“This room isn’t in use.” Cooke pushed wide the door. “Tinsley needs my office, and I don’t want students overhearing us. I thought we could talk in here. I need to know more about what Tinsley’s done and other goings-on you’ve noticed in my school. Before I talk to the police.”
I breathed a sigh of relief at her explanation. Just like the other principals I had known, Cooke wanted to shove her authority in my face by forcing me to explain my behavior. Followed by a chewing of the posterior session for breaking said rules.
In the large, windowless room, dusty bookshelves lined the walls and divided the room into rows. Boxes, extra desks, and chairs had been stacked between the shelves. An old, plastic-lined cot rested against one shelf, probably used for naps by the janitorial staff. The air had a stale smell and bits of paper littered the floor. Cooke shut the door behind us and pointed toward the cot.
“This is where I hold my unofficial conferences, when a faculty or staff member doesn’t want other teachers to know we’re speaking,” she explained.
“This looks like a large supply closet,” I remarked.
“The book room.” Cooke tossed her coat and purse on a desk, then smoothed her blonde bob. “In the summer, the textbooks are kept in here. Now, tell me what you know.”
“The anonymous texting bothered Tinsley.” I lowered myself onto the edge of the cot, hoping to get this over quickly. My head buzzed in anticipation, focused on Cody more than the Peerless issue. “Tinsley heard I had been involved in some criminal cases. Unofficially involved, of course. So he asked me to figure out who was sending the texts.”
“And did you?” Cooke leaned against a desk and folded her arms against her suit jacket.
“After considering a perturbed parent or some kid wanting to prank, I thought it could be Dr. Vail.” I blinked, trying to sort my muddled thoughts. “She had written some accusations against Tinsley on PeerNotes. Or it could be Preston King. He observed the bullying of Ellis Madsen, and I bet he’s not beyond blackmail. Or possibly, Dan Madsen since a lot of the insinuations in the messages had to do with Ellis.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” Cooke’s fingers tapped against her folded arms. “But thirteen faculty and staff received anonymous messages. With a variety of accusations.”
“And most ignored them as ridiculous shots in the dark. The ones who reacted the most—Vail, Pringle, and Tinsley—all received messages relating to Ellis.”
“Poor Ellis. I’m not even sure if she knew about her father. Very few did. I wish she had told me about the anonymous texts.” Cooke stared at the shelf behind my shoulder, brooding. She had bitten off her lipstick and fine lines marked the skin beneath her eyes. Clearly, the ordeal had taken toll on the woman while she had done her best to keep Peerless running efficiently.
“What about you, Ms. Cooke? Was your message about Ellis Madsen?”
Her gaze swiveled back to my face. “No.”
“What was your message about?”
“I don’t even remember.” She waved her hand. “But let’s continue our discussion on Tinsley. Why is his cape criminal evidence?”
I yawned. “I saw someone wearing the cape outside Dr. Vail’s last night.”
“I see,” she said. “Is that why the police are looking for you? They called the school.”
“Dammit.” I blinked. “Sorry. I really should go.”
“Don’t worry. The police don’t know you’re here. When they called I had no idea you were in the school,” she said. “It seems you are in a lot of trouble. Found at a possible murder scene. You mentioned your brother. And Tara’s unhappy with you. Tell me why.”
“For some odd reason, Luke Harper loves me and not her,” my words slurred. “Isn’t that the damnedest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Because you’re not worth loving.” Not a question, but a fact. “You lack the better qualities Tara has.”
“That’s an ugly way to put it. But yes, my mother abandoned me for Shawna’s father. That’s a pretty crappy way to start off in life. Red says I have self-worth issues.” I wondered why my lips decided to spill all this sensitive information to a woman I hardly knew. My bottom slipped forward on the plastic lined cot and my head bumped against a book shelf. “Ouch. You’re better than Red in getting to the heart of my problems.”
“I’ve counseled students for twenty-five years. I told you I was good at summing people up. Don’t you wish you could make the pain go away?”
“Dang right.” I peered at her through foggy eyes. “But that Advil you gave me is working pretty well. Didn’t even feel that bump to my head.”
“Would you like more? Maybe you should rest before going to the police. You seem unable to speak properly.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a vial of pills. “You must be sleepy.”
“In a minute.” I nodded. Or at least my brain sent the signal. My head flopped back.
“I’ll just leave them with you.” Cooke nudged the pills into my hand, closing my fingers around the bottle. “Your water bottle is in your other hand.”
“By the way.” I spoke with my head cranked back, watching her through half-closed eyes. My thoughts climbed through our conversation, landing on a passage. “How did you know thirteen of your staff received messages? Most haven’t shared with anyone.”
Cooke’s cheeks brightened. “I’m obligated to know anything related to this school. Occasionally, I check the staff email accounts. I’d rather nip a scandal in the bud before it erupts.”
“So you knew about the love triangle between Cleveland, Pringle, and Coach Newcomb?”
“That was obvious, although I wouldn’t call it a triangle. I hadn’t realized what an idiot Cleveland would become around someone like Maranda Pringle.” She shook her head. “His wife left him a few years ago. That should have been a red flag.”
“So Cleveland’s ineffective?” I tried to lift my head, but couldn’t manage the effort. Damn concussion. “But you keep him as principal? Does he know what’s going on with the accounts?”
“The accounts? No.” She laughed. “Cleveland likes the prestige of the school. His own private school background was great for PR. And the children like him. But he leaves the grunt work to me.”
“The Bear said something’s wrong with your finances,” I mumbled and tried to watch her reaction. “Maranda sent Cleveland an email about it. So did Amber.”
“A talking bear? You’re not making any sense. Why don’t you rest, dear? I’ll be back later to check on you.”
“I need to go.” I told my brain to tell my body to move, but everything south of my neck had shut down. The water bottle slipped from my hand and rolled to the floor.
“Do you want my help?” Cooke asked. “Does your head still hurt?”
“I’m not sure,” I mumbled. “I’m really tired.”
“Here, dear. Let me help you.” Cooke shook out a handful of pills, dropped them into my slack mouth, and poured water after them.
I moved the pills around with my tongue, shoving them into my cheeks. Water ran from my lips and dribbled over my chin.
Cooke massaged my neck with her scarf and wiped my face. “This will make you feel better. I promise.”
“Just lie down.” She pulled on my legs and my body slid, collapsing on the cot. Through slitted eyes, I watched her dust her hands and don her dark trench coat. One that when she turned, blew out behind her. Like a cape.
Dammit. The expletive cut through my drowsy thoughts as I tried to spit out the pills that were not Advil. Cooke made a good phantom. And an even better killer.
My tongue searched for the last pill, and I rolled it to the edge of my lips where it fell off my chin. Luke was going to kill me for coming back to the school, I thought, edging toward sleep.
If I weren’t already dead first.