It’s only then that I notice the mouse Christine is behind her in the stall.
“You are not using the facilities?” I ask dumbly, finally realizing we are in the women’s bathroom.
“No, you’ve always said to go into the bathroom should there be an emergency, so I figured this place would be the safest in the building.” She smiles proudly.
“Ah kotehok, yes. I am so proud of you. Come now, we will move to safer place.” Grabbing her wrist, I move out but she tugs me backward. “What is it?”
She tips her head and behind her, the girl steps out. I can’t stop my frown. I’m here to protect Daisy and no one else. Under my fierce glare, Christine wilts.
“She’s my friend,” Daisy pleads. Having a friend is important to Daisy in ways I do not understand but . . . I can deny her nothing. With a sharp jerk of my head, I motion for them both to follow.
Out in the hall, it has mostly emptied. The students are milling in the front, near the windows. If there is a shooter, many of them would be injured, not just from a bullet coming through the glass but from the shrapnel that would result on impact between the bullet and any object between it. The security guards stand there acting like sentinels, keeping people in. “We go to the roof,” I tell them. “Highest point in this building is to our advantage.”
Daisy follows me without question as we race up the stairs. The roof access is not blocked. The doors lock from the outside, rather than in, and the university’s fire code would not allow for them to be locked when the front doors are secured.
On the roof we find a small crowd of people huddled near a structure. Some are smoking. There is one man stupidly leaning over the short barrier. This is a five-story building. A gust of wind, a brush of someone’s body next to his, and he’d fall to his death.
Leading the two girls to a corner, I make them sit with their backs to the short wall. I crouch and peek over the side. The sidewalks are eerily empty. The stillness reminds me of the Christmas poem Daisy read to me . . . nothing is stirring, not even a mouse.
“Did you hear the reason?” Daisy asks. She has her arm around Christine, who is huddled into her. Christine’s coat is not designed for cold weather. Daisy should buy her a new one. I’ll mention it.
“I assume a shooter, perhaps a bomb threat, but I see no dogs.” The emptiness of the streets and the lockdown points toward a shooter. I scan the rooftops. The highest point on the campus would be the bell tower on the administration building. That’s where any smart shooter would be. I calculate the distance. There are maybe five hundred feet and two buildings between us. A large expanse of lawn with little cover between the last building and the bell tower presents a problem.
“Don’t do it,” Daisy warns.
“Do not do what?”
She swats my arm. “I see you plotting. I want you to stay here and keep me warm and safe.”
“I can keep you safe by locating the danger.” Is there movement at the bell tower? I stare, blocking out the structures and looking for any abnormality. My scope would be helpful here. I shift on the balls of my feet, ready to spring for the door.
“Nick!” Her voice is sharp, commanding, and so unlike her regular soft tones. “You need to stay here.” Her voice gentles. “Please. This isn’t our problem. It’s the school’s. Let them take care of it.”
Her soft hand rests upon my arm, nearly weightless, but I cannot move for her touch is as effective as a shackle. I sigh and then settle next to her, giving her comfort as she extends it to her friend. At least we are together. That is all that matters. We sit there in the cold wind and blowing snow until the bell tower rings signaling the all clear.
Chapter 9
Daisy
I’m really worried about Nick.
As we return to class, his gloved hand clutches mine, his grip tight and unrelenting. I don’t mind it—I know Nick is possessive. I actually like it. And I understand his quirks, his need to walk me to and from class, his need to carry a gun, the knives under the mattress he thinks I don’t know about. Nick has idiosyncrasies that I ignore, because I love him. But there are some things I cannot ignore.
There’s a wild look in his eyes right now. A tension in his shoulders. His free hand keeps flicking around his pocket, and I know he’s ready to draw his gun at any moment.
And that is a very bad thing, especially with the campus locked down because of a threat.
Thing is, even though Nick and I have a fairly new relationship, I spent years in hiding with my father. I have learned to recognize a man teetering on the edge of control, and I see that edge when I look at my Nick. He’s always so controlled, so capable of handling almost any situation that it alarms me.