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“Thank you,” Starling replies softly.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. I’ll stop by and collect the tray once you’re done.” She leaves quickly, closing the door behind her.

“You hungry?”

“No. I think I’m just going to go back to sleep for a while. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep too?”

“I can stay a little longer.”

“And watch me sleep? That’s creepy, even for you. Go. You can come back bright and early tomorrow to pick me up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

I stand and press a kiss to her forehead. “Okay. Your school bag is here with your cell phone. Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

“Night, Birdie.”

“Bye, Hudson.”

I can’t shake off this weird feeling when I leave Starling. She’s clearly not okay, but she seems to need space. Since I have something to do tonight, I’m willing to give her a little.

I go home and get changed before loading up my car with what I need, then head back to the high school. I park a block away from the school and grab my supplies from the trunk.

Thanks to the visitors, the school’s still open. I sneak in undetected and wait in one of the music rooms. I watch through the window as the last visitor leaves long after the game ends—a game that they lost.

When I see the principal heading back inside, I leave the room and head for her office. Her door’s open a crack, and she’s on the telephone arguing with someone.

“No, I can’t expel her. Not without creating a shitstorm.” She’s quiet for a moment, then curses. “Don’t blame me when your daughter has poor impulse control.” She sighs. “Yes, yes, I’ll see what I can do.”

I wait for her to hang up before I walk into the room, making her jump.

“Excuse me, I didn’t think anyone was still here. Wait, you’re?—”

“Starling’s husband. Yes.”

She scrunches her face in disgust. “She’s barely legal.”

“Barely still counts. And who I fuck has nothing to do with you, lady, especially when you’re panting after married dick.”

Her face flushes, so I’m guessing Kenzo’s assumptions about her are true.

“What do you want?”

“I’m glad you asked. What I want is for you to stop breathing and for this school to become nothing but rubble. Does that sound doable?”

“I’ll call the police.”

“No.” I step closer. “You won’t.” I pull out a pack of cigarettes and offer her one. When she shakes her head, I glare at her.

With a shaky hand, she slips one from the pack and puts it to her lips. I flip open my Zippo and light the end, watching her inhale and start coughing.

I watch her in silence, noting her pulse fluttering wildly and her skin growing paler.

“I entrusted you with the most precious thing I have—my wife. And you returned her to me bloody and bruised.”