Free A Hoe Lot of Trouble by Heather Webber

next message, though, erased all my good humor. "This is Robert MacKenna. I'm the vice principal at Freedom High. I need to speak to you about your son, Riley. If you could call me at your earliest convenience I would appreciate it."
    My mouth went dry as he read off the number. I made a quick grab for a pencil and copied it down. Oh, Riley, Riley .
    The third message was a lot of heavy breathing and a hang-up. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. It was too coincidental and I didn't believe in coincidences—it's another one of my personal commandments.
    My appetite vanished. I rewrapped the bread. And keeping a tight hold on the hockey stick, I checked the locks on all the doors.

Six

    As I drove to the high school to meet with Vice Principal MacKenna, I tried to ignore the memory of the hang-up phone call. It was probably just a wrong number.
    Probably.
    Definitely.
    This wasn't merely an example of self-delusion—it really wasn't. I was flat-out lying to myself.
    After I had arranged to meet with Riley's vice principal, I had called Kevin. After dodging his questions regarding the Sandowskis, I told him about the call from the school and mentioned the magazine under Riley's mattress. Kevin hadn't seemed overly concerned, but agreed to meet the vice principal with me.
    Flipping on my blinker, I turned right into the high school's parking lot.
    It must have been between bells because the halls were filled with teens. I spied the office and was walking toward it when someone grabbed my arm.
    Whirling, I came face to face with a very angry Riley. His hand dropped as soon as I turned around.
    "What are you doing here?" he whispered, looking stricken.
    I stepped back. "I have an appointment to see your vice principal."
    "Why?"
    He seemed nervous, continually looking over his left shoulder. Following his gaze, I saw a group of boys huddled near a row of lockers.
    Troublemakers. Not smash-your-mailbox troublemakers, but the real deal: drugs, stealing cars, shoplifting . . . You could tell by just looking at them. What was Riley doing?
    I tried to control my temper, to not lash out and shake him until he came to his senses. I swayed slightly, a bit dizzy. "I don't know why he called me. Is there something I should know?"
    "No."
    My right eyebrow rose. My eyebrows were, as I liked to say, my built-in bullshit meters. The more crap I heard, the higher they arched.
    "Who are those boys?"
    "Friends of mine."
    "Since when?"
    "Since whenever."
    I stared at him. Blinked. "Those weren't the clothes you had on when you left this morning."
    Gone was the red and green, replaced now with black from head to toe.
    The bell rang.
    "Hey, man, you coming?"
    That from a boy wearing a charming metal-studded black leather coat and spiked dog collar. His lip was pierced and his hair was black with blonde polka dots. Very original. Now I knew where Riley's latest hairstyle had come from.
    Riley caught my gaze and muttered something under his breath I couldn't understand. He swiveled and walked away without answering me. My stomach twisted as he blended in with the group of troublemakers and disappeared down a corridor.
    I let him go.
    A second later, I stepped into the office.
    "I'm Nina Quinn," I said to the secretary, trying to keep the snap out of my voice.
    "Mr. MacKenna is running a bit behind, Mrs. Quinn. If you'll have a seat." She gestured to a bench against the wall.
    "You haven't seen my . . . er, husband yet, have you?" I nearly choked on "husband."
    "Oh, I forgot to tell you that Detective Quinn called and said he couldn't make it."
    I was going to kill him with my bare hands.
    "Did he say why?" I asked, my tone sugary sweet.
    "I'm sorry." She shook her head. "No."
    I slumped into a chair. Heat rose up my throat, dampened my armpits. I silently fumed. At Riley for getting involved with kids who were no good, at Kevin for leaving me to do what was rightfully his dirty work.
    How was I going to handle it all? And for that matter would