the jury from the circumstantial evidence? Or would it have led the police to search the woman’s house? That would have been disaster for certain.
No. He’d done the right thing.
He took the dishes into the kitchen and began rinsing them in the sink, set low and accessible. Justine’s little mistake—driving with a blood alcohol level double the legal limit and crashing into a two-hundred-year-old tree—had left her legs paralyzed. But it had also brought her to Hollis. At seventeen, he’d been working as a helper to the contractor who revamped this house to accommodate Justine’s new limitations.
By the time the job was done, Hollis had made himself indispensable to her—errands, odd jobs, and the like. Plus, her limited mobility only compounded her already introverted behavior; she’d been hungry for his friendship. And that friendship had given him the ability to expand his hobby.
If the police had found what was in Justine’s basement . . . well, things would have been a whole lot worse than fifteen years in prison.
C HAPTER E IGHT
A lthough memories had stolen her sleep, Ellis looked out on the early morning with a sense of purpose. It was time to put thoughts of Laura and Nate and Hollis Alexander away. To-day she would be proactive, focus on something that would protect girls from the Hollis Alexanders of this world. It was the first day of the self-defense class she taught each summer, a class that mothers who remembered Laura’s attack insisted their daughters take.
Before bed last night, she’d dutifully set the gun on her nightstand. On her way to the shower, Ellis looked at it sitting there with all of its deadly little bullets tucked in their chambers. She wanted to bury the damn thing in the back of her desk drawer again. But she’d promised her dad. She picked it up and tucked it inside her purse before she finished her morning routine.
At nine o’clock, she stood waiting in the shady area in Blue Heron Park. It sat at the very edge of downtown Belle Island, allowing most of her students to arrive on bicycles and on foot. In this community, twelve-year-old girls weren’t afraid to walk or bike wherever they needed to go. Ellis envied them.
The girls gathered around her, sitting in a semicircle on the coarse grass. She’d had all of them in her fourthgrade class at one time, and the way most of them were looking up at her said they still thought she was youngnew-teacher cool. Good. That gave her a fighting chance to make what she taught here stick.
None of these girls had been born yet when Laura had been attacked. Time and forgetfulness led to complacency. Most of these kids felt as she had at their age; they lived in a world cocooned from the evils that dwelt beyond the long bridge across the estuary. And that somehow those evils did not even think to cross that bridge.
“It’s good to see all of you again,” she began. “We’ll be meeting here for three weeks. This class is going to be pretty physical, so I want you to make sure you wear old clothes from here on out.” She picked up the stacks of two pamphlets she’d created,
Predators
and
Self-Defense Common Sense,
and handed them to the girls. “Pass these around. Feel free to take some for friends who aren’t joining us. I want you to share what you learn here with every girl you know. It could save her life.
“Lots of what we discuss will be common sense, but don’t take it lightly. The best way to survive an attack is to avoid it in the first place. Criminals look for weak or distracted victims. You’re going to learn to project an air of confidence and to be aware of your surroundings.”
“Miss Greene.” Jessie Baker raised her hand as if they were in school. “My momma said your cousin was kidnapped from her bedroom—right here in Belle Island. Is that true?”
“Yes, Jessie, it’s true. Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, trouble still finds you.” Ellis kept right on talking, discouraging
No. He’d done the right thing.
He took the dishes into the kitchen and began rinsing them in the sink, set low and accessible. Justine’s little mistake—driving with a blood alcohol level double the legal limit and crashing into a two-hundred-year-old tree—had left her legs paralyzed. But it had also brought her to Hollis. At seventeen, he’d been working as a helper to the contractor who revamped this house to accommodate Justine’s new limitations.
By the time the job was done, Hollis had made himself indispensable to her—errands, odd jobs, and the like. Plus, her limited mobility only compounded her already introverted behavior; she’d been hungry for his friendship. And that friendship had given him the ability to expand his hobby.
If the police had found what was in Justine’s basement . . . well, things would have been a whole lot worse than fifteen years in prison.
C HAPTER E IGHT
A lthough memories had stolen her sleep, Ellis looked out on the early morning with a sense of purpose. It was time to put thoughts of Laura and Nate and Hollis Alexander away. To-day she would be proactive, focus on something that would protect girls from the Hollis Alexanders of this world. It was the first day of the self-defense class she taught each summer, a class that mothers who remembered Laura’s attack insisted their daughters take.
Before bed last night, she’d dutifully set the gun on her nightstand. On her way to the shower, Ellis looked at it sitting there with all of its deadly little bullets tucked in their chambers. She wanted to bury the damn thing in the back of her desk drawer again. But she’d promised her dad. She picked it up and tucked it inside her purse before she finished her morning routine.
At nine o’clock, she stood waiting in the shady area in Blue Heron Park. It sat at the very edge of downtown Belle Island, allowing most of her students to arrive on bicycles and on foot. In this community, twelve-year-old girls weren’t afraid to walk or bike wherever they needed to go. Ellis envied them.
The girls gathered around her, sitting in a semicircle on the coarse grass. She’d had all of them in her fourthgrade class at one time, and the way most of them were looking up at her said they still thought she was youngnew-teacher cool. Good. That gave her a fighting chance to make what she taught here stick.
None of these girls had been born yet when Laura had been attacked. Time and forgetfulness led to complacency. Most of these kids felt as she had at their age; they lived in a world cocooned from the evils that dwelt beyond the long bridge across the estuary. And that somehow those evils did not even think to cross that bridge.
“It’s good to see all of you again,” she began. “We’ll be meeting here for three weeks. This class is going to be pretty physical, so I want you to make sure you wear old clothes from here on out.” She picked up the stacks of two pamphlets she’d created,
Predators
and
Self-Defense Common Sense,
and handed them to the girls. “Pass these around. Feel free to take some for friends who aren’t joining us. I want you to share what you learn here with every girl you know. It could save her life.
“Lots of what we discuss will be common sense, but don’t take it lightly. The best way to survive an attack is to avoid it in the first place. Criminals look for weak or distracted victims. You’re going to learn to project an air of confidence and to be aware of your surroundings.”
“Miss Greene.” Jessie Baker raised her hand as if they were in school. “My momma said your cousin was kidnapped from her bedroom—right here in Belle Island. Is that true?”
“Yes, Jessie, it’s true. Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, trouble still finds you.” Ellis kept right on talking, discouraging
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