Icy chills slithered down my spine, worse than I’d ever felt before. God help me, I had just saved the life of Minka LaBoeuf.
The blast of sirens brought everyone out of the classrooms. I managed to keep the hall clear while Naomi ran to the front door and led the two police officers through the gallery to the hall. One officer looked around while the other knelt and checked for a pulse.
“Watch out,” I muttered. “There’s blood.”
The officer kneeling looked up at me. “You found her?”
I nodded, then shivered and looked away.
“Okay, good job.” He grabbed his walkie-talkie and called for an ambulance. He was answered by a squawk, then the dispatcher responded, “Ambulance en route.”
“I’ll wait up front,” I said, and walked back to the gallery, where all the lights were now glaringly bright. Alice rushed over and met me.
“What happened?” she whispered. She looked even more pale than when she’d first showed up in class. “Is somebody sick?”
“Somebody’s been hurt,” I said.
Tom, Cynthia, and Gina crowded behind Alice.
“Who is it?” Tom asked, staring past me into the hall.
“Another instructor,” I said, unable to utter Minka’s name out loud.
“It’s Minka LaBoeuf,” Naomi announced from behind me. “Brooklyn saved her life.”
I winced. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Naomi insisted, then added, “Brooklyn found her and called nine-one-one. Look, she’s got Minka’s blood all over her hands.”
Oh, great. I knew she meant that in a nice way, but it really didn’t sound good.
“I . . . I need to wash my hands,” I whispered, staring at the dried streaks of blood.
“How did you get her blood on your hands?” Cynthia asked, her eyes focused on my outstretched hands.
Her tone carried a strong hint of accusation and I was about to shoot back something when Alice took hold of my arm and said gently, “Let’s go wash your hands.”
Just then, the tall, good-looking Hispanic officer whose badge read “Ortiz” zeroed in on me. “You found the victim.”
“Yes, I did,” I said. Soldier up, Wainwright, I thought, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “She was passed out in the hall. I stumbled over her on my way to Layla Fontaine’s office and called the police.”
“Who’s Layla Fontaine?”
“She runs this place,” I said. “Her office is at the end of the hall. I think she must’ve gone home already.”
“What do you do here?” he asked, taking notes.
“I’m just one of the instructors.” I waved my hand toward Naomi. “This is Naomi Fontaine. She’s the facilities coordinator for the center.”
“But—but I didn’t do anything,” Naomi declared, her wide-eyed gaze whipping back and forth between Officer Ortiz and me. “I opened my office door and Minka was lying there, and Brooklyn was kneeling over her.”
I shot her a look. “They already know that.”
“It’s okay, ma’am,” Ortiz said calmly.
No, it wasn’t. Was Naomi deliberately trying to throw me under the bus? Whatever happened to me being the big hero, saving Minka’s life? You couldn’t trust anyone anymore.
“Where’s Layla?” Tom asked, looking around.
“She went home,” Cynthia said through clenched teeth. “Brooklyn just said that. Try to keep up.”
Someone was even crankier than I was.
The cop tending to Minka called from the hallway, “Can somebody turn on the hall light?”
“It’s not working,” Naomi explained to Ortiz.
He walked a few feet into the hall, stretched his arm up, and tested one of the exposed bulbs by twisting it. The hall filled with light.
“Now that’s weird,” Gina said, her eyes big and round.
Cynthia frowned in agreement.
Another blast of a siren announced the arrival of the ambulance. Two EMTs rushed through the gallery carrying their packs filled with equipment. I managed to corral the onlookers away from the hall to give the techs enough space to pass through.
Whitney walked over and joined us. “What’s going on? I thought I heard a siren. Are we on a break?”
Gina grabbed her arm. “Girl, where were you?”
“I was on the phone,” Whitney said defensively, then lowered her voice to add, “That skinny guy let me use one of those storage rooms down the hall so I’d have some privacy.”
Was she talking about Ned? I looked around the gallery, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Somebody was attacked while you were gone,” Gina whispered excitedly.
“We don’t know that,” I said quickly.
Officer Ortiz signaled me over. “We’ll need to get everyone in one place and start some interviews.”
“You can use my classroom,” I said, then turned to Gina and Whitney. “Can you help me lead everyone back to the classroom?”
“You bet,” Gina said. She gathered my people while Naomi assembled Minka’s students and led them back into their classroom. Within five minutes, the area was cleared.
“You should go wash your hands,” Alice murmured.
I scowled as I held out my hands. “I completely forgot.”