Jack & Jill

reminded him. “I get afraid sometimes, too. Beavis and Butt-head scares me. Ren and Stimpy, too.”
    Damon smiled, and he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m afraid sometimes, yeah. I was shivering on our first day back. Our school isn’t going to close down, is it?”
    I smiled on the inside, but kept a straight face. “No, there’ll be classes as usual tomorrow. Homework, too.”
    “I did it already,” Damon answered defensively. Nana has him a little too sensitive about grades, but that probably isn’t so terribly bad. “I get mostly all A’s, just like you.”
    “Mostly all A’s,” I laughed. “What kind of sentence is that?”
    “Accurate.” He grinned like a young hyena who had just been told a pretty good joke on the Serengeti.
    I grabbed Damon in a loose, playful headlock. I gently slid my knuckles over the top of his short haircut. Noogies. He was okay for now. He was strong, and he was a good person. I love him like crazy, and I wanted him to always know that.
    Damon wiggled out of the headlock. He
danced
a fancy Sugar Ray Leonard-style two-step and fired a few quick, testing punches at my stomach. He was showing me what a tough little cub he was. I had no doubt about it.
    Right about then I noticed someone leaving the school building. It was the same woman I’d seen in the early morning of Shanelle Green’s murder. The one who had blown me away then. She was watching Damon and me tussle on the sidewalk. She had stopped walking to watch us.
    She was tall and slender, almost six feet. I couldn’t see her face very well in the shadows of the school building. I remembered her from the other morning, though-I remembered her self-confidence, a sense of mystery I’d felt about her.
    She waved, and Damon waved back. Then she headed down to the same dark blue Mercedes, which was parked up against the wall of the building.
    “You know her?” I asked.
    “That’s the new principal of our school,” Damon informed me. “That’s Mrs. Johnson.”
    I nodded.
Mrs. Johnson.
“She works late. I’m impressed. How do you like Mrs. Johnson?” I asked Damon as I watched her walk to her car. I remembered that Nana had talked about the principal and been very positive about her, calling her “inspirational” and saying she had a sweet disposition.
    She was certainly attractive, and seeing her made my heart ache just a little. The truth was, I missed not having someone in my life. I was getting over a complicated friendship I’d had with a woman—Kate McTiernan. I had been working a lot, avoiding the whole issue that fall. I was still avoiding it that night.
    Damon didn’t hesitate with his answer to my question. “I like her. Everybody likes Mrs. Johnson. She’s tough, though. She’s even tougher than you are, Daddy,” he said.
    She didn’t look so tough with her Mercedes sedan, but I had no reason hot to believe my son. She was definitely brave to be in the school alone at night. Maybe a little too brave.
    “Let’s head on home,” I finally said to Damon. “I just remembered this is a school night for you.”
    “Let’s stay up and watch the Bullets play the Orlando Magic,” he coaxed and grabbed onto my elbow.
    “Oh—sure. No,’ let’s get Jannie up and we’ll all pull an all-nighter,” I said and laughed loudly. We both laughed, sharing the jokey moment.
    I slept in with the kids that night I was definitely not over the murder at the Truth School. Sometimes, we’ll throw blankets and pillows on the floor and sleep there as if we were homeless. It gives Nana fits, but I believe she thrives on her fits, so we make certain she has one every other week or so.
    As I lay there with my eyes open, and both kids sleeping peacefully, I couldn’t help thinking about Shanelle Green. It was the last thing I needed to think about.
Why had someone brought the body back to the schoolyard?
I wondered. There are always loose ends on cases, but this one made no sense, so it concerned me. It was a piece that didn’t fit in a puzzle that was supposed to be finished.
    Then I began thinking about Mrs. Johnson for a moment or two. That was a better place to be.
She’s even tougher than you are. Daddy.
What a glowing recommendation from my little man. It was almost a dare.
Everybody likes Mrs. Johnson,
Damon had said.
    I wondered what her first name was. I made a wild guess—
Christine.
The name just came to me.
Christine.
I liked the sound of it in my head.
    I finally nodded off to sleep. I slept