The Ghost

By A.M. Carlisle

A school shooting rocks a Texas town and threatens to tear friends and family apart. A young, popular honor roll student is at the center of the tragedy. His family struggles to find out why while fighting the backlash. The past and present collide in an emotional rollercoaster for the mother as their lives spin out of control. Can friendship, love, and the family survive it all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798885058643

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jenny dropped the phone and ran for the door, skidding to a stop to turn and run for the car keys hanging from a hook in the kitchen. On the way back to the door, she scooped up the cracked cell phone. The phone rang as soon as she opened the car door and dropped inside. Shit hit the automatic opener as her phone rang again, but she ignored it and sped out the still opening bay door, barely missing it. Weaving her way across town, she tried to make two calls, but neither answered. She punched the answer button when the third call came in. Can’t talk, I have to get to the school! she yelled and skidded around a slow-moving Honda.

Okay, you’ve heard! I have the news on, but they don’t seem to know anything yet. What did you hear? Jenny’s sister Amanda practically yelled.

Miranda called, said there’d been a shooting at Georgetown High, that’s it.

The news said at least fourteen are dead so far, and they think the gunman has kids hostage in a classroom on the second floor.

Do they know who? I mean a student or adult? Jenny slapped the steering wheel in frustration at the heavy traffic.

I don’t think they know yet—reports are fuzzy. Some kids said it was a student. Others said an adult.

Dear God, is there more than one? Who shoots up a school?

I think you mean, ‘Who shoots up a private school for rich kids?’ And unfortunately, it happens way too often these days.

"Don’t be an ass, Amanda. I know it happens, but I never thought it could happen here in this town. That’s big city shit."

Have you heard from anyone up there? Are your kids okay?

No, I haven’t. I tried their cell phones but no luck.

I’m sure they’re fine, just have their phones in their lockers like the rules say.

I hope so, but I know teenagers and seriously doubt any of them lock up the phones.

I’ll keep calling them. You concentrate on driving and not killing anyone. If I hear from them, I’ll call back.

Thanks, Amanda. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.

She hung up and swung around a semitruck and roared down a side street short cut to the school. No luck, it seemed half the town had the same idea: Cars, trucks, and SUVs blocked the cross streets. She backed up to go around the block and saw the same problem. Vehicles blocked all the roads to the school for blocks around. She parked, jumped out, and started running. After only a few houses, though, she had to stop and take deep breaths. Jenny knew she needed to lose fifteen pounds, maybe twenty, and get back to the gym. At around 150 and only 5'6", she knew she was chunky but didn’t usually mind. Times like this, though, she felt it. But damn, she loved her chips and dip.

A quick look around told her that all the cars were as empty as hers. She heard the mob a block away. Angry, scared parents lined the street behind police barricades. They were so loud she couldn’t hear the officer with the bullhorn until she pushed her way toward the front.

Everyone, please calm down and stay back! The kids that have been evacuated are being looked over by medical teams and counted. If you’ll go to the end of the block, a command area has been set up to take your names, phone numbers, and children’s names. Stay calm and go sign in.

Parents were screaming questions; most wanted to know if the shooter or shooters had been caught. Others wanted to know how many were wounded.

The harried officer shouted again for calm and that they couldn’t release any information yet. Some of the parents started down toward the command center when someone yelled the doors were opening. The two-story brick-and-mortar private high school had last been updated in the nineties. There were no metal detectors, cameras, or doors requiring visitors to be buzzed in. Short wrought-iron fences ringed the property, and trees dotted the landscape. Over six hundred kids walked through its doors each day. The large building also served as an emergency shelter, a safe haven.

Jenny pushed forward and saw two deputies carrying a large boy to a triage area in the parking lot. All three were covered in blood. EMTs rushed over to help. Two ambulances took off with sirens as three more pulled into the parking lot.

A man grabbed Jenny’s arm and shouted, Who is it? Can you see? I lost my glasses. He seemed disoriented and in shock.

No, I can’t tell. I’m sorry!

The door opened again, and a tall, thin man ran out, carrying a small female with bloody blond hair.

Oh, God…Ariel. That’s my daughter! a woman behind Jenny screamed.

The officer repeated the plea for calm and to go to the tents.

Jenny ran for the large blue tent, where several deputies and state troopers were taking information. Some people they directed to another blue tent a few yards away; the rest they asked to wait near a large red tent for their names to be called when they received information on their children or spouses. For the moment, no one knew if any staff were hurt because all able-bodied adults were either helping with triage or corralling students by homeroom and doing head counts in safe zones across the street to the right of the school. That area was blocked by police trucks, SWAT vans, and barricades. The parents were asked to not attempt going there but to wait patiently in the tents.

Jenny gave her children’s names, but the officer didn’t have them listed.

What the hell does that mean? Where are my kids?

It means they are unaccounted for yet. Everyone taken to the hospital so far has been identified. So they could be either in triage or the safe zone.

Or they could still be inside, right?

Yes, ma’am, but don’t panic. We are doing everything we can. There are people searching the first floor now for hiding or injured students.

What about the ones on the second floor? I heard the shooter is there with hostages!

I can’t— he started, but Jenny cut him off.

Don’t give me that bullshit—it was on the news!

Fine. Yes, there is at least one gunman on the second floor, in the back. That’s all we know. We don’t know yet how many hostages he has.

There’s one guy? Can’t you go get him, shoot him through a window…something? Jenny begged.

Uh…well, not yet. The stairs are booby-trapped, and two bomb squad members were shot trying to get them disarmed. We can’t see him, and someone shoots when anyone goes to the back of the building.

There’s two shooters then? At least?

We believe there were three, but one was shot by police.

Who was it? Someone from here? Jenny couldn’t believe someone from her town could do this.

I can’t release that. The captain will hold a press conference soon. Negotiators are trying to contact one of the shooters.

Jenny tried asking more, but he refused to answer any more questions, pointing her toward the red tent and moving to the next parent to arrive.

Exasperated, Jenny went and found many parents awaiting word, some clearly in shock; most were crying, pacing, shaking, and yelling for answers. Jenny saw a table in the back and threaded her way to it. So many of her friends, neighbors, coworkers, and people she recognized but didn’t know crowded the tent and surrounding area.

At the table, some women from a local church were passing out coffee, tea, and cookies. Jenny’s stomach rolled at the thought of eating or drinking anything. Toddlers and children too young for school ran around the area or were held tightly by scared parents.

She heard someone calling her name and looked hopefully to the woman with the list of names. Hearing her name again behind her, she turned to see her elderly neighbor and friend, Mrs. Dooley.

Oh, Jenny, I came as soon as I could! Where are Michael and Stacey? Jenny gratefully accepted the offered hug and wept.

I don’t know. I’m waiting to be called. They could be in the triage area or still inside for all I know.

Oh, honey, I pray they’re all right. Is anyone here with you?

No, Miranda called me from work, though. She’ll come as soon as she can. Amanda is probably on her way to the hospital—it’ll be all hands on deck.

Yes, she’s a good nurse. She’d go help wherever she can. I’ll stay with you. You shouldn’t be here alone. I came to see if I could help somehow, and I think you need a friend.

Thanks, but you don’t have to babysit me.

Honey, I watched over you as a child and watched over your babies too!

They were interrupted by people screaming and running to the barricades.

Did anyone see what happened? someone yelled.

There were shots! Someone got shot. I hope it’s the asshole that did this! someone else shouted.

Jenny was about to ask where the shots came from, but an explosion rocked the ground, and the front doors blew off the school.

Chapter 2

Jenny stood frozen for a second and screamed for Michael and Stacey. Someone moaned next to her, and she saw Mrs. Dooley, who’d fallen or been knocked to the ground. When the explosion shook the ground, some people fell, and others were knocked down in the stampede that followed.

Mrs. Dooley! Wait, don’t get up. Let me get help! Jenny frantically called and waved to the nearest officer, who came running. He used his radio to ask for medics at the red tent. Several people were bleeding or had obvious broken limbs.

Jenny couldn’t believe that amid all this, people were still so horrible to each other. I hate people sometimes!

I’m okay, dear. I think I bruised my hip, though.

EMTs started pushing through the crowd and went to help the injured. They moved the people back and took the injured to the triage area in the parking lot.

If I see Michael or Stacey, I’ll call you, Mrs. Dooley said as they loaded her onto a stretcher.

Men in armor swarmed around the doorless entryway to the school. Jenny waited and watched, but no one else came out. After another frantic twenty minutes and no answers, she made for the side of the school opposite the safe zone, and watching for police, she tried to look nonchalant as she neared the stairs leading down into the gymnasium. She had to get inside and find her kids. Through the open door, she could see an adult body in a pool of blood. Several officers and men in suits milled around talking, measuring, taking pictures, and samples. Two men with automatic rifles stood in the doorway to the hall, watching, guarding. She was about to turn around and try another way in when someone spoke close to her right side, in the shadows.

I should’ve known you wouldn’t listen and stay back, she said, stepping into the light and blocking Jenny’s view.

Jenny’s heart skipped a couple of beats then pounded. The deputy stood rigid with her arms crossed in front of her. A little taller than Jenny at 5'8" and more fit, her bearing made her seem to tower. Her short, usually neat black hair stood up in places as if she’d run her hands through it several times that day.

My kids are here. Where else would I be?

Waiting with the rest of the terrified parents.

Have you seen my kids? I need to find them.

I haven’t, no. Go back and wait.

Can you tell me anything? Is that one of the shooters? She pointed to the man on the floor.

I can’t tell you anything. You know that. You need to leave—now.

Don’t give me that bullshit, Deputy. Don’t treat me like I’m just another parent. This is Michael and Stacey!

"Oh, I’m Deputy now, am I?"

That’s right. Since the job is all you care about. Speaking of, why haven’t you gone all John Wayne on the shooters yet?

Stop being an asshole, Jenny. I have a job to do, and I’m doing it. Right now, I’m stopping unnecessary people from coming in.

"Right…I’m unnecessary. I guess I forgot, with someone shooting up my kids’ school and all! Sorry, Deputy Montgomery."

I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it! You can’t be in here.

At least tell me about the explosion and what you know about my kids!

I have no idea where your kids are. We evacuated over five hundred safely. Last I heard, over thirty have been taken to the hospitals.

Jenny’s voice broke as she asked, Fatalities?

The woman looked at her and softened. "Eighteen that I know of so far. Your kids are not among those, I know. She paused then added, For what it’s worth, I did look for them. Now please go."

Over the deputy’s shoulder, Jenny saw a man striding toward them and knew she needed to leave.

Fine. Call me if you hear anything…please?

The deputy looked unsure but then nodded.

Thanks…Kitty.

The deputy stiffened at the old nickname but let it go. She remembered when Jenny first called her that. She’d found out that Sam’s parents called her Bunny and tried to make Sam use it even as an adult. Jenny said she seemed more like a Kitty because she could be sweet and soft, or the claws would come out and shred someone. It also worked for her middle name, Katherine.

Jenny waited with the others near the red tent but away from the press of bodies. She paced, rubbing her arms and compulsively checking her phone. Mrs. Dooley hadn’t called, so her kids must not be in triage. She didn’t want to think of what that meant.

Parents were called away, either to the hospital or to pick up their kids from the safe zone. The crowd dwindled, but still Jenny waited. The sun began to set, and the air grew cooler. By nine o’clock, Jenny was frantic and about to go ballistic when she saw two uniforms and a suit coming her way. Her mouth dried out and her heart raced when she looked at Deputy Samantha Montgomery’s face. All business, stoic, except for her eyes. Those dark-green orbs couldn’t hide the horror and dread their owner felt. No, no, it couldn’t be—her kids had to be okay!

Mrs. Hudson? We’d like to talk to you privately. Please come with us, the suit said.

Not Mrs., I’m Jenny. What happened? Where are Michael and Stacey?

Come with us please, another deputy said. Jenny looked to Sam, who only looked away.

Jenny started crying and gulping for air; she felt like someone sat on her chest, crushing her. No. No. No…I can’t do this! My kids have to be okay! she said, backing away.

Sam grabbed her arms and gave her a shake. Jenny, get a grip! They are alive, but you need to come with us!

Jenny focused on the word alive, and it became a mantra replaying in her head.

Alive? Oh, thank God! Let me see them. Where are they?

Sam gripped her arm harder and pulled her forward. This is Detective Anderson. I’ll go with you, but you need to go talk to him. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can see the kids.

That got through to Jenny, and she followed the detective. The deputies walked on either side of her.

They took her to a large RV, set up as a mobile command post. When the detective opened the door, he jerked a thumb and all, but two people left the RV. He didn’t introduce them, but she recognized one of the remaining men as Sheriff Mosely. He was a tall barrel of a dark-skinned man with a booming baritone and kind eyes. The detective pointed to a chair for Jenny to sit. Sam sat next to her, leaving the other deputy outside.

She looked to Sam and asked what was going on. Sam looked to the detective.

He took a chair opposite her and ran a hand through his thinning brown hair before speaking.

I don’t have time to play games or coddle you, so I’m going to give it to you straight, but you need to keep it together. You can’t fall apart right now. He held up a hand when Jenny started to speak.

We’ve established contact with one of the shooters, the one with the hostages. He’s holding ten students and an elderly algebra teacher in a back room. He claims no one is hurt beyond a few bruises.

Oh no, Michael and Stacey are in there!

Ma’am, I know this is difficult, but please let me finish. He flicked a glance at Sam, like he expected her to keep Jenny quiet.

Deputy Montgomery here says she knows you well and that you’re a strong person, capable of helping us. Is that true?

Of course I’ll help in any way I can, but I don’t understand what I could do that the hundreds of people out there can’t.

Let me explain what we have so far. There were three shooters—one is dead, one we think escaped, and the other is in there with hostages. He nodded to a man in the back with a headset on and reading a computer file.

That’s the negotiator who made contact but so far hasn’t made any headway beyond learning the number of people in there. We want to get everyone, including the shooter, out alive. As you can imagine, it’s a tense situation. He’s lined up the kids and teacher in front of the windows and stays out of sight. We know he is—or at least was—getting instructions from someone via cellphone with a Bluetooth earpiece. We know this because we hijacked the signal from the Bluetooth and made contact. We have cleared three traps in the stairwells, and a fourth blew up, taking the front doors and four men with it. We’re looking for more traps and must move slowly. We want to get him alive, but the longer it takes, the more dangerous it is. He’s getting more anxious by the minute, and we don’t want any accidents. He paused to let Jenny digest the information.

Okay. What is he demanding? Can you give him whatever he wants?

The negotiator spoke up and said, So far, he isn’t asking for much, and we plan to trade him one for thing he’s demanding. I asked for a release of half the hostages as a good faith effort. He refused but said he’d let the teacher go once he gets his call.

What does he want and how can I help? Jenny asked.

Detective Anderson and Sam shared a look.

He wants to talk to his mother. The shooter is Michael.

Chapter 3

Jenny lunged for the detective, screaming, No, you’re lying!

Sam grabbed her around the torso from behind, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Jenny! Jenny, listen to me. It is Michael!"

No! there’s no way! My son couldn’t do this. You don’t know him if you think he could!

It is! He isn’t acting normal right now. We know he was working with at least one adult male. Jenny…please sit down and let us tell you what to do next.

No! I don’t believe you. Whoever said it was Michael is lying! Where is Stacey? She’ll tell you.

Stacey has been taken to the hospital. She’s in shock but okay. Just before this happened, Michael zip-tied her hands and feet and put her in a closet in a first-floor classroom. He told her it was for her protection. You can talk to her after the doctors check her out. I can call someone to go be with her if you want.

I need to be with her!

Later. We need you to talk to Michael first. Get him to come out peacefully. No one else needs to be hurt today.

Jenny plopped hard into the chair, stunned. She couldn’t absorb what they were saying. Her Michael? The good-looking, popular baseball player? The one who protected smaller, weaker kids from bullies?

Aren’t the kids that do this the bullied ones? Or the quiet, angry loners? Michael isn’t like that. He has a good life at home and school. He hates guns! He was the freshman and sophomore homecoming prince both years for god’s sake!

"We don’t have the answers yet, but it is him. I’m sorry."

We have twenty minutes to prepare you before the call. Do you want a drink or food? Detective Anderson asked.

Water please. My mouth feels like the Sahara. Why do I need to prepare to talk to my son? I’ve been doing it for fifteen years.

The negotiator explained that there were things she needed to say, others that she couldn’t. Sam brought her a bottle of water and laid a hand on her shoulder, saying, I can’t imagine what you are going through, but I’ll stay with you if you want. Just do what Mr. Doe says. Jenny stiffened at the familiar, comforting touch but nodded her thanks.

Mr. Doe…seriously? Jenny asked with a hint of a smile.

Yes. My parents thought it would also be funny to name me John. I kid you not—I am John Doe.

Jenny started laughing and couldn’t stop. The others joined in, knowing the hilarity was mostly Jenny’s shock and hysteria. They let her have a few moments to get it out. Once Jenny calmed, she sat next to Mr. Doe and listened to his advice. She kept thinking there had to be a mistake, though. It had to be another Michael.

Someone knocked on the door, and an officer poked his head in. There’s a woman here insisting on seeing Ms. Hudson.

No, we’re busy. Tell whoever it is she can wait.

Sir? She’s the mayor’s daughter. Miranda Cunningham. She refuses to leave.

Jenny! Jenny, are you in there? Let me see her, damn you, or I’ll have your badges!

Shit. Let her in, Detective Anderson said with a grimace.

Miranda stormed in and ran to Jenny, wrapping her arms around her. Miranda was an inch shorter than Jenny’s 5'6" and rail thin with pixie-cut blond hair.

What the hell is going on? No one will tell me anything.

Jenny looked to the detective, who nodded and said, "What you hear is classified. No one—and I mean no one—is to hear. That goes for the mayor, the press, everyone. If you stay, you must be quiet and not interfere in any way. If you can’t do that, I’ll ask you to leave now. Understand?"

Miranda bristled but agreed.

Jenny took Miranda’s hand and sat down. They’re saying Michael is one of the shooters. In a few minutes, they’re going to call, and I’ll find out for myself.

Oh, honey, that can’t be right! There’s got to be a mistake. What are you going to do?

Jenny shook her head. I have no idea. I’ll talk to the guy, but I can’t believe it’s Michael. I’ll try to clear up this mess and get him to come out, whoever it is.

Doe said, It’s time. Come sit next to me and take a deep breath. Remember, I’m here with you. Use his name. Try not to talk specifically about the hostages. If he mentions anyone, roll with it, but don’t place too much importance on them. We want him to not think of them in terms of important leverage. Don’t say words like ‘kill,’ ‘shoot,’ ‘dead.’ Don’t promise him anything unless I give you a nod. The goal is to get him and everyone else out safely. Tell him we want to help. We know he didn’t do this alone, and it might not even have been his idea. Give him hope.

Do you promise? To keep him safe, I mean. I don’t want to give him false hope and have some trigger-happy snipers kill him. I still don’t think it’s Michael, but whoever it is, I’ll try to talk them out.

We’ll do everything we can to avoid killing anyone, but it depends on his actions. If he starts shooting hostages, I can’t promise anything.

Jenny tried to open the water bottle with trembling hands but couldn’t. Miranda opened it for her and grabbed another for herself.

Thanks. Would you go sit with Stacey please? I can’t stand thinking of her there all alone and scared.

Me? No, I’m staying right here with you. Stacey is fine. I talked to her on the way here for a minute. She said a counselor is there with her and a couple of friends, and Amanda checks on her.

Why did she call you and not me? Did she say anything about Michael?

No, honey. She only said to tell you she loves you and to come when you can. She couldn’t get through to you, she said, and thought we might be together.

We jammed cell phones for a few blocks around earlier, Sheriff Mosely said. Now they’re open so we can talk to the perpetrator.

Don’t call him that. His name is Michael if it really is my son, which I still don’t believe.

It is, Jenny. You need to face it, so pull yourself together and get ready, Sam said.

Jenny took a long swallow of water and tried to calm her racing heart while Mr. Doe dialed the phone. When it connected, he put it on speaker.

Michael, this is Mr. Doe. I’m calling back like I promised. Are you okay? Do you need anything?

Is my mom with you? That’s what you promised.

Jenny’s hand flew to her mouth at the familiar voice. Her heart pounded in her ears, and bile burned her throat as she struggled not to throw up. She tried to deny the voice she knew so well but couldn’t. Mr. Doe held up a hand in a stop gesture before she said anything.

She is. Are you going to keep your promise and let the teacher go?

Not until I make sure you aren’t lying. That’s what cops do. Sam cringed at that, and Miranda smirked.

I’m here, honey. What happened? Are you all right? Did someone make you do this? This isn’t you, Michael. Help me understand.

Silence greeted her plea. When he finally spoke, Jenny could hear him fighting tears, and her heart broke for him.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom. I never meant for any of this! I don’t know what to do.

I’m here for you, Michael. I’ll help you. Can you let the teacher go while we talk? Jenny asked, and Doe nodded his approval.

Yes. I’ll send her down the back stairs. He said the bombs there were disarmed.

Who said, honey? Who put bombs in the school?

I can’t tell you. He’ll kill everyone if I do! Jenny could hear the fear and rising panic in his voice.

Okay, honey, just take a breath and talk to me. We need to get you safely out of there. Can you come out?

I want to, Mom, I really do. But he’ll kill me. Or you and Stacey.

I’m safe. So is Stacey. She’s with Aunt Amanda at the hospital.

Is she hurt? I tried to protect her, Mom. I really did!

No, baby. She’s not hurt, but she’s scared and in shock. We can protect you, I promise. Just come out.

I can’t. You don’t understand!

Then help me understand. I want to help you.

Mom…he’s crazy. No one is safe.

Before Jenny could reply, Detective Anderson’s radio crackled with life, and people were yelling reports. Jenny couldn’t make it all out, but the paunchy detective swung his arm, knocking all the water bottles and coffee cups off the small table.

Damn it! He shot the teacher! The teacher is down outside the back door and one of the SWAT team! he yelled into the radio, asking where the shooter was.

Michael screamed through the speaker, demanding to know what happened. Jenny stiffened and couldn’t speak. The negotiator took over and asked, Michael, can I call you back in a few minutes? I need to find out what happened.

I didn’t shoot anyone, I swear!

We know, son. It came from outside. Can I call you back?

"Don’t call me son, you piece of shit! I’m not talking to you anymore, only my mom!" The line went dead. Jenny still sat frozen until Doe called her name and tapped her arm several times.

Why did he react like that when I called him ‘son’?

Michael’s father, my ex-husband, hasn’t been…he’s not in the picture.

Your ex? I need his name and birthdate, social if you have it, Detective Anderson said.

Why? He hasn’t seen the kids since Michael was five and Stacey four.

Because we have to check everyone and everything connected to Michael, no matter how slim.

His name is Robert Michael Hudson. Last I heard, he lived in Colorado, some cabin in the mountains. She gave his birthdate but didn’t remember his social security number.

Okay. Can you give me any other information like what he does for a living?

No. I haven’t seen or talked to him since the divorce. He used to be in the Navy, a SEAL. I don’t know what he did, really—he kept that part of his life closed. But I know he had severe PTSD. That’s why I ended it.

Tell me about that. Why you left, I mean. Was he violent?

Not at first. He had night terrors, and loud, unexpected noises sent him to the ground for cover. Then the panic attacks started. Then came paranoia—he thought everyone was out to kill him. Men hiding in the bushes like that. The final straw was… She paused and didn’t want to continue.

Sam said quietly, It’s okay. He needs to know.

Jenny stared hard at the other woman then blew out a harsh breath.

Fine. The kids were playing in the backyard. It was fall, and Michael was burying Stacey in leaves. We had a golden retriever named Ruger then. Robert named him. Ruger was running around the kids and diving into the leaf piles. I was mulching the small garden, and Robert was in the house, watching a football game, I think. It was just a normal day…until the car backfired or whatever the noise was. Maybe kids with a firecracker, I don’t know. Anyway, Robert came flying out the sliding doors and rolled to a crouch next to the wall. He had a gun in his hand and was shaking, shouting for cover fire. Stacey leaped from the leaves and yelled to him. He swung the gun around to her, and Ruger lunged at him, knocking him over. The gun went off before he dropped it, and it spun across the small deck and fell to the grass. Michael ran for the dog, I ran for the gun, and Stacey just kept screaming. Robert was punching the dog. Michael was crying and trying to pull Ruger away. I looked to Stacey first but didn’t see any blood so ran to Robert and Michael. Robert accidentally punched Michael, and Ruger clamped his teeth on Robert’s arm. Michael was knocked out. I scooped him up and ran to grab Stacey. I ran around the front and loaded them into the car but had to run inside for my keys. I grabbed my purse and whistled on the way to the car. Ruger came running and jumped in behind the kids. We took off. I went to the hospital, and my sister Amanda called the police. They were already at my house. A neighbor had called after the gunshot. They arrested Robert, who was crouched, bleeding on the deck. Eventually, I went back to move our stuff from the house while Robert was in jail. Later, he sold it and sent me a check for half. I didn’t see him again until the divorce. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.

Miranda took her hand and said, You never told me any of that. You should’ve!

Lay off, Miranda. This isn’t the time. Obviously it’s something she doesn’t talk about, Sam said.

"Well, you obviously knew. What else don’t I know?"

Knock it off or get the hell out! Detective Anderson yelled and dialed a number on his cell phone.

Sam leaned back against the table, and Miranda stalked to the door. Jenny thought she would leave and didn’t bother to stop her. She didn’t, though, just stood with her back to the others. After a moment, she said, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know, and it shocked me that you’d been through something so horrible and didn’t share it.

Jenny didn’t reply to her but asked the detective what happened when he hung up his cell phone.

"SWAT was ready for the teacher, but as soon as the door opened, she was shot. They think