That was about as close as Jamie would get to throwing himself at the mercy of the court. He glimmered a smile.
Helen’s voice came over the intercom, sounding flustered—phone calls and messages were starting to pile up. Having Heritage and Career Day on the same morning made no sense, but Veronica kept quiet—even sixteen-year-old-Veronica would’ve realized she didn’t have much leverage at this point.
The judge informed Helen that she needed a minute, and then rendered her decision, “You will be suspended until after Thanksgiving break. We will meet again at that point to determine if you have realized your mistakes, and have acquired the proper remorse. Any time missed from school will be made up during the summer.”
Jamie looked sheepishly happy. Visions of jumping into leaf piles and Xbox marathons likely dancing in his head. Not to mention all the gadgets Veronica bought him out of guilt after Carsten died.
But the judge wiped the smile off his face. “I’ve arranged for you to spend your suspension with your Uncle Phil and Aunt Valerie. They have a lot of chores lined up for you.”
Jamie looked perplexed. “But they’re no fun.”
She pointed at him. “Exactly.”
Jamie turned accepting—he was retreating. But Veronica knew his mind was already plotting a way out.
“Now get to Career Day before I change my mind and add another week to your punishment,” Principal Sweetney belted out like a drill sergeant.
Jamie began to stroll toward the door, his shoulders slumped like somebody just stole his lunch box.
“And one other thing,” she barked, just as he reached the door.
He turned, looking hopeful.
“The police are supposed to help people. Not hurt them … or poison them.”
He played with the toy badge pinned to his chest as he digested the words, and then exited through the door, head down.
Veronica grabbed her purse and stood.
Her mother pointed her back down, “You and I aren’t done yet.”
“Can’t we do this later? I’m late for Maggie’s presentation.”
“Sometimes our children are better without us mothers hovering over them. And besides, we’ve put this off too long. I’m worried about them.”
“They’re kids—and they’ve had a tough year. Losing their father … a new house … a new school. I think they’re just blowing off some frustration.”
“It’s more than that.”
“I guess you know my kids better than me.”
“I know you think I didn’t like Carsten.”
“Carsten?” Veronica was caught off guard. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Where are you going with this?”
“It does matter. And you were right—I didn’t like him. I should have been thrilled that my daughter found this seemingly perfect guy who was so smart and charming. And anybody with half a brain could see he was totally in love with you.”
“But you never acted that way.”
“When I met him I was unaware of his family situation, so that had nothing to do with my apprehension.”
“Let’s stop beating around the bush—his mother killed his abusive father. That’s a little more than a situation. What does this have to do with anything?”
“There was something in his eyes that I could never shake. Behind his charismatic smile was this look that said he was capable of doing very bad things.”
Veronica shut her eyes. She visualized the look in those eyes that night in the kitchen when everything changed for them.
“Honey, I’ve seen that same look in Jamie’s eyes, and I think it’s important to stop it right now before it’s too late.”
Chapter 7
Zach Chester was still smiling from his brief encounter with Veronica Peterson. They had gotten to know each other through their kids—TJ and Maggie had no other friends, so their parenting paths had crossed on numerous occasions—and she never failed to make him smile. The part he couldn’t understand was why he felt guilty about it. Sara was the one who did the cheating. And sadly, that was the least of their problems.
It all started when Zach got his dream job at Newsbreaker Magazine and they moved to New York. All was right with the world; at least until Sara began acting erratically and forgetting to pick up TJ at school. There were times when she seemed like a completely different person, but he wrote it off as the stress of trying to adjust to a new life in a new city. But she sure didn’t appear to be stressed-out on the surveillance tapes—the ones taken by the cameras they’d installed in their brownstone for security purposes, including their bedroom, where she seemed to be doing a good job of