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“Hey, it’s me. Ted just called about his mom’s stroke. I’m glad he’s cleared, and thanks for giving him the address to come pick me up. Um… I was hoping to talk to you before I left, but I’ll take a cab back to your house later. I’m guessing Ted will be staying bedside tonight, if possible. Please be safe out there.”
When she hung up, there was a heaviness in her chest. But why? She wasn’t exactly sure. She should’ve asked Ted what hospital they were going to and left that in her message, too. The click of Gilligan’s nails sounded on the floor, and she turned, scooping him up. The little dog’s fur was bristly against her cheek.
“Take care of your dad until I get back. ’Kay?” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and set him back on the ground, just as the doorbell chimed.
A rush of nerves built in her chest as she crossed to the front door. The last time she’d seen Ted, he’d been hinting at wanting to be more than just friends. His mom is sick. He needed her support, deserved it. Just like all the times he’d stood by her. Shaking her head at her silliness, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. Ted stood on the porch in a wrinkled blue shirt and pants that looked like they’d been balled up and shoved in a suitcase. A few days’ worth of stubble shaded his cheeks and chin. It was his eyes, though, that made her take pause.
“You were crying on the phone.” Her feet were fused to the floor.
“I was, but I’ve pulled it together.” He raked his hands through his hair.
“No,” she said, willing herself to step back and slam the door. “When you cry, your eyes puff up until the next day.” And like a bad movie, his lips curved into a smile and his hand shot out to block the door from closing. He grabbed her wrist, squeezing he so tightly, pain shot up her arm.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Thanks, Captain Obvious. Gus was right, Ted was the threat, and she’d walked right into his trap.
“Taking what’s mine.” He yanked her arm, but she used all her weight to drop to the ground on her butt. She tried to twist her arm and yank out of his grip, but there was no space between his fingers and her skin. Ted leaned down, swinging his free fist like a pendulum into her temple. Pain erupted in her head. Suddenly, she couldn’t get enough oxygen in her lungs. He’d hit her. Ted, who was her best friend, hit her. Then he released her wrist, leaned down, and tossed her over his shoulders.
She wiggled wildly against him. His bony shoulder was digging into her abdomen, jostling her with every step. She kneed and kicked with her feet while scratching and pinching at his back. There was no way he was going to let her go. Placing one hand on his neck, she pushed off and thrust her weight off his shoulder. The ground came up to meet her, smacking into her hip and shoulder. Spots flashed behind her eyes as agony radiated through her, but hurt was better than dead. The second she got into his car, it was as good as over. She rolled, stood up, and began running. That was short-lived, though, because before she could blink, her head was bouncing off the pavement, Ted’s hand wrapped tightly around her ankle.
“Enough.” His harsh whisper whistled in her ear, and she felt herself being lifted once again. The front yard and driveway spun, and there was a metallic tang in the air.
I’m so sorry, Gus.
That was her last coherent thought before she was tossed into the trunk like a bag of fertilizer.
Chapter Eighteen
Gus loosened his grip on the steering wheel and took exit eighteen toward Brighton and Cambridge. Wright was in the passenger seat, popping a stick of gum into her mouth.
“Want?” She held out the pack of wintergreen, and he shook his head.
“No, thanks.” They rolled to a stop at the red light, and he wet his lips, hyper-focused on getting to the history department at Harvard University. He was on edge and uncomfortable. The tingling at the back of his neck had increased. Something felt off, and that was never good.
“Does Sasha know?” Wright looked out the window, scoping out the area behind oversized sunglasses.
The light changed, and he continued past groups of college students, backpacks fastened. Some walked, others rode bicycles through the busy streets. “That we’re surprising Professor Wilson at his office? Yes and no. She knows we need to talk to him. Even though he has alibis, all of our recent homicide cases link back to the fire at Sasha’s, and there is no one closer to Sasha than Ted.” Sasha’s friend hadn’t continued to text her once she promised to call with an update. He wasn’t sure if she had, and so long as her safety wasn’t compromised, their conversation was none of his business.
“What about a motive?” Wright asked as they drove past the Harvard Yard with its tall, shady trees and verdant lawn.
Gus swiveled his gaze. Finding a parking spot along the street was typically a challenge. “Obsession?” His jaw clenched. The idea of someone trying to hurt Sasha turned him inside out.
“Righting the wrongs of the woman he loves?” Wright threw out. “Maybe the study group that provided the alibis will be able to shed more light on any changes in the professor’s behavior.”
“I’m counting on it. And we need to verify that someone witnessed the study group taking place. Wilson could be holding a number of things over those student’s heads.” He flipped on his directional and put the car into reverse to parallel park in an open space. “The access log in the library corroborates with the student’s statements. Wilson’s key card was used to enter the library on the night of Melissa Fletcher’s kidnapping, the hit-and-run, and during the art gala.”
“What about the most recent vic, and the VP of Finance at Haven?” Wright gathered her small purse from the floor beside her ankles and turned to him.
“Security card access on campus.” Satisfied that he’d parked adequately, he killed the engine. “The department is still reviewing university footage.”
“He could’ve paid someone to swipe it at designated times.” She released the lock on her seatbelt, and it retracted into its original position.
“Or given it to a student.” All the ways Ted could’ve coerced his students and others to cover his trail made his gut clench. If Ted was the killer, he was manipulative. Probably enjoyed toying with people just as much as he enjoyed eliminating them.
“Convenient that his students are the ones providing the alibi.” She tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to join her on the curb.
“So, alibis might not be so tight after all.” The moment he joined her, they began walking toward Robinson Hall. “Any more thoughts on why the killer poses the victims?”
