The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) by A.J. Flynn (early reader books .txt) 📗

final day of school? If he was planning on changing his music to have it ready by the deadline, he must have expected to have it back to him at least by yesterday.”

Hardwood pondered this for a moment. “No. No, he didn’t. That was a busy day for me and excepting actual class time, I spent very little time in my room. I never had time to speak privately with any of my pupils.”

McPherson gathered up the papers and slid them back inside the envelope.

“I appreciate you bringing these down. It’s possible they’ll be of help, but right now I’ll be damned if I can see how.”

Hardwood rose and extended his hand. “I’m glad I can help. Let me know if you’ve had any luck.”

They shook hands and Hardwood left.

McPherson stayed long enough to type out a report on the envelope and, after listing it for immediate attention, grabbed her coat and hat and started for home.

XVI

It had been two days in hell for Harry Valentine. He had done his best to keep it a private hell, but it was nonetheless real to him.

He hadn’t been able to get any sleep since his interview with the police lieutenant, and though he had gone to work today, he might as well have just stayed home, for what little he was able to accomplish. Every car that pulled to a stop outside his place of business was looked at as a potential threat. Every unexpected noise caused him to jump like a frightened horse.

By mid-afternoon he couldn’t take it any more. He’d told the office girl that he felt like a cold was coming on, and had left.

A drive around town had calmed him a little. Everything appeared so normal. People hurrying along their way, each one wrapped up in his own problems, not a single one of them interested in him or his. Most of the time it wasn’t clear whether or not they even knew he existed.

He could keep it that way, he said to himself. People were always the same everywhere you went. Unless you did something that called attention to yourself, you could walk among them for eternity and they would never know you were there.

He just couldn’t muster the guts to stick it out. He had to go on the run, and he had to somehow keep Hayley from finding out.

She had always been the stronger of the two. He knew it, but he never let her know that he knew it. If she even suspected what he was up to, she would find some way of holding him back. Maybe she felt it as her duty, or maybe it stemmed from her love towards him, but whatever her reasons, if he let slip even so much as a hint of his plan, she would surely find a way to talk him out of it.

Once he had made his decision, he drove home. Their house was completely empty, Hayley wouldn’t be back home for at least two more hours.

He picked up a suitcase from the utility closet and began gathering up the few clothes he dared to take. Even though he was alone, he moved as quietly and carefully as a cat stalking its prey.

Shorts and socks were not easily missed from his drawers, but it seemed wisest to him to take a coat and a pair of pants from the back of the closet. Hayley knew just how particular he was about his clothes and kept keen track of them. He felt a heavy pang of regret as he thought of leaving her, but he knew she would never be able to understand how he felt.

She couldn’t understand how the high grey walls, each one solid and impregnable, could stand over a man laughing at him until they had rotted his very soul. She couldn’t understand how often he woke from nightmares of those walls, dripping with sweat. If he was forced to go back he would die. Like a plant that’s been shut away from the light, he’d dry up and die.

When he’d packed what little clothes he dared, he brought the suitcase out with him to the garage. Hayley never looked in the car trunk, so he figured he was safe in putting it there.

While he locked up the trunk, he noticed a boxful of clothing Hayley had gathered for charity, and he remembered that his army clothes were in it. It had been years since his discharge, but for some reason, Hayley had kept his summer uniform.

He rummaged through the box and found his pants and shirt. He looked them over carefully and sighed with relief. Without their insignia they looked like plain olive-colored work clothes. He took out his pocket knife and cut the thread that was holding the brightly colored patches. Once they were off he unlatched the trunk and put them alongside the suitcase.

Nobody would ever connect the man wearing work clothes with the dapper Harry Valentine.

Keep to your ordinary routine, he told himself, as he made his way back into the house. Just do the things you do every night.

Back in the kitchen he put on a pot of coffee. He would have preferred a drink, but he seldom touched the stuff and he wasn’t quite sure how it might affect him.

While he waited for his coffee, he sifted through the freezer for something to eat. Whenever he returned home earlier than Hayley, he was always the one who got things started. The coffee had just finished dripping when the phone rang.

He answered it and heard Hayley’s familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, babe, but I’ll have to work late tonight. We just received a big shipment of new items and Miss Vanity insists we have to do the inventory tonight, so we can unpack everything tomorrow. I’m afraid I won’t be back in until late.”

He could have cried with relief. Talk about luck. Now he wouldn’t have to worry