I shook my head. I couldn't go down that road. I turned toward the parking lot. As I did so, a man stopped me. He had dark hair and an olive complexion and wore slacks and a gray wool coat. He looked like he was probably in his fifties.

"Excuse me," he said.

"Yes?" I asked warily.

"I'm sorry to stare, but you look just like a woman I know."

"You mean Laura Hawthorne?"

"That's the one. Are you related?"

"Yes. She's my mother."

"Your mother? Really?" he asked, surprise in his voice. "I had no idea she had a daughter."

"You're not the first person to tell me that," I said with a sigh. "Are you a friend of hers?"

"I am. I heard about what happened to her. I thought I'd come down here and see if anyone knew anything. I know her best friends work here at the school."

"They don't seem to know much of anything."

"What about you?" he asked. "Can you tell me how she's doing?"

"She's fighting for her life. That's all I know."

"Do the police know who did it? I can't get over the fact that someone shot her in the middle of the day. I looked online, but I couldn't find any information."

"I don't know anything. I'm sorry." My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my purse and saw a message from Dani. She was about twenty minutes away from my mother's house. I texted back that I'd see her soon. "Sorry, I have to go, Mr. …"

"Harrison," he said. "Mark Harrison. I hope your mother will be all right."

"Me, too." I paused, giving him a curious look. "How do you know my mother?"

"We met here at the school a few months ago. My stepdaughter goes here. She loves your mother. Says she's the best teacher she's ever had."

"That seems to be the consensus." I felt another twinge of envy for all the people who knew this version of my mother.

"To be completely honest," he continued, "I'm not just the stepfather of one of her students. I've also taken your mother out a few times."

"You're dating?" I was surprised and now even more curious about him. He was a good-looking older man with skin tones and dark hair and eyes that suggested he might be Spanish or Italian or some mix of cultures.

Mark smiled. "I'm not sure I'd call it dating at our age, but we've had dinner and gone to a movie."

"Sounds like dating to me. How long have you been going out?"

"A few weeks. We've just started getting to know each other, and now this. I'm in shock. Who would shoot your mother?"

"I can't imagine. She never told you about anyone who might have been bothering her or threatening her?"

"Not one word. She seems to have a lot of friends, and she doesn't get bothered by petty grievances. She doesn't look for drama, which I appreciate."