Burned in Craven by C. Hope Clark

Author:C. Hope Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bell Bridge Books
Published: 2022-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

AT ALMOST DUSK, Miss Birdie walked Quinn to her truck. “Watch yourself.”

Quinn laughed once. “You’re telling me that?” On second thought, she stopped stepping into the cab and turned to her old teacher. “You willing to say who Lincoln20 is?”

Miss Birdie stood, hand on the open door. “I have no idea. I don’t think it’s a housewife or some high school kid, and like you, people think I know everybody on that group. When I couldn’t ID him, and since he wasn’t doing anything worth banning him over, I quit trying to find out. These days I mostly watch.”

“You haven’t posted in ages,” Quinn said.

The smirk went all the way to twinkle Birdie’s eyes. “Well, haven’t had to since Lincoln20. Not sure he’s even local.”

The poster’s comment on the group, I’m checking on it, when mention was made of Quinn and Iona, however, gave him a more local feel.

“Remember what I told you in there?” Birdie nodded at the house, the porch light a gentle gold aura against the aged siding.

Quinn squinted. “You sure it isn’t you?”

Birdie winked. “I’d pick a much better name.”

He did sound rather male, but a middle school kid could adeptly hide identity on social media.

Miss Birdie reached out and hugged Quinn, who squeezed in return, meaning it. “Miss Amy was a good, good woman,” Birdie said, stepping aside to let Quinn get behind the wheel. “You tread lightly, girl. I sure don’t want to be writing in the Craven Chronicle about you getting hurt, or worse.”

Quinn left, watching Miss Birdie in her rearview mirror wave goodbye, the layers of her caftan swirling around her legs in an afternoon breeze. At the road, out of sight of her old teacher, Quinn took a moment to send a group text to Ty and Jonah.

JACKET meeting in two hours. RSVP please.

She turned for home, but she hadn’t gone a mile before she heard from Jonah. A half mile further, Ty answered. Nobody turned down one of those.

SHE ARRIVED AT the manor with enough time to quickly let Bogie out, feed him, then go to her desk. With a little fast forwarding, she replayed the latest school board video when Jonah spoke his mind and announced to the world he was in charge of the Abbott farm.

Damn that videographer. She wished he’d panned the room a few times to note the troublemakers and the guests, but alert he wasn’t, or lazy he was, since he’d set his camera on a tripod, lens locked on the board and superintendent, and probably read his phone. One could barely make out the expressions on board members’ faces, much less hear them distinctly. Then at the proper moment, he turned the camera and locked on the public participation microphone. There was one broad pan of the audience at the beginning, and another when the cameraman changed from the board to the public speakers. That was it. If she could slow that down . . .

But when she did, she only noted parents. The suits weren’t there.

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