Teacher's Pet

Kate just wanted to go to bed. It was almost midnight and tomorrow would be a bear if she didn’t get some sleep. Her kids operated on warp speed regardless of her energy level, but she knew she had to pick up prizes for the day planned, or her students would revolt. Resigned, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door for the 24-hour supermarket.

The clouds blocked out the moonlight, and the mist coming off the lake made the drive eerie. Kate almost expected Michael Myers to materialize in the middle of the road. These were the moments she half wished she wasn’t such a true crime and horror aficionado. It didn’t help that there had been three women killed recently in the tri-state area.

Turning into the supermarket’s parking lot, she debated driving the extra ten miles to the better part of town. With poor lighting and no other shoppers to be seen, she felt a prickle of hesitation. She shook it off and went inside, swearing she’d never do this again.

She filled her cart with stickers, pencils, and friendship bracelets along with the obligatory candy. She did a mental fist bump; there was no one in the checkout lane. She figured she’d still be able to get in four hours sleep.

“Don’t you remember me?”

Kate heard the voice behind her. She turned, tried to hide her irritation. She got this question dozens of times a year. You can’t teach for thirty years and not expect to run into former students as adults.

Her first thought was, ‘How the hell can I remember every student I’ve ever taught?’ Most likely the last time she talked to this kid was when he was a gap toothed, chunky little ten year old pumped up on Ritalin.

Instead, she smiled sweetly and replied, “Help an old lady out here. Just a hint.”

He frowned. “Here I thought I was one of your favorites.”

“If you remember correctly, I told all my students they were my favorite.”

He laughed, but his eyes contradicted his smile. “It’s Ted Adams. Oh sorry, Teddy to you back then.

Kate relaxed. She remembered Teddy well. She looked more closely at the man in front of her, trying to match present day Teddy with the ten year old she had in her class. He was now over six feet tall, ripped, with short black hair. Anything’s possible, she thought.

“You’ve certainly grown up Teddy. I’m so glad to see you so healthy.”

“Of course I’m healthy. Why wouldn’t I be?” He practically preened. “From your cart, I’m guessing you’re still teaching third grade? ”

Sensing not to press him on the past she replied, “Two more years til retirement. So what have you been up to?”

“I’m in computer sales. This is part of my territory. Have a sales presentation tomorrow morning and forgot a few things.” He held up a few file folders and markers.

Kate was ready for this conversation to end. She swiped her credit card.“Well, I”m just happy to see one of my students become such a success. I always believed in you Teddy.”

“Mrs. Archer, just know the year I spent in your classroom was the best in all my school years.”

Kate paused, then decided she wasn’t in the mood to quibble. She pushed her cart towards the exit. “You take care, Teddy.”

Just outside the door, Ted ran up to her. “Let me walk you to your car. You shouldn’t go alone this time of night.”

Kate pushed her cart faster. “No bother. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied and continued to follow her. Nearing her car, she pressed the button and her trunk flew up. As she started to place her bags into the trunk, Ted moved in closer. “Here, let me help.”

Kate stepped back to let Ted finish. She fished inside her purse looking as if she were going to give him a tip. He put the last bag in and turned to her. In his hand was a gleaming six inch curved Bowie knife. “Get in the trunk.”

Kate straightened. Their eyes locked. Without a thought, she raised her arm and pressed. He screamed. The mace hit him squarely in the face. He dropped the knife, and clawed at his eyes. With a well aimed kick to his crotch, he was down on all fours, moaning and cursing.

Kate ran screaming towards the store. The security guard ran outside. “He attacked me. Has a knife.” The guard told her to call 911 and approached Ted, who was still writhing the ground.

At the police station two hours later, Kate sat in a room, sipping God awful coffee as she waited on a detective. She knew from listening to all the scuttlebutt in the station that the man they apprehended was thought to be the same man who had attacked and killed three other women in the area. Kate shuddered to think that the knife he pulled on her was used on other helpless victims.

Right then, the door opened and in walked a stocky, balding man wearing a rumpled suit, his head buried in a file.

“Mrs. Archer! You’re the person who stopped this killer?”

Kate gazed up at the detective. “Yes. It was me as I’m sure you’ve read in the file. When can I go home?”

The detective paused and held out both arms. “Don’t you remember me?”

Kate was about to bolt, when he continued. “It’s me Eddie Simmons. You were my third grade teacher!”

“I’m going to need proof of that,” Kate deadpanned.

Det. Simmons laughed. “Scouts honor. Unlike your Teddy Adams. His real name is Dwayne Mayfield. We’ve learned he used social media to gather information on potential victims. He knew where you taught, the year you started, and could look up school yearbooks to find the name of one of your former students from long ago. Not many of us look like we did in third grade, which was a boon to him and one I’m personally grateful for. I’m sure he learned about the real Teddy too just to flesh out his ruse.”

He sat down across from Kate. “What tipped you? He really could have been Teddy Adams, just helping his favorite teacher to her car. What if you had been wrong about a knife?”

“At first I took him for his word. Why wouldn’t I. But what this Dwayne wouldn’t have known was that Teddy spent only one week in my classroom. He suffered a host of health issues, so I tutored him at home after the regular school day. Dwayne told me that the year he spent IN my classroom was his best.”

“But how was Teddy’s photo in the yearbook if he wasn’t at school?

“I took his photo and turned it into the school.” Kate stood. “Are we done here? I have a classroom of third graders that wait for no one.”