The School Run

The flash of the phone camera was blinding, a white star exploding in the darkness. Elena stumbled, her boots slipping on the wet grass as she tried to shield her face. She was coughing, her lungs raw from the smoke, her skin stinging from the heat of the fire that was currently consuming the only physical evidence she had.

She scrambled up the embankment, away from the cottage, away from the man documenting her presence at the scene of the crime.

She didn't stop until she reached the line of trees bordering the service road. She leaned against an old oak, gasping for air. Her hands were black with soot. Her dress was ruined.

She checked her pockets. The rattle was there, heavy and reassuring. The lighter was there.

But the diary was gone.

She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to scream. She had seen Julian drop it. She had seen it fall into the linen chute. It was either ash in the incinerator or waiting in the basement laundry room.

"Elena?"

It was Thomas. He emerged from the storm drain a few yards away, dragging Sebastian behind him.

Sebastian looked like a specter. He was covered in slime, his hospital gown torn, his feet bare and bleeding. He was shivering violently, his teeth chattering so hard it sounded like bone breaking.

"Is he okay?" Elena asked, rushing to them.

"He's in shock," Thomas said, propping his brother against a tree. "We need to get him warm. We need to get him away from here."

"My car," Elena said. "Julian's Rover. It's back at the gate."

"They'll be watching it," Thomas said. "Arthur's driver saw you. The police are probably surrounding it right now."

Elena looked back at the cottage. The fire was a beacon, lighting up the night sky. Sirens were wailing, closer now.

"We can't use the car," she said. "We have to walk."

"Walk where?" Thomas asked. "He can barely stand."

Elena looked at Sebastian. He was staring at the fire, his eyes wide and unblinking. He wasn't seeing the destruction. He was seeing his prison burn.

"The school," Elena said. "It's three miles through the woods. But it's warm. And it has a phone."

"A phone?" Thomas asked. "You have a phone."

"I have a burner with one bar of battery," she said. "I need a landline. I need to call the only person Victoria can't buy."

"Who?"

"The Principal," Elena said. "She hates the St. Clairs. Victoria tried to get her fired last year for teaching 'subversive history'."

They started walking. It was a slow, agonizing procession. Elena supported Sebastian on one side, Thomas on the other. They moved through the dense undergrowth, avoiding the paths, avoiding the lights.

It took an hour to reach the edge of the school grounds. The building was dark, a sprawling brick structure that looked like a fortress.

They reached the back door near the gymnasium. It was locked.

"Move," Thomas said. He picked up a rock.

"No," Elena hissed. "No breaking and entering. That's what they want. They want me to look like a criminal."

She checked her pockets again. She didn't have her keys.

But she had something else.

In the pocket of the stolen coat, her fingers brushed against a small, plastic rectangle.

A key card.

It wasn't hers. It was Arthur’s. It must have been in the pocket when she threw the coat at him in the garage.

She pulled it out. *St. Clair Legal. Priority Access.*

It wasn't for the school.

But attached to the lanyard was a smaller key. A standard Schlage key.

She looked at the lock on the gym door. It wasn't a school lock. It was a new, high-security deadbolt.

The kind Arthur insisted on installing everywhere he had influence.

She tried the key.

It turned.

They slipped inside. The gym smelled of floor wax and old sweat. It was warm.

"Get him to the nurse's office," Elena said. "There will be blankets. Maybe some scrubs."

She left them and ran to the main office. The glass door was locked, but the reception window was open. She climbed through.

She grabbed the phone on the secretary's desk. It had a dial tone. A beautiful, steady hum.

She dialed the number for the elementary school. Not the main line. The emergency line for the after-school program.

"Hello?" A tired voice answered. "This is Mrs. Higgins."

"Mrs. Higgins," Elena said, her voice shaking. "This is Elena St. Clair. I'm coming to pick up my children."

Silence.

"Mrs. St. Clair?" the teacher said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But... your mother-in-law was just here."

Elena gripped the phone. "What?"

"Mrs. Victoria. She came about twenty minutes ago. She said there was a family emergency. A fire at the estate."

"Did she take them?" Elena screamed.

"Yes," Mrs. Higgins said. "She took Leo and Sophie. She said she was taking them to the airport. For their safety."

Elena dropped the phone. It dangled by its cord, swaying back and forth.

The airport.

They weren't just taking her children. They were taking her leverage.

Victoria had never picked them up in her life.