Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(39)
She swallowed hard, waiting for another admonishment for not telling him about her stalker, but when it didn’t come, she was glad to change the subject. “Did you hear from Kyle?”
At the mention of his younger brother who’d broken family tradition—and their father’s heart—by joining the FBI instead of the sheriff’s department, Joe’s smile actually reached his eyes. “Yeah. Called to tell me I was a total loser and that I’d probably f*ck up my first day back.”
She laughed. “Nice. Dare I ask how you responded?”
He chuckled. “There was more than a little profanity involved. And I might’ve invited him to bite my ass.”
Brothers.
Being an only child, she’d never quite understood the Dawson brothers’ brand of affection for one another. But having grown up next door to the houseful of rowdy boys, she’d always had a front-row seat to the brawls in the front yard that often ended in bloody noses, black eyes, and more than a little laughter. They might talk tough and give each other a hard time, but they’d always have each other’s backs.
“Any chance he’ll be coming back to town soon?” she asked, trying not to focus too much on the way his uniform hugged his broad shoulders and toned pecs.
Joe shook his head. “Nah. He’s determined to stay pissed at the Old Man. And you know my dad—no way in hell is he going to admit he was wrong.”
She caught the bitter note in Joe’s voice and decided to change the subject once again, “Any word on my car?”
“The guys towed it in for processing,” he told her, turning his back and giving her a good look at a ridiculously fine ass as he skimmed the student poetry she had hanging on the bulletin board. “You can borrow mine until they’re finished.” Before she could ask about its return, he turned back to her and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “How recent are these poems?”
She shook her head, a little confused as to why he’d be asking. “Uh…they were from an assignment we did a few weeks ago in my creative writing class. I do a poetry unit at the beginning of the school year.”
She could practically see him mentally sorting through the data as he tried to put the pieces together—and the frustration when the pieces didn’t fit. “Any of the students last year have a similar writing style to your stalker?”
Her eyebrows came together in a frown. “I didn’t really try comparing any of them.”
He jerked his head toward the doorway. “Who was that kid?”
Her brows shot up. “Sam? He’s one of my best and brightest. Honor student, star athlete.”
Joe heaved a sigh, clearly having hoped she’d have something else to say. “Any other students come to mind? Pissed off about grades? Any bullies—or kids being bullied—who’d be trying to get your attention?”
She shook her head. “No one comes to mind. Just the same teenage angst and attitude I always get.”
“You said that the notes were showing up on your desk at first, right?” he asked, his brows knit together tightly in a dark frown. “Whoever was leaving the notes had to have access to your office. And the school’s doors are always locked during the day.”
“But not after school,” she argued. “Too many activities going on. And even though I lock my classroom before I leave, all the building locks are keyed the same. So anyone with a key could still get in—staff, teachers, student assistants, cleaning crews… It’s hardly Fort Knox after you get inside the building.”
He put his hands on his hips in frustration, the position making his biceps bulge beneath the fabric of his shirt. “What about parents or colleagues? Any of them unusually friendly? Or unfriendly?”
She’d certainly had her fair share of irate parents over the past few years, but she honestly couldn’t think of anyone who held a grudge or what would be considered an unhealthy obsession. Was she being too naive? Had she missed something somewhere? Had she overlooked some vital clue? “No,” she told him, wishing she could give him something to work with.
“What about that ex of yours?” Joe asked, an edge in his voice that was unmistakable. Her heart fluttered at the thought that he might actually be jealous. “The beefcake.”
She winced a little, hoping he didn’t catch it. She’d had a hard and fast rule about not dating coworkers, but she’d suffered a serious lapse in judgment when it came to Sean Jackson. She’d been lonely after Joe’s deployment, missed him desperately. Hell, if truth be told, she’d been lonely long before then, even during those brief periods when she’d been in a relationship, trying to convince herself that she could be happy with someone other than the man she was already in love with.
True to her dating form, she’d only dated Sean for a couple of months before she’d broken things off. At first, she’d worried about how he’d take it, seeing as how Sean’s ego had proven to be his true love. But he hadn’t seemed perturbed in the least.
“That ended amicably,” she said.
Joe jerked his chin at her. “Says you. I want to talk to him.”
? ? ?
Sean Jackson was a tool. That was the nicest way Joe could put it. The guy stood there with his bodybuilder muscles, in his tight athletic shorts and too-tight T-shirt that clearly showed off his bulging biceps and spray tan, chomping his gum like a teenager, wearing his whistle like a medal. Dude needed to let go of his high school glory days. And lay off the ’roids.