There was a quiet knock at the classroom door.
“Come in,” called Mrs. Hinman. “Oh—hi, Jerry.”
“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to be sure there wasn’t any electrical damage from the weekend flood. Mind if I check a couple wall outlets?”
“No, not at all.”
Ben heard a muffled clank—Lyman’s canvas tool bag. Then there were some rustling sounds, a few clicks, and then a loud electronic beep.
Lyman grunted a little, and then there was another beep.
“Looks like things are okay. Any problems with the overhead lights?”
“No, everything’s been fine. So . . . are you checking all the classrooms?”
“Trying to—been putting in a lot of extra hours these past few days. Well,” Lyman said, “glad everything’s all right.”
“Me too—thanks, Jerry.”
There were footsteps, and then Ben heard the classroom door close.
Jill whispered, “I can’t breathe. . . . Can we get out now?”
Ben felt her start to push the door.
Lyman’s voice: “Sorry—forgot my meter.”
“No problem.”
Footsteps in, footsteps out, and the door closed again.
Ben whispered, “Count to thirty.”
After twenty seconds or so, Mrs. Hinman called softly, “He’s gone.”
Ben followed Jill into the brightness, and blinking, he saw the teacher standing next to the closed classroom door, peering out sideways down the hall.
She glanced at the three of them, and raising one eyebrow, she said, “He didn’t go to any other rooms. Sit there in the back, away from the doorway.”
Mrs. Hinman pulled up a chair and said, “All right. Tell me everything. And then tell me what you need me to do. As long as I don’t have to break any laws, I’m in!”