Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(48)

“I know! She is the Queen of Rules.” Morgan tossed some paperwork into her tote and followed Lance out to his Jeep.

He drove to the school. By the time he parked in the lot, Morgan’s stomach was tied in guilty knots. She’d been working long hours. Was Ava feeling neglected?

They crossed the pavement, and Lance opened the entry door for her. In the waiting area of the main office, a secretary faced a few plastic chairs. Ava sat in the corner. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and tears streaked her face. One empty chair separated her from a boy who looked to be at least eight and a woman Morgan assumed to be his mother. Mother and son had the same red hair, and there was a clear family resemblance.

Ava’s knees were drawn up to her chest, and she cringed into the corner as if she couldn’t get far enough away from the boy and his mother. No wonder. The mother was glaring at her, while the boy eyed Ava with a small, smug smile.

As soon as she spotted Morgan, Ava launched herself across the room. Morgan stooped and caught her, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s shaking body. “Shh. It’s OK.”

“It most certainly is not OK.” The red-headed woman stood and scowled at them. Her forehead wrinkled as she scanned Lance from head to boots. She turned back to Morgan with a frown. “Your daughter kicked my son in his, um, private parts.”

The principal walked out of her office. “Ms. Dane, you’re finally here. Now we can discuss the incident.” One eyebrow lifted over her stern dark eyes as she glanced at Lance.

Morgan introduced him. “Principal Small, this is Lance Kruger.”

She gestured toward a small conference room next to her office. “Mrs. Sloan is waiting.”

Mrs. Sloan was the music teacher.

“Wait here,” the mother said to her son as she walked toward the open door.

“I’ll be in after I’ve spoken with my daughter.” Morgan straightened, keeping one hand on Ava’s shoulder.

“We’ve already been waiting.” The principal crossed her arms over her chest.

“I appreciate that. I’ll be right in.” Morgan steered Ava out the door and into the hallway and squatted to her level. Lance leaned on the wall. She brushed Ava’s hair off her face. Her skin was hot and sweaty. “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

Ava’s breath hitched. “Bret kept pulling my hair.” She sniffed and dragged her hand under her nose. “I kept asking him to stop, but . . .” Sniff. “He kept doing it. It hurt.”

“Did you tell the teacher?” Morgan asked.

Ava nodded. “Mrs. Sloan said he probably likes me. If he likes me, why did he keep hurting me?”

“Your teacher is wrong.” Morgan bit back her irritation. “Boys don’t hurt girls they like.”

They do it because they enjoy it, and if no one teaches them manners, they grow up to be men with no respect for others, like Warren Fox or ADA Esposito.

“So the teacher didn’t make him stop?” Morgan asked.

Ava shook her head. “He did it harder after I told.” She rubbed a spot behind her ear. Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “He said I’d be sorry if I told on him again.”

Morgan fished a tissue from her tote and gave it to Ava. Then she gently turned her around and checked the spot she was rubbing on her scalp. Anger did a slow burn up her windpipe. Ava had a swollen, scabbed bald spot the size of a dime.

That bully had ripped out a chunk of Ava’s hair.

Lance leaned over her. His face went taut.

Morgan breathed through a spike of rage. “So you kicked Bret?”

Ava’s head did a slow, exaggerated bob. “Grandpa showed me how to make a boy stop touching me.”

Grandpa . . .

A smile tugged at Morgan’s mouth. She and her sisters had received the same lesson from Grandpa, and it had served them just as well.

“Mrs. Sloan said I was in big trouble.” Ava wiped her nose with the tissue. “Am I?”

“No.” Morgan hugged her. “You did the right thing. You asked for help first and defended yourself as a last resort. I will handle Mrs. Sloan.”

She stood, took her daughter’s hand, and the three of them went back into the principal’s office.

“Would you mind staying out here with Ava?” she asked Lance.

“I’d be happy to.” Lance held out his hand and Ava took it. She moved closer to him, plastering her little body to his leg. When he sat in one of the plastic chairs, she crawled onto his lap. He wrapped his thick arms around the little girl. She leaned against his chest and finally relaxed, no doubt feeling safe for the first time all afternoon.

Morgan was almost ashamed at the small surge of pleasure she felt when the bully shifted to the last seat in the row to put one more chair between him and Lance.

Almost.

The teacher, the principal, and the boy’s mother were all sitting at a round table in a small conference room.

The principal gestured toward the teacher. “Mrs. Sloan is in charge of the school play tryouts.”

Mrs. Sloan narrowed her eyes. “During today’s session, your daughter kicked Bret. She could have seriously injured him.”

Morgan sat. “Did my daughter come to you for help?”

“Well, yes.” Mrs. Sloan pursed her lips. “But it was such a trivial thing. Children are so touchy these days. They really need to toughen up.”