Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO KNEW HER NAMEThe school went into lockdown before dismissal.
No parents were allowed inside.
No child could leave without police verification.
Every classroom door was locked.
And the German Shepherd stayed exactly where he was.
At 4:17 p.m., animal control arrived.
The dog bared its teeth.
Not at Lily.
At the truck.
The technician tried to approach with a catch pole.
The dog moved behind me.
I had never seen anything like it.
“He's afraid,” I said.
The technician shook his head.
“No. He's calculating.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he's watching everything.”
He wasn't wrong.
The dog watched the technician's hands.
Then his belt.
Then the truck.
Then the school doors.
It seemed to be memorizing the entire courtyard.
Detective Reyes crouched several feet away.
“You need a name.”
The dog stared at him.
Reyes glanced at me.
“Call him something.”
I looked at the scarred animal.
“Bear.”
His ears twitched.
Everyone noticed.
Reyes smiled slightly.
“Well, apparently Bear works.”
Inside the office, investigators reviewed camera footage.
The first strange thing appeared at 11:43 a.m.
A maintenance van entered through the rear gate.
No school vehicle was scheduled.
The second appeared at 12:07.
A man in a yellow baseball cap walked past the far fence.
His face never appeared clearly on camera.
At 12:18, he disappeared behind the cafeteria.
At 12:26, Lily went outside.
At 12:28, Bear jumped the fence.
At 12:29, Bear dragged Lily behind the dumpsters.
At 12:30, the man in the yellow hat vanished.
Reyes stared at the footage.
“Pause.”
The technician froze the frame.
The man stood near the trees.
Reyes leaned closer.
“Enhance.”
The screen sharpened slightly.
The man wasn't looking at the children.
He was looking directly at the camera.
As if he knew where it was.
Then something even stranger happened.
At 12:31, the man reappeared.
Inside the school.
He walked through the second-grade hallway.
The footage was only six seconds long.
Then the camera went black.
Reyes looked at Mrs. Holloway.
“Who has access to this wing?”
“Teachers. Staff. Custodians.”
“Anyone else?”
“Maintenance contractors.”
“Names?”
She hesitated.
“Everyone on the list.”
Reyes's eyes hardened.
“Get me the list.”
I watched the footage again.
The man walked slowly.
His left hand was inside his jacket.
His right hand carried something yellow.
A lunchbox.
I suddenly remembered Lily's words.
“He had a yellow hat.”
I went cold.
Reyes turned toward me.
“You've seen that before?”
“No.”
Then Lily spoke from the doorway.
“I have.”
We all turned.
She stood holding the nurse's stuffed rabbit.
“That man had a yellow lunchbox too.”
Reyes crouched.
“Where did you see it?”
She pointed down the hallway.
“Yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
She nodded.
“He was watching us.”
Mrs. Holloway looked horrified.
“Lily, honey, did you tell anyone?”
“I told my teacher.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
She pointed at me.
“I told you.”
My heart stopped.
“I don't remember that.”
Lily looked confused.
“You said I was imagining it.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I would never…”
Reyes looked at me.
“When?”
“Before lunch.”
Lily's voice became tiny.
“You were busy.”
A cold feeling settled over me.
Because I remembered that morning.
I remembered Lily asking to go to the library.
I remembered telling her she needed to stay with the class.
But I did not remember any conversation about a man.
Reyes replayed the hallway footage.
Then he zoomed into the man's hand.
The yellow object wasn't a lunchbox.
It was a school pickup envelope.
The kind parents used for transportation changes.
He held it as if he belonged there.
Reyes stared at the screen.
“Someone gave him access.”
He turned to the principal.
“We need every staff record from the last thirty days.”
At that exact moment, the school intercom clicked on.
A voice crackled through the speakers.
Static.
Then three quiet words.
“She's still here.”
Every person in the office froze.
Reyes reached for his weapon.
“Who's on the intercom?”
Nobody answered.
A second later, Bear erupted into barking outside.
I ran.
The hallway was empty.
The speakers continued hissing.
Then Lily screamed from behind me.
I turned.
She was pointing toward the classroom window.
A yellow lunchbox sat on the floor outside.
And taped to the lid was a note.
May you like
It had one sentence.
YOU WERE RIGHT NOT TO TRUST THE DOG.
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