Thread of Hope (The Joe Tyler Series, #1) Read Online Free PDF

crap.  He did a lot of stupid things but he wouldn’t sleep with an underage kid.  Not in a million years.  But the fact that he now seemed to be doing other things that I wouldn’t have expected had my mind spinning.
     
    I got up the following morning and, after a light breakfast, headed back over the bridge to the island.
     
    There is nothing spectacular looking about Coronado High School.  Originally built in 1912, it still occupies the same location off of D Avenue where it was initially established.  It had slowly grown to a four-block campus extending west toward H Avenue, a neat rectangle of small two-story Spanish style stucco buildings dotted with palm trees and striped with long medians of green grass. I knew that the school had undergone some capital improvements–refurbished classrooms, a new library, an entirely separate arts center–but from the exterior, it was the same school I’d attended nearly twenty-five years earlier.
     
    There was no school parking lot and cars ringed the streets around the campus.  It was like a convention of expensive cars.  BMWs, Land Rovers, Saabs and a few Porsches lined the curbs.  Even though most of the students lived within walking distance, the kids at Coronado knew how to get to school.
     
    Students were hanging around aimlessly on the shallow steps in front of the administrative building.  They didn’t seem to notice that I was there, that I was older than they were and that I wasn’t dressed as well.  It was Abercrombie and Fitch everywhere, like the catalog had come to life, complete with the models.  Tan skin, shiny hair, expensive jewelry, boys and girls who looked twenty-five rather than seventeen. 
     
    As old as the school was, Lana McCauley seemed nearly as old.   She’d been there when I was a student and she was still there when I walked in that morning.
     
    “Joseph Tyler,” she said, smiling.  “Class of ’88.”
     
    Despite my conflicted feelings about why I was back on campus, I smiled.  It was what Lana was famous for.  Within one month of your freshman year, she knew your name and never forgot it.  Ever.
     
    “Hello, Mrs. McCauley,” I said.  “How are you?”
     
    She spread her arms across the desk in front of her.  “Just making sure things stay on track, as always.”
     
    “As always.”
     
    Her phone beeped and she held up a finger.  She answered the phone, transferred the call and focused on me again.  “I’m surprised to see you here, Joseph.”
     
    “Why’s that?”
     
    She tented her fingers.  “I didn’t know you were back on Coronado.”
     
    “Just got back yesterday.”
     
    She studied me for a moment.  “Well, it’s a pleasure to see you.  How can I help you?”
     
    I knew she must’ve had a hundred different questions, like everyone else I used to know would.  The difference was that Lana had the dignity not to blurt them out.
     
    There were several different things I could’ve told her.  But these days in a school, it was best not to mess around.  And I didn’t want to insult Lana. 
     
    “I’m investigating an incident with a current student here,” I said.  “Meredith Jordan.”
     
    Lana McCauley’s smile thinned.  “I cannot allow you to speak with a student on the campus, Joseph, unless you are accompanied by the parents of that student.  I’m sorry.”  She said it with a tone that implied she knew I wasn’t there with the girl’s parents.
     
    “Certainly, I understand,” I said, anticipating her response.  “Could I ask you a question or two?”
     
    “It’s not my place, Joseph.”
     
    “Nothing too hard, I promise.”
     
    “It’s not the difficulty that would be the problem.”
     
    I smiled.  Only a fool would attempt to fool Lana.  “Was Chuck Winslow employed here?”
     
    “I cannot comment on that,” she said.  “You’ll have to inquire at the district offices.  I can give you their contact information.”
     
    The Coronado