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It’ll be quiet.

That’s what Colleen had told him to convince him that moving to Edenridge would be good for them. She had grown up there originally and as Antoine neared his retirement and the kids flew the nest, she was feeling particularly nostalgic. Beau was still unsure, he had been police all his life, homicide to be precise. He had seen it all and done it all and in contrast to many of his compatriots, Antoine Beauregard had lived to tell his story. 

He was often asked by younger members of the force, what was the secret to his clearance rate and to his success? The answer was fairly simple; Beau lived by a mantra, a code that guided him in everything that he did [color=wheat]“Nobody no victim that don’t matter”[/color]. He had decided long ago that irregardless of whose case file crossed his desk, he would work it, work every angle until justice was served, the right people paid for their crime and that the families of the victims got closure. Colleen being the wordsmith she was, she managed to twist Beau’s mantra even in retirement [color=wheat]“Nobody no child that don’t matter”[/color] It was how he ended up teaching English at Edenridge High, the building that currently sat before him. Sitting in his parked car, with all the lights off and lurking in the shadows was not Antoine’s idea of a fun Friday night. If he wanted to stakeout a place he wouldn’t have left the force in the first place. 

It’ll be quiet.

She said it again when he started the teaching gig. She had gone to the school way back when so it was fair to say that Mrs Beauregard wasn’t aware of the trouble brewing within its walls. Colleen was oblivious to the chaos that had ensnared the Boston youth. She didn’t expect to take said troubled youth into their spare bedroom but then she should have known that Antoine always brought his work home with him. He is a simple, humble man who just can’t switch off from helping people. 

This was probably why he was where he was right now; watching his former students head into their alma mater one by one, in search of some form of truth and closure. He didn’t need to be there. The kids were old enough to look after themselves but Beau just couldn’t help it. There was something about this class, he just had to watch out for them; Mordechai, Penelope even Charlie. Charlie was his biggest regret. He saw the young man all the time, he could always transport himself back into his classroom talking to Charlie about Hemingway or Kerouac. Charlie Decker for all his flaws was a special boy, an intelligent boy. 

Beau glanced down at his passenger side chair and the gun sitting there. He didn’t want to be the one to bring a gun back into Edenridge High but if someone was targeting these kids, he needed to take care of them. They were [i]his[/i] kids. Nobody messes with his kids. He blew the smoke from his lungs from his ever present cigar chomping. 

[color=wheat]”I got you kids, I got you”[/color][/center]