I step back and eyeball the building. Maybe someone left another door unlocked somewhere. I could circle the building to the back, but it’s a long row of connected buildings and I can’t tell how far I would have to walk.
Breaking a window is out of the question. An icy gust of wind blows against my back.
Unless death is the only other option.
Think, Vivien, think!
The bobby pin.
I can jimmy the lock with it. I had to do it one time on The Other Side of Ordinary. It was the only time my character stepped up and saved the boys, so I did all kinds of research on pin-tumbler mechanisms, wanting to get the scene just right. I was twelve though, so that was like seventeen years ago.
Kneeling by the front door, I remove my gloves and attack the lock with the hairpin like my life depends on it. Because it might.
After working at it for ten minutes, nothing is happening except my fingers getting more and more numb by the second.
Time ceases to have meaning. All that exists is me, the cold, and this damn lock that I swear I will defeat if it takes me all night.
A white light flashes across the brick building and then settles on me like a spotlight.
I straighten. What the?—?
“Ma’am, step away from the door and raise your hands in the air,” an authoritative voice rings out.
Chapter Two
Spencer
* * *
“Hold still so your head doesn’t fall off.” For the tenth time, I slather the parrot’s head with glue and then press the beak against it.
“Do you think it will work this time?” Benji stares up at me, his big blue eyes hopeful.
I’m not sure why Carter thought it would be a great idea to let all the kids choose their favorite animal to dress up as for the Valentine’s Day play.
This whole thing has been chaos from the jump. He wrote the play around the kids’ chosen characters, which changed daily—because they’re kids. Last night was the dress rehearsal, which was basically improvised pandemonium, even when they managed to stay somewhat on script.
He needs a new school secretary since the last one got married and moved to Boston. She helped him organize his harebrained ideas. He is losing his mind running the school without help.
“It will work this time.”
My phone dings. I ignore it. The last time I answered it was some kind of prank. I bet Peggy and the ladies are drinking again. They love to mess with me.
There’s a tug on my arm, and Benji’s beak clatters to the ground.
I choke back the curse that wants to fly out of my mouth.
“Mr. Spencer, the cupid isn’t here yet.” The tugger is Chloe. She is in second grade with Benji. She is missing her front teeth, and she’s wearing a rainbow shirt with a sparkly purple mermaid-fin-shaped skirt.
Cupid is James, the first grade teacher. We needed someone to actually represent the holiday.
“He’ll be here.” I pick up the beak and slather more paste on it. This thing is going to stick if I have to coat the whole damn kid in glue.
“Actually, he won’t be here.” An adult voice this time, Carter. The school principal and the reason I’m here wrangling small children instead of where I should be, holed up in front of a fire at home.
I’ve known Carter since I was eight and he was five and we lived next door to each other. He used to beg me for my pudding cup every day. His lunches were always full of gourmet wraps, sushi, or spiced meats and cheese imported from Europe. He has those same pleading dark brown eyes now, just a couple decades older.
“What do you want, Carter?”
