Page 40 of Wounded Dance
But as we drive up, I don’t see him sitting in the driver’s seat. Is he lying down, maybe? Sleeping? My anxiety grows a little.
Then I spot him. He’s walking along the sidewalk. We’re about to come up right alongside him!
I frantically dig through my bag for sunglasses, but they aren’t there. “How tinted are these windows?” I ask.
“Not as good up here as in the back,” Ted says.
Shoot. I turn my face away from the sidewalk as we turn in, but I know it’s too late. Denham’s seen me.
“What’s he doing?” I ask Ted.
“Is that the guy?”
“Yes.”
“He’s staring at the car.”
“Does he seem like he saw me?”
“He’s following us on foot.”
My heart races. “Don’t park in the back. He’ll know that’s what we’ve been doing.”
Ted abruptly turns into a spot at the side of the building. “He’s pretty close. You want me to take him down?”
“No,” I say. “Let me think.”
I might as well look. Denham hangs out on the sidewalk a little longer, as if he’s trying to decide what to do. We’ve turned so that my side of the car faces the street, so he’s only a few yards away. Our eyes meet.
“He seems jumpy,” Ted says.
“He does,” I agree.
“I think I should have a word with him.”
I hold out my arm. “No. Maybe I’ll just skip dance.”
“He might follow us.”
“He doesn’t have much gas,” I say. But of course, that was yesterday. He might have filled up last night.
We continue to sit there, and then it seems like Denham makes up his mind. He steps into the parking lot, his face hard and determined. I think he’s going to approach our SUV, but he storms past it and goes up the steps of the academy.
“That can’t be good,” I say.
“You want me to go in with you?” Ted asks.
“We could leave now,” I say. “He couldn’t follow.”
Ted puts his hands on the gearshift to move into reverse, but I say, “Wait.”
He settles back. “We’ll wait.”
The wind rushes through the trees in front of our windshield. I shiver. What is Denham doing in there? Demanding to see a list of all the four-year-old girls?
He can’t know she’s here. He just can’t.
My phone buzzes. I pull it from my dance bag.
