A Flight of Fantasy (Sarah Woods Mystery 12) by Jennifer L. Jennings

my coffee I said, “It’s almost two o’clock. Where are we headed now?”
    “Fitch High School where Rita works. We’re going to put a GPS tracker on her car. Maybe we can catch her in the act the next time she tries to con a guy.”
     

Chapter 12
     
     
    As we entered the parking lot of Fitch High School, we spotted Reece’s red Mazda and parked in the closest spot next to it. I got out of the Buick and noticed a group of teenaged boys sitting on an old car smoking cigarettes. They couldn’t have been older than fourteen. They seemed preoccupied, shouting to each other in antagonistic tones, so they didn’t pay attention to me when I pretended to drop my purse on the ground near Rita’s car. I quickly placed the GPS tracker under the trunk, stood up, and dusted off my hands in a casual manner. When I glanced at the boys, they still paid no attention to me.
    “It’s almost two o’clock,” I said when I got back in the Buick. “School gets out any minute so we should probably go wait somewhere else until Rita is done for the day.”
    “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”
    There was a Dunkin Donuts across the street from the high school and we parked there. This afforded us a clear shot of the parking lot where we’d see Rita walking to her car.
    “She might have to stay after school to meet with students,” I said. “In a town like this, I have to believe she has her hands full with troubled teens. Man, I don’t think I could do it. She must see all kinds of abuse.”
    “Takes a special person to do that job,” Carter said.
    “You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe she wasn’t after Wayne’s personal or financial information. Maybe she was after something else.”
    “Like what?” Carter asked.
    “I don’t know, but she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who steals from people. I mean, if she was desperate for money, she would have taken one of Wayne’s paintings, or something she could have exchanged for quick cash.”
    “Good point. But time will tell. I say we keep watching her to see if she does it again.”
    Around 2:15, school let out and the parking lot became a hangout of sorts. Smoking, flirting and even a mild fight broke out.
    “Look at that,” I said, pointing to two young punks who seemed to be egging each other on with wild hand gestures. One boy sucker punched the other and went down hard. A group of hecklers gathered around, none of whom helped the injured party. At that point, we couldn’t see what happened because a crowd had formed, blocking our view.
    “What is it about boys and fighting,” I said. “Brian never got into fights. At least, not that I know about.”
    “You see it all the time in lower class neighborhoods,” he said. “Fights were a daily occurrence where I went to school.”
    “Really? Were you ever involved in one?”
    “No, but my best friend Tom had problems with a few bullies in eighth grade. They put Tom in the hospital after a prank they pulled on him.”
    “What did they do to him?”
    “They put a rat in his locker. Tom opened his locker and the rat took a chunk out of his hand. Ended up with rabies. He was in the hospital for weeks and almost died.”
    “That’s unbelievable.” Noting the evil look on Carter’s face, I knew there was more to the story.  “So, what did you do to the bullies in retaliation?”
    “Well, Bobby was the leader of all the bullies and he used to drive this Camaro to school every day. He was so proud of that thing, always showing off. So one day during school, I went out to the parking lot and poured a cup of sugar into his gas tank. You have no idea how much I enjoyed watching the tow truck haul it away while everyone gave him shit. Best day of my life.”
    “Did he ever find out it was you who did it?”
    “He had his suspicions I’m sure but he couldn’t prove it was me. I got dirty looks from him and his posse the rest of that year, but he never tried anything funny. I almost wished he