Olivia stood on the school lawn sipping her weak coffee, watching the kids tumble from the buses, her casual stance and friendly manner somewhat undermined by the sharpness of her gaze.
The school’s pulse was elevated. Which was only to be expected—but was it excitement? Or tension? She knew all the usual troublemakers: did any of them look more shifty than usual, less willing to meet her eyes or walk in front of her? Or the reverse, equally telling—did any of them greet her with defiance and a secret contempt for what she did not know?
A short cop drinking her morning coffee with a smile on her face, while behind her eyes was a brain thinking, Is it you? What are you planning? What do you hope I’m missing?