Chapter 3 - THE NOTE UNDER THE LUNCHBOXNobody touched the lunchbox.
Crime scene tape went up around it.
The note was photographed, bagged, and placed into evidence.
But the words stayed in my head.
You were right not to trust the dog.
Someone knew exactly what Lily had seen.
Someone knew we were suspicious.
Someone was still watching the school.
The investigation became much larger overnight.
By 9 p.m., the district superintendent had arrived.
By 10 p.m., two more police units were stationed outside.
Parents crowded the parking lot demanding answers.
The school board wanted to know how an unknown person had entered a secured campus.
Nobody had an explanation.
At 11:15 p.m., Reyes entered the conference room carrying a folder.
“We found the van.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“Abandoned three blocks away.”
“Who owns it?”
“That part gets interesting.”
He laid photographs on the table.
The van belonged to a company called North Valley Property Services.
They handled maintenance contracts for twenty-three schools.
Mrs. Holloway frowned.
“We use them.”
“Did you today?”
“No.”
Reyes slid another photo toward us.
The driver's seat contained a stack of school maps.
Not one school.
Seven.
Each had markings.
Each had red circles.
Each red circle was placed around playground areas.
I stared.
“Why would someone map playgrounds?”
Reyes didn't answer.
He pointed to one.
“Our school.”
Then another.
“Lakeside Elementary.”
Then another.
“Pine Ridge.”
Seven schools.
Seven playgrounds.
I felt sick.
“Has anyone contacted the other schools?”
“Yes.”
“Anything happen?”
“Not yet.”
He opened the final file.
“This is where it gets worse.”
Inside the van, investigators found disposable gloves.
Rope.
A flashlight.
Two bottles of sedative.
And twelve printed photographs.
Every photograph showed children.
None were older than eight.
I looked away.
Reyes noticed.
“We don't know if all these children were targets.”
“Lily?”
He hesitated.
“Her photo was there.”
Nobody spoke.
Mrs. Holloway covered her mouth.
Mr. Davis slammed his hand on the table.
“This isn't random.”
“No,” Reyes said.
“It isn't.”
I stared at him.
“Then what is it?”
Reyes pulled out another photograph.
It showed Lily standing alone near the playground fence.
The date stamp read:
NOVEMBER 14.
Three days before.
My chair scraped backward.
“That was Friday.”
“Correct.”
“School was closed Friday afternoon.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the photo.
Lily was standing exactly where she'd been standing Monday.
Same pink coat.
Same fence.
Same winter boots.
“What is she doing here?”
Reyes looked at me.
“We don't know.”
I studied the background.
There was something behind her.
A white sign.
A tree.
A shape near the fence.
I leaned closer.
“Zoom in.”
The image enlarged.
The shape sharpened.
A man.
Standing behind the fence.
Watching Lily.
My hands went cold.
“He was there Friday too.”
Reyes nodded.
“Which means he wasn't just watching her Monday.”
He had been tracking her.
For days.
Maybe longer.
The next morning, the school reopened under police supervision.
Bear was still outside.
I brought him water.
He refused it.
I crouched.
“You saved her.”
His ears lifted.
“You knew.”
He stared at me.
“You knew someone was there.”
His head turned toward the woods.
I followed his gaze.
“What's out there?”
He walked to the fence.
Sniffed.
Then began pawing at the ground.
I called Reyes.
Within minutes, officers were digging.
Thirty centimeters down, they found a plastic container.
Inside was a notebook.
The first page contained names.
Child after child.
Grade after grade.
The second page contained dates.
The third contained routines.
Lunch.
Recess.
Bus.
Pickup.
At the bottom of one page was a sentence written in red ink.
SHE DOESN'T KNOW YET THAT HER FATHER LEFT HER SOMETHING.
I looked at Lily's name.
Then the page beneath it.
There was only one word.
THURSDAY.
Today.
I looked at the clock.
8:42 a.m.
Three hours until recess.
Reyes immediately ordered the school evacuated.
But as teachers rushed children toward the front doors, Bear began growling at the ceiling.
I looked up.
There was someone walking across the roof.
A figure in a yellow cap.
May you like
And he wasn't trying to escape.
He was running directly toward the skylight above Lily's classroom.
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