Have You Seen Her? by Karen Rose Page A

not any of those things.”
    Steven closed his eyes and massaged his temples, a headache pounding behind his eyes. “When did you see him change?”
    He felt her fingers close around his wrist and pull his hand from his face. He opened his eyes to find hers narrowed and worried. “Are you okay, Mr. Thatcher? You look pale.”
    “Just a headache. I’ll be fine. It’s just stress. Really,” he added when she looked unconvinced. “When did you first notice a change in my son?”
    She settled in her chair, back to business. “Four weeks ago. When school started in August I was thrilled to have him in my advanced chemistry class this year. Then right after the Labor Day break he was different.”
    Steven frowned. “Different, how?”
    She shrugged her shoulders. “Restless at first. He missed simple questions. We had a test the Friday after Labor Day. He got a
D
. I was stunned. I thought I’d give it a few weeks, see if he snapped out of it.” She shrugged again. “Then today I graded his latest test and he failed it. He’s grown more isolated every day. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to call and let you know.”
    Steven made himself ask the question that had kept him awake most of the nights over the last four weeks. “Dr. Marshall, do you think my son has gotten involved in drugs?”
    She pressed her fingertips to her lips and sat quietly for a moment that stretched on and on. He thought she wasn’t going to answer at all when she sighed. “Good kids can get involved in drugs, Agent Thatcher.” She met his eyes, her gaze sympathetic. “But you knew that already. The truth is I don’t know. I hope to heaven he’s not, but we can’t afford to believe he’s not.”
    Steven watched her bite her lip and felt a strange calm settle around his shoulders.
We.
She’d said
we
. He still didn’t have the slightest idea what to do about Brad, but knowing this woman shared his frustration and seemed to genuinely care for his son provided a foothold, a place to rest, if only for the few minutes he sat across from her. “Then where do we go from here?”
    She smiled, so gently it made his heart clench. “The guidance counselor would be a good place to start. He’s a friend of mine and very experienced.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her briefcase and wrote a name and phone number. “Call Dr. Bondioli on Monday. He’s expecting you.”
    Steven folded the paper and slid it into his pocket. “You were sure I’d be willing to talk to him.”
    “Brad’s a good kid. Good kids rarely raise themselves.” “Thank you. Believe it or not, I feel just a little better.”
    Dr. Marshall stood, balanced her weight on one foot, and extended her hand. “I’m glad.”
    He pushed himself to his feet and shook her hand, feeling a reticence to let go that was foreign to him. He abruptly released her hand. Foreign, unwise, and unwanted. “Thank you for agreeing to see me tonight. How’s your ankle?”
    She put some weight on it and winced. “Better.”
    Steven hesitated. “Is there someone you can call to get you home?” His eyes dropped to her left hand, quite of their own volition. No ring. No husband.
No way,
he thought.
Don’t go there.
But he had. He wondered if his face was as heated as hers had become. Her eyes dropped to her feet.
    “No, I’m afraid not,” she murmured, almost as if to herself, and he wondered if he’d hurt her feelings. But when she looked up, her smile was firmly back in place. “No significant other. Just my trusty dogs.” Briskly she gathered her belongings. “No worries, though. My car’s an automatic and my right foot’s still good, but I could use some help getting to my car if you don’t mind.”
    “Not at all.” He took her briefcase and offered his arm, steeling himself for the warm feel of her touch.
    She isn’t married.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed the thought aside and with it the little spark it lit inside him. He needed to focus on getting her to her car and