as he made his explanation. Almost immediately she refocused it on the detective. She realized that his eyes had never left her face, undoubtedly because he was noting her reaction to what Dave had just said. Three rural black churches in the county had been torched on separate nights last July. Although no additional fires had occurred during August, the initial three continued to get top billing in both the state and national media. "I'm sorry. You must think I'm very slow," Lindsey said, "but I still don't understand why you want to see me." "We've been working with the FBI to develop a profile of the people who set those fires." Nolan's voice was deep, its accent decidedly not local. Nor was his appearance. The dark suit was too stylishly cut. And probably too expensive for this setting. His hair was a little long. Not nearly conservative enough for someone associated with local law enforcement. She wondered how the good old boys in the department related to Lieutenant Nolan. Of course, her idle curiosity had no relevance to this discussion. And based on the intensity of the detective's gaze, she had the distinct impression that she'd better get focused on what Nolan was saying rather than on what he looked like before something important slipped by her. "And that profile led you to me?" She thought she'd figured out where this was going, but she wanted him to put it into words. At least shWilson, Gayle is the author of 'Suicide Club ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780778324690 and ISBN 0778324699.