“If I can pull it off.”

“I don't think Evelyn would've brought you down here and set you up if she didn't think you could do it,” she said. “So you must've impressed her somehow.”

“Or she's just desperate enough to throw someone to the wolves in the hope that I can round up a little money for the computers,” I said.

Charlotte laughed. “I guess that's possible, but I doubt it. How much do you think you can raise?”

“I'm really not sure,” I admitted. “If we could get several hundred people in the building, I think that would be a success. I'd take it.”

“That would be a good start,” she said. A thick gold bracelet encircled her wrist and she twisted it absent ly -minde dly . “They have to figure something out, though. We need those computers. The kids need those computers.”

The pressure was beginning to feel like two fat elephants sitting on my shoulders.

“Have you heard anything?” I asked, glancing at the door. “Do they have any idea who might've taken them? Or how they got in?”

She hesitated, then shook her head, her earrings swinging back and forth. “No, I really haven't heard anything. I'm not even sure what kind of investigation is going on.” She paused. “I'd think it might get uncomfortable for a few folks, though.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my curiosity sparked.

She stared at her computer screen, but her fingers weren't clicking on the keyboard. “Well, I just...I'd think the police would need to ask a lot of questions. And that might make some people a little uncomfortable.”

“You mean, just talking about the theft?” I asked. “Because the school was broken into?”

She pressed her lips together and glanced up, as if she was debating what she wanted to say. “That could be part of it, I guess. But some people might have a tough time answering some of the questions. It just might be...I'm not sure what the word is.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” I said. “Why would it be tough to answer questions? The police want to help, right?” I'd had my fair share of run-ins with – and questioning by – the Moose River police department and, although uncomfortable, they had seemed mostly competent while doing their job.

“Yes, of course,” she said, quickly. “And to do that, they'll have to be thorough. Which means talking to a lot people here at Prism. And that's where it might get sticky.”

“Sticky?”

She started to say something, then stood and walked around the desk. She closed the door to the office then walked back to her desk . She sat on the edge of it and faced me. She fiddled with her bracelet and took a deep breath, as if mustering the courage to speak.

“Okay,” she said. “Here's the deal. Totally off the record and between me and you. Okay?”

I tried not to look too confused. “Um, okay. Sure.”

“We have some weird rules around here,” she explained. “They don't always make perfect sense, but you can kind of understand where they're coming from. I might not always agree with them, but I can sometimes understand the reasoning. If that makes sense.”

I nodded, even though it sounded like she was talking in circles. “It does.”

She glanced at the door before speaking again. “So one of the rules is that the building is closed on the weekends. No admittance. They do this for a couple of reasons. One is that the alarm system has been spotty in the past and even when we were allowed in the building on weekends, the code sometimes didn't disarm the system and it would be a huge mess.”

While that would seem like something you'd want to get fixed, I understood the principle of the idea. Having your alarm system go off while a teacher was trying to grade papers or something on a Saturday was probably a bit of a problem. You didn't want police officers showing up, guns drawn, and all you were trying to do was correct an essay.

“So there aren't any events on weekends any more?” I asked. I knew last year there had been a couple of dances and a few sporting events, too. After all, I'd worked concessions and ticket sales at some of them.

“No, those still happen,” she said. “School sanctioned events still happen on the weekends. We have staff here who supervise and close up. It's the unofficial coming and going that we can't do.”

That made a little more sense.

Charlotte continued. “And, two, people started bringing their kids in with them, letting them run around, that kind of thing,” she said. “Some things got knocked out of place, I think a light bulb was broken, I can't recall exactly. But basically kids were running around doing things they shouldn't have been doing while their parents were trying to get some work done in their classrooms.”

I nodded.  I could understand teachers not wanting to leave their kids at home, but you couldn't just set them loose and let them use the school as their own personal playground.

“So when those things kept coming up, they finally put an end to being able to access the building on the weekends,” Charlotte said, folding her arms across her chest. “A bummer, but you can kind of see the reasoning.”

“Sure,” I said. “Not a perfect solution, especially for the teachers who weren't causing issues, but I get it.”

“Right,” she said, nodding. “A lot of us grumbled about it, myself included because I liked coming in on Sundays when the building was empty and quiet. I could get caught up on the paperwork I didn't want to lug home.” She sighed. “I'd hoped they'd revisit the decision, maybe offer us limited hours or something like that, but we haven't reached that point yet.” She frowned. “And now with this, I'm not sure we'll ever get to that point again. But I get it.”

She was right. If the school had already deemed the building off-limits on the weekends prior to the theft, it was hard to believe they'd ever reconsider opening it again. If anything, they'd probably try to lock the building down even tighter and restrict access even more.

“But here's the thing,” she said, lowering her voice. “And this is the real off the record part.”

I leaned in closer to hear her.

“I'm pretty sure that some people have been coming in on the weekends, anyway,” she whispered. “And there are already rumors that some people were in the building this past weekend.”

“When the computers were stolen?”

She nodded. “Yep. So when the police start asking people about what they might know, they might have to admit that they were here. And that will not go over well, I promise you.”

“Wow,” I said. “Yeah, I wouldn't want to have to be the one to admit I was breaking the rules.”

“Exactly,” she said. “For all the rules a school has, it's funny how poor faculty and staffs can be at following them. Do as I say, not as I do, I guess. That's pretty much any school I've ever worked at.”

I chuckled. There were a gazillion reasons why I homeschooled my kids but I would be lying if I said onerous and stifling school rules didn't make that list. Because they did. I certainly saw the value in rules and the necessity for them in a school where you had a thousand kids congregating in a confined space, but I also saw the benefit of educating my kids in an environment where they could chew gum without punishment, where they could go to the bathroom when they needed to go, and where they didn't have to raise their hands to be recognized.

“People could lose their jobs,” Charlotte said, frowning. “I'd hate to see that happen, but I think it's a possibility.”

I nodded, thinking the same thing. And then something else occurred to me.

“It could also create some...suspicions,” I said, making sure to keep my voice low.

She winced as soon as I said the word, but reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, it could. And that's the part that could get really uncomfortable.” She paused and glanced at the door again. “Because whoever was here would have to admit being here and I'd think that would kind of put the spotlight on them.”