Page 36 of Watch Me Burn

Affirming my suspicions, Mr. Lautner said, “We all liked him, and boy did we try and invite him places to get to know him better. But he preferred to keep to himself.”

I glanced at Ethan. That didn’t line up at all with the entries we compiled the other day. Or the memories of my dad. He was on the road . . . a lot! On different school trips or teacher getaways. What the hell was Mr. Lautner talking about?

I rummaged through my purse and retrieved the notebook where I had transcribed my father’s journal entries. “Does any of this ring a bell?” I pointed at different events that were scheduled in his calendar—and not just any events. Team-building camping trips and after-school hangouts. I remembered some myself, and one of these trips even mentioned Lautner’s name.

Mr. Lautner looked at the logs blankly. “I’ve never heard of team-building camping trips or teacher getaways in my life before—maybe he was close to some other Mr. Lautner, but that ain’t me.” Noting our crushed expressions, he tried to sprinkle a glint of insight into his story. “I will say, your dad wasn’t one to hold himself to commitments, so maybe he wanted to do all this with the other teachers but life got in the way, especially with his young kids at home.”

Abruptly, Mr. Lautner reeled forward in his chair. “Oh! That reminds me: he cared a lot about his students. He was popular among the student body because of how down to earth he was—those kids thought the rest of us were old idiots, but not your dad.”

Having attended the same high school, I already knew precisely what he spoke of. My dad’s passing left a dent in the school atmosphere—people talked about how he volunteered to coach the girls’ sports teams and was extra lenient about students’ behavior in his classes.

“He really was an inspiration among the students,” Mr. Lautner reflected. “His death rattled all of us. It still shakes me to this day, how a good man could be taken away like that when filthy people are allowed to walk the face of this earth.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving more notebooks entries in front of Mr. Lautner’s face. “Mr. Lautner, I understand all of this was a long time ago. But don’t you remember any of these teacher trips?”

Mr. Lautner scraped his chair back in bewilderment. “Why would I lie? I’m telling you, none of these trips took place.” Mr. Lautner adjusted his collar. “John was a nice guy. I liked him just as much as anyone else in the school. But I’m afraid these events were a fabrication on his end.”

To suggest my dead father was a liar . . . pissed me off! “Maybe you should think again. I remember some of these trips clearly. He had actually canceled a trip to my cancer-sick grandma for one of these team-building trips. I remember him and my mom fighting about it as if it was yesterday. And now you’re saying he made all of this up?”

Mr. Lautner was now glistening with sweat. His unusual discomfort made me curious. He praised my father as a remarkable man, yet oddly called him a liar. I couldn’t help but wonder, was he keeping something under wraps?

“I . . . really don’t know anything about these trips or why he didn’t come home after school,” he muttered, scratching his head furiously. “All I can think of is the after-school tutoring he volunteered for. It was targeted toward his lower-performing students. I agree it is unusual for your father’s schedule to be so tightly packed considering what I knew of him, but it is possible that he was so dedicated to his volunteer efforts that it occupied all those hours.”

I could see my father being the generous helper within his faculty, but I couldn’t see why he’d fail to disclose that in his personal journal. Or more so . . .

“Why wouldn’t he be sleeping at home if he really just tutored after hours at the school? It makes no sense.”

Mr. Lautner shrugged reluctantly as he tugged his ear.

A sign of lying.

“I can’t quite say. But maybe one of his former students can. John, being the magnetic personality he was, interacted with so many of them. He was one of the most popular teachers at the school.”

I slumped onto the park bench in defeat. Something about Mr. Lautner’s explanation felt off, but I didn’t know where to poke holes in it.

Thankfully, Ethan was there with me to fill the gaps I didn’t know remained.

“So, help me out here,” Ethan said in a firm voice. “You are saying you have no idea why your name is on a teachers’ trip he took right before he was murdered? You do realize how this looks.”

My eyes darted to him in surprise—good one, Ethan!

Mr. Lautner appeared genuinely confused. “What? What are you saying? I know nothing about a teachers’ trip.” He waved his fingers dismissively, treating the conversation as the most ludicrous he’d ever endured. Then, he repeatedly tugged at his ear. Ethan watched this gesture with narrowed eyes, growing more suspicious.

Ethan laced his fingers intimidatingly, leaning forward on the table, his gladiator-like figure a reminder of who he was. “You see, Lautner, if there is one thing I learned in the fifteen years I was rotting away in prison for something I didn’t do . . . it’s reading people. In there, we are animals. And animals need to know what the other animal is up to, or you might end up dead. So if you tug your god damn ear one more time and lie to me—”

I jumped in at the moment Lautner’s hand shot to his throat in utter shock. “It’s been a long time,” I said in a soft voice. “Why hide anything that could help find my dad’s real killer? One day, we all have to answer to somebody.” I nodded up into the sky hoping Mr. Lautner was religious. His gaze followed mine upwards as if God himself was now watching us. Good. It was working. “The truth can not only set us free, but also shine a light onto us for everybody to see.”

Mr. Lautner briefly sucked in a deep breath as if it was needed to free himself of a heavy weight on his shoulders. Then he nodded. “I . . . I do remember walking in on two girls’ conversation in the hallway after class once. They mentioned your father’s name and a trip to the beach.”

“Why is that so unusual?” Ethan asked.

Lautner sighed. “Because one of them was . . . crying.”

Ethan and I leant back in silence.

Students crying over my father’s alleged trip to the beach only deepened the mystery, leaving more questions than answers in their wake.

I cautiously reviewed the notebook and was shocked to catch what I did.

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