Chapter 2 - The Man Who Owned the Hallway
Principal Whitmore’s office smelled of coffee, furniture polish, and the expensive cedar cologne Grant Hayes wore whenever he appeared at school events.
Ethan noticed because Grant arrived twelve minutes after Brooke.
That was faster than Ethan’s father could have driven from work.
Grant Hayes entered without knocking.
Tall, silver-haired, and calm, he wore a charcoal suit despite the August heat.
Brooke sat straighter.
Principal Whitmore stood.
“Grant.”
Not Mr. Hayes.
Grant.
Ethan filed that away.
Detective Harris arrived two minutes later.
Brooke’s father looked irritated.
“I wasn’t informed police were being involved.”
Harris closed the office door.
“A seventeen-year-old girl is missing. Police are already involved.”
Grant smiled without warmth.
“Then perhaps you should be looking for her instead of interrogating my daughter over a cafeteria argument.”
“A cafeteria argument?” Ethan said.
Whitmore gave him a warning look.
Harris did not.
“Let him speak.”
Ethan placed his phone on the desk.
“She kicked my table, kicked my backpack, and brought up my mother. There are probably thirty recordings.”
Grant glanced at Brooke.
“Is that true?”
Brooke folded her arms.
“I pushed the table with my foot. He fell because his chair moved.”
“You told him to stay down,” Harris said.
Brooke’s head turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because someone already sent me the video.”
That answer disturbed Grant more than Brooke.
Ethan saw it.
Harris continued.
“Ethan also says your reaction changed when he mentioned Lena Ortiz.”
Grant laughed once.
“So now facial expressions are evidence?”
“No,” Harris said. “They’re reasons to ask questions.”
Whitmore cleared his throat.
“We need to be careful about turning a school discipline matter into speculation.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Lena filed three complaints against Brooke.”
Whitmore’s face hardened.
“That information is confidential.”
“So it exists.”
Nobody answered.
Brooke looked at her father.
Grant spoke quietly.
“My daughter was not involved in Lena Ortiz’s disappearance.”
“I didn’t say she was,” Harris replied.
Grant paused.
It was only half a second.
But Ethan caught that too.
Harris did not miss it either.
“Brooke,” the detective said, “when did you last see Lena?”
“Last Tuesday.”
“Where?”
“School.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you contact her after school?”
“No.”
Ethan stared at Brooke.
Lena had shown him a message sent at 6:14 p.m.
Meet me behind the old gym. We settle this tonight. — B
Harris knew about it.
He had asked Ethan not to reveal that fact.
“Are you sure?” Harris asked.
Brooke’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Grant leaned back.
“There. You have your answer.”
Harris looked toward Ethan.
“Outside for a minute.”
Ethan followed him into the corridor.
“You did well preserving what happened,” Harris said quietly. “But what I told you before still applies. You do not investigate these people.”
“Her friend got a message.”
Harris’s eyes sharpened.
Ethan repeated what he had seen on Kelsey’s screen.
“Exact words?”
“As close as I can remember.”
“Did you photograph it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else?”
“I don’t know.”
Harris nodded.
“That matters. But Ethan, listen carefully. No trespassing. No following anyone. No secret meetings. You send me what comes to you.”
“What if they delete everything?”
“Then we establish that legally.”
Ethan looked through the office window.
Grant had moved beside Brooke.
He was speaking directly into her ear.
Brooke looked smaller around him.
“Do you think she knows where Lena is?”
Harris waited before answering.
“I think Brooke knows something she hasn’t told us.”
The office door opened.
Grant appeared.
“My daughter is leaving.”
Whitmore stood behind him.
“She’ll be suspended for two days pending review of today’s incident.”
Ethan stared.
“Two days?”
Whitmore turned to him.
“And you’ll meet with the counselor tomorrow.”
“For getting knocked over?”
“For escalating a sensitive matter publicly.”
Harris’s expression changed.
“Careful, Charles.”
Whitmore’s face reddened.
Grant put a hand against Brooke’s back and guided her away.
As she passed Ethan, he saw her phone light in her palm.
One notification.
Unknown number.
She read it.
Her face drained of color.
Then she locked the screen.
“Brooke,” Ethan said.
Grant stopped walking.
Brooke did not turn.
But her father did.
His expression was pleasant.
That somehow made it worse.
“Ethan Cole,” Grant said.
He knew his full name.
“I remember your mother.”
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
Grant smiled.
“She worked for me.”
Brooke suddenly looked at her father.
“Dad.”
Grant ignored her.
“Caroline was talented,” he continued. “Until she made some unfortunate choices.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“What choices?”
Harris moved subtly between them.
Grant buttoned his jacket.
“Ask your father.”
Then he walked away with Brooke.
Ethan remained motionless.
He had known his mother worked in accounting.
He had never known where.
Harris looked at him.
“Did you know that?”
“No.”
His phone vibrated.
An email had arrived from an address made of random letters.
No subject.
One sentence.
Lena found out what happened to your mother.
Below it was a photograph of a handwritten notebook page.
At the top, Lena had written:
May you like
CAROLINE COLE DIDN’T STEAL THE MONEY.
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