wrists raw for years after her mother's murder. The unconscious, obsessive gesture scared her more than anything.
You are not going to fall apart.
Separating her hands, she sank back into her armchair. If only she could tell someone what had happened. Vomit up every detail until she was free of them all. But she wouldn't risk hurting the school by telling anyone, not even for her own peace of mind. Nick was the only person she could talk to, and he had disappeared.
Fortunately, everyone assumed the publicity about Nick's connection to Shelley Spier's murder had caused the dark circles under her eyes and the strain in her voice. Rachel let them think what they wanted. She was still hiding the truth a few days later, when Felice poked her head into Rachel's office.
"That good-for-nothing Bill Hughes called me at home." The large woman stepped in. As usual, her massive, square frame was swathed in a swirling mass of bright color-hot pink today. "Said the Parish Council had doubts about your judgment. He wanted some dirt on Nick, but I didn't tell him anything."
Rachel sighed. "There isn't anything to tell."
"That's exactly what I said. He did his job, right? He never did anything else but his job. They can't shut us down for that, can they?"
"They can try."
"But they won't. You've pulled us away from the edge before. You'll see, you'll do it again."
Her confidence put Rachel on the verge of breakdown, unable to handle anything, much less Bill Hughes and the rest of the Parish Council. Misinterpreting, Felice gave Rachel a friendly smile. "Look, I know you're bummed. But this'll all blow over soon. In a week or two, everyone will forget about Nick."
If only she could forget him. Why did whoever it was drop her at Nick's door? Who would want to terrorize her? Why? The questions haunted her, making it impossible to put the experience behind her. But the only one who could give her the answers she needed had vanished. God, what had happened to him?
Just then, someone rapped on her door. Rachel looked up to see a small, scrappy man with a hangdog face and sharp, watery blue eyes.
"Miss Goodman? I'm Detective Pat May." He stepped in and shook her hand. "I understand you wanted to talk to someone about Nicky Raine?"
She'd completely forgotten the phone call she'd made to the police a few days ago after wrestling with her conscience about Nick. Now it was as if the universe had heard her cry and sent an answer to it.
Felice slid out the door, and Rachel settled into the chair behind her desk, gesturing the detective into the seat across from her. He opened a notepad.
"Raine says he worked for you."
She nodded. "He was a... a handyman. He cleaned up, fixed things, helped with the kids. We needed another teacher, but I couldn't afford one. Nick was a big help."
He eyed her speculatively, as if he didn't believe her. "And what was it you wanted to tell us?"
She sighed, aware this would pull her in further, but committed to the truth by her phone call. "Look, Deteclive. I wanted to let you know that I was with Nick the night of Shelley Spier's murder."
May's eyebrows rose. "Raine didn't mention it"
She looked down at her hands. She'd been afraid of that. "That's why I called you. Nick didn't want to involve the school any more than it already was."
"A real boy scout," May said dryly. "So where and when were you together?"
"One of the grocery stores had a large donation they couldn't deliver. Nick helped me pick it up. We had a pizza afterward." She gave him the details, including times and addresses.
May wrote everything down in his book. "Nice and convenient, you coming up with an alibi for him."
She bristled. "It may have been... convenient, but it's also the truth."
"Is it?"
"Why would I lie about it?"
"I don't know, Miss Goodman. I just know people do from time to time,"
"If I were going to lie, I wouldn't have called you. The last thing I need is for this school to have any association with Nick or Shelley
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