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They reached the end of the hall, and Martin opened the door. They peered out.
“Okay. See that white car?” Anne pointed at the parking lot. “The one with the red ribbon on the antenna?” White cars were popular in Florida, and Anne learned to have a ribbon on the antenna after not recognizing her vehicle in a sea of white cars.
He nodded.
“The potholes are on the driver’s side just before you hit the sidewalk.”
“I’ll get it done as soon as the rain stops,” Martin said.
He closed the door and waited for Anne to lead the way back. This was good. Nobody would get hurt by stepping in the potholes.
Anne felt Martin staring at her. She turned to face him. But he just smiled, leaving Anne with an uncomfortable feeling she wasn’t part of the joke.
* * *
Score!
Martin hoped to get close to Anne but never expected it to happen on his first day at work. She caught him cleaning in front of her room. Little did she suspect he was casing it. However, since he’d only been standing there for a minute, he didn’t see much. He looked around the corridor; no one else was moving around. As soon as he figured out her schedule, he’d try to get the backpack without anyone knowing, then disappear forever. Hopefully, it would be that easy. However, considering how his first attempt went, he wasn’t counting on anything being easy.
It looked like Anne healed okay from her accident. Wasn’t that a joke? After hitting him on the head with a lamp and kicking him, the bitch deserved what she got.
Later, he’d go back to the small room the janitors shared and see if one of the other bozos would fill in the hole.
He had no desire to get wet and muddy for a job he wasn’t planning to keep for long.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Killian stood to one side of the light-filled room, squinting and wishing he had sunglasses to put on.
Huge ceiling skylights were open to a bright sunny sky. Large panels of overhead light shone down, and painted white walls nearly blinded him.
He’d been staring at squiggles, dots and lines for hours, reminding society patrons and young children not to get too close or touch the paintings. Why the artist needed security guards was another thing until he found out how many thousands of dollars each picture would bring, and there were already sold signs on half of them.
Only another hour before he was done and could leave.
Finally, he finished his job of providing security at the gallery, wanting a beer or two. Three days of watching rich people ooh and ahh over art that made no sense to him put him in a strange mood.
Sure, he wasn’t into art, but please, could someone really tell that all the lines and splatters were metaphors for life, that an all-black canvas was a juxtaposition of peace and chaos, or that a painting of eyes and heart was a brilliant commentary on motherhood? Give him realistic art anytime.
But then, he wondered how Anne felt about art. Although she looked at kindergarten art all the time, she did have some nice watercolors in her house. Museums had never been his thing. First, his parents would never have thought to go to one. He couldn’t call the half-naked women hanging in his father’s favorite bar art. Second, no one he knew growing up ever went to a museum or even looked at art.
Would this be a deal-breaker between them? Anne never asked him to go to a museum. Was she embarrassed by his lack of sophistication?
It was later in the afternoon. Anne would leave school soon, and he thought about calling her to see if she was up for company, and maybe he would put some feelers out. They’d spoken several times on the phone, but he missed her.
The trip home took him past the school.
School had let out an hour ago. The building was dark, and the playground looked deserted. The parking lot was almost empty, but Anne’s car was still there. She’d told him Silas was going to a friend’s house after school.
He drove slowly. Should he park beside her and surprise her or just drive by?
Killian really wanted to see her. He put his blinker on. Before he could turn in to the parking lot, he noticed Anne was walking out with a man and laughing. They looked comfortable with each other.
Another teacher, perhaps? Maybe not. He knew Anne wouldn’t date anyone else, but she was clearly enjoying herself with probably another teacher. Maybe one who liked art. One who was college-educated. Not that the lack of education had ever bothered him before. Even so, he wondered if it bothered Anne.
There was nothing to do about it. Either she accepted him for himself or not. He could try to enjoy the things she liked. They spent time with both their friends. They’d gone out to dinner at … nowhere. Damn. He’d never taken her out to dinner. She probably thought he was uncouth and never used his napkin or some other silly thing.
Anne gave the guy a little wave and got into her car.
