A Bloodhound to Die for Read Online Free PDF Page B

hear nothing. I turned the knob slowly and found the door was not locked. I glanced back to see if Hank was watching me, but he must have been in the schoolroom listening with J.C.
    I put my lips to the crack between the door and the frame.
    “Sara, it’s Jo Beth, your dog trainer. Can I come in and talk?”
    I placed my ear at the crack and heard nothing. I waited a few seconds and repeated my message.
    I glanced at my watch. Ten of my forty minutes were gone. What could they be doing in there? I agonized again over how many parents and children were inside with Sara, her bloodhound, her bridegroom, and his paramour.
    I was undecided. Should I or shouldn’t I? I wasn’t getting anywhere standing outside the door. Surely Sara wouldn’t shoot me if I eased inside. No, I couldn’t count on Sara. She also wouldn’t walk into her husband’s classroom with a shotgun, but it seemed she had, so guessing what she would do was out the window.
    I had to make a decision. Fray would be here soon and he would take over, and Hank and I would be shunted to the sidelines to stand and helplessly watch whatever unfolded.
    There were faint noises coming from the street. Car motors running, an occasional horn, and some low murmurs from the restless crowd.
    The almost silence began to gnaw at me. The halls, during school hours usually teeming with children’s voices and locker doors slamming, started feeling spooky. I found myself holding my breath so I could listen more intently.
    I braced myself, took a deep breath, and pulled the doorknob and eased the cracked door open. I entered and silently closed the door before I turned around and looked into the room. The adrenaline was flooding my circulatory system nicely and I sucked in another deep breath before trusting my voice.
    “Hello, Sara.”

   5
“Would She or Wouldn’t She?”
August 23, Friday, 9:20 P.M
.
    T he three major participants in this tragedy were up front, by Leon’s desk. Leon and Norma Jean were sitting with their legs crossed, their knees against the wall and their backs to the room. The blackboard was above them. They both turned their heads my way, and they looked scared to death. Their hands were folded in their laps and they sat like statues. After recognizing me, they swiveled their heads back in front of them and stared at the wall.
    Sara was turned, facing the door, looking at me and slouching in Leon’s chair, the shotgun resting across her legs with her finger inside the trigger guard. Her face was pale, but otherwise she looked calm and exactly like she did when she tilted her head a little tolisten to my advice in the north field where I held my training class.
    I took a quick glance to the left to see how many were in the room. They were clumped together in the right rear of the room, each in a seat with their arms folded. I counted a total of twelve. They were sitting very still but I could hear that some of them were sniffling, whimpering, and softly sobbing. I didn’t have time to see if I knew them or whether they were parents or students. I turned my gaze on Sara.
    She smiled at me. “What are you doing here, Jo Beth? Have I got one of your relatives sitting back there?”
    “No.” My voice was giving me trouble, and I coughed to cover my nervousness. “I came to help you.” I glanced down at Sherlock, who was curled in sleep. His lead was fastened to her chair.
    “Why did you bring Sherlock?”
    “I almost didn’t, but now I’m glad I did. If this family is breaking up, he should be on hand to see it, shouldn’t he?”
    “He won’t understand, Sara. He’ll be scared if you shoot that gun. He hasn’t had any training under fire. We don’t need him here, so why don’t you let me call Jasmine? She’s just down the hall and can take him for a walk.” I forced a smile. “He probably has to pee by now.”
    She laughed easily. “Is that why you’re here, to rescue Sherlock? You shouldn’t have bothered. He’s my dog now, and