CHAPTER 19

 

 

THE DIVORCE had been ugly. His wife had gotten custody of the kids and alimony. Furious, he swore she'd never get a dime. In fact, if everything worked out, he'd still be able to collect on the insurance policy he was maintaining on her. Karen was going to have a very nasty accident, the victim of a terrorist bombing. Kenny just loved the thought of the Muslims getting blamed for his ex's death. He hated anyone and anything that he didn't consider a red-blooded American.

The bomb was easier to make than he imagined, thanks to some information he had acquired from a radical militia group. They were more than willing to teach him everything he needed to know once they realized he was as patriotic as they. Three weeks at their base camp in West Virginia was enough to make him proficient at putting together small, remote-controlled bombs that could be activated by a timer or a cell phone call. Kenny had chosen the cell phone. It gave him a better opportunity to make sure Karen was in her classroom.

The school was three miles from where he lived. Everyone knew who he was so they didn't think too much about him showing up to talk to Karen. She had never told anyone about what an asshole he really was, although some suspected. Perhaps if she had, someone would have stopped and questioned him a little more, instead of taking his word that Karen had asked him to deliver some reading material she had forgotten to her classroom.

The room was empty. Everyone was at lunch. Pushing aside some supplies tucked away in a cabinet, he gently placed the bomb on the shelf and then put some papers on top of it. Shutting the door, he smirked.

Mess with me, bitch! I told you I'd get even! he thought. Walking from the room, hands in his pockets, he whistled cheerfully to himself. Several teachers gave him a strange look but didn't say anything.

Karen was having lunch with three other teachers when an aide let her know her ex-husband was on the premises.

"Damn!"

"Everything okay?" Jilly, a close friend and fellow associate, asked.

"It's Kenny. He's here."

"What the hell does that jerk want?"

"I don't know but it can't be good. Be a dear and call Frank. He was supposed to get that restraining order."

"Well, if he's like the other attorneys I know, it's still sitting on his desk, but I'll check. Want me to come along just in case?"

"No, Kenny talks a good threat but for the most part he's harmless. I just wanted the court order to keep him away from the kids and me. He can be a real pain sometimes and Sandy and Travis are scared to death of him."

"Their own father?"

"Kenny doesn't know the meaning of the word. The only reason he fought for custody was to keep from paying the child support and to piss me off."

"So why'd you ever marry the creep?"

"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you one day when we have time. Right now, I'd better go see what he wants."

Kenny was waiting for Karen on the school steps outside the main entrance. When she finally arrived, he tossed his lit cigarette down and stepped on it.

"About time you got here," he hissed.

"What do you want, Kenny?"

"I want to know why you got that fuckin' restraining order against me. How am I supposed to visit the kids?"

"Call me and we'll meet somewhere, with a police escort, of course."

Looking around to see if anyone was in hearing distance, he grinned when he found it was just Karen and him.

"Well, baby, I'll tell you what. You just keep pissing me off and I'll have to show you how a real man treats his woman."

"I know how a real man treats a woman. Maybe one day you'll be that real man, Kenny, but you sure as hell aren't one now. Is that the only reason you came here? Because if it is, I'm calling the police. It's about time you realized you can't always have your way."

Glaring ominously at her, Kenny decided he had better leave.

"Call them. You don't scare me and neither do they. Now shouldn't you be getting back to the kiddies before they tear up your room?"

"You know I don't have class for another hour-and-a-half. Geez, Kenny. You are so fucked up you can't even remember the easy stuff."

Turning her back on him, she walked into the building without looking back.

"Oh, I remember," he smirked. "I remember everything." Looking at his watch, he grinned. Only three more hours and the kids would be gone, leaving just Karen in the classroom. He had debated on whether to set the bomb off while they were present or wait. He had decided that waiting was a better solution. He really didn't want to be responsible for anyone else's death, just his ex-wife's. Besides, if he set the bomb off too soon, someone might connect his visit to the explosion.

After leaving Kenny, Karen went to the principal's office to tell Mr. Johnston what was going on. She had deliberately tried to keep her private life just that, but now realized it was a mistake. Stopping outside the door, she ran into the teacher Kenny had talked to just before entering the school.

"Hey, Karen, did Kenny get a hold of you? He's got those books you forgot."

"What books?" she asked, frowning.

"The ones for your assignment. I saw him about thirty minutes ago and he said you asked him to bring them."

Karen could feel her heart pounding.

"What did he do with them?"

"Oh, I saw him going into your classroom with them. I guess you missed each other. Well, gotta run. See you later."

"Shit!" she muttered under her breath, trying to think clearly. "What the hell is he up to?"

Shaking her head, she knocked on the door and heard a loud voice yell for her to come in.

"Sorry for interrupting your lunch, Mr. Johnston, but I think we may have a problem."

Quickly outlining the details of her meeting with Kenny and her conversation with her associate, she voiced her concerns about her ex-husband's actions.

"Maybe we'd better go check the room," he suggested.

Everything looked normal. Nothing was out of place or changed around since going to lunch. Pulling open her desk drawers, she shuffled the files nervously. Then she looked under and inside each student desk while the principal checked the cabinets. Relieved, she looked at the principal.

"Sorry, Mr. Johnston, maybe I'm just paranoid."

"No problem, Karen. It's better to be safe than sorry."

It was when she walked past the last cabinet near her desk that she noticed several books on the windowsill. Frowning, she tried to remember why they would be there instead of inside one of the cabinets.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." Picking up the books, she turned them over and looked at the titles. "I'm sure I kept these in the cabinet."

When she opened the door, she noticed several objects had been shifted and documents placed at odd angles. Hand shaking, she gently picked up the papers and immediately spotted a small, brown, nylon bag pushed against the back wall. Heart pounding, she inhaled and then slowly exhaled. Her hands trembled slightly as she backed slowly toward the door, trying to remain calm.

"Clear the building," she whispered, afraid that speaking in a normal tone would set the bomb off. "I think the bastard planted a bomb in here."