Oh dear God—do I need to watch out for that kid?”
Jackson pushed the final pin in and stood back to admire his work proudly. “Don’t confront him,” Jackson said after a moment. “Don’t say, ‘I know what you did.’ Don’t ask him about it. Be normal. Tell him to get off school property or whatever, but then get out of his face and call me.” He pulled out his card and then wrote Sac PD’s number on the back, as well as Fetzer’s and Hardison’s extensions, which he knew by heart now. “Or call them. The point is—”
“Oh my God, you’re slow.” Jackson looked up as Henry burst in, and rolled his eyes.
“Hi, Henry. This is Mrs. Eccleston. She’s given me a gold mine of information. Are you done flirting with the football coach yet?”
Henry made a gagging motion with his finger and open mouth. “Gross. It would be like flirting with a slime mold. Ugh. Poor kids. I’d rather sleep with an octopus. At least they’re sensitive and have morals.”
Jackson closed his eyes and then opened them again. “Did I mention Mrs. Eccleston the history teacher who is in the room?”
Henry rolled his eyes. “Please. She’s not going to melt if I talk. Besides, the smell of food is making me faint. I can’t be held accountable. Ma’am, if I may ask, where did you get that—”
Jackson held out his bag of food, complete with soda.
“—sandwich?” Henry finished. He threw himself into one of the desks with so much force Jackson watched the cheap metal legs bow. “Gimme.”
Jackson set it down in front of him. “You’re welcome. So did you get any info—”
“He’s dirty,” Henry said through a mouthful of pastrami on sourdough. “But not in the way we thought.” He swallowed. “You are the best work partner ever. If I wasn’t in love with someone else, I’d marry you.”
“Be sure to tell your someone else that so your someone else doesn’t shiv me if you get hurt,” Jackson muttered. “How’s he dirty?”
“How’s who dirty?” Mrs. Eccleston asked curiously. “Did you want my chips?”
“No thanks, ma’am,” Jackson told her. “Too hot to eat.”
“And your assistant coach,” Henry said, after swallowing.
“Sal?” she asked, looking legitimately surprised. “Herredia? He’s an angel!”
Henry took another bite and nodded, chewing thoughtfully. They waited for him to swallow before he said, “He seemed totally nice and totally legit. It’s the other guy. The guy who works the bench. Schroeder.”
Her face closed down. “Yeah. He’s related to our SRO. That guy’s name is Schroeder too. They’re both….” She grimaced. “You can hear it in people’s voices. When they talk to a group of kids. There’s the tentative people who don’t know what they’re doing and the confident people who do and the people who assume the kids are stupid and inferior, and they think they know what they’re doing and they really don’t.”
“They throw their power around because they don’t have the kids’ respect,” Jackson said, getting it.
“Yeah. Both the Schroeders. They bark out orders, and they don’t get that the kids are doing what they say out of fear. Not out of respect.”
Jackson and Henry met eyes. “I know the type,” Jackson said mildly. “Henry, how did you know he’s dirty?”
Henry chewed thoughtfully. “Besides being an asshole to the kids, he kept talking about sports statistics. On kids. You know who I know who used to recite statistics like that? At the drop of a hat?”
Jackson’s heartbeat picked up in the good way that was the thrill of adrenaline when you found something you weren’t expecting to find. “Bookies?”
Henry nodded decisively. “Man, we got really fucking—uh, fricking—bored in the desert. Someone was always betting on something. I learned everything I ever need to know about gambling watching my ex burn through both our paychecks on a Sweet Sixteen pick one year. God, he was an asshole. I hope it was worth it.”
“Your ex, no,” Jackson muttered. “And hey, way to spill your personal life in front of the nice lady who didn’t ask to share lunch with you.”
Henry stopped for a moment and looked horrified. “But you—”
“Didn’t use pronouns. But that’s fine. I’m glad you’re all evolved and swearing in front of your history teacher now. Tell me more about the bad guy, Henry! That’s why I sent you out there.”
Henry took another bite of sandwich and slowed down enough to think, thank God. “He was looking at the kids like statistics,” he said slowly. “And when I mentioned Ty Townsend, he got this… this