Page 8 of Facade

They sat down to eat then, and talked strategy. Clarke agreed that it would be best to search the offices before students arrived for the term. One of the students could be involved, but she needed to explore every possibility.

Hannah, who was currently staying with her parents, would move into Clarke’s house and take care of Slob. Clarke would miss Slobby terribly, but she couldn’t take him with her.

Three days later, Clarke read the email from Dean Stanhope with a sense of unreality, then read it again to be sure she wasn’t mistaken. She had the job. Barely glancing at the proposal and offered salary, Clarke accepted the position, thanking Dean Stanhope for the opportunity, and sent the email. Holy shit, this was really happening.

Clarke

The last few weeks had been a mix of hectic preparations, second, third, and fourth thoughts, shopping, and planning. Clarke drove to the closest big city to purchase an entire wardrobe. She needed everything from shoes, pajamas, and underwear to professional clothing.

The dress code for faculty was slacks, a button-down shirt, and either a jacket, sweater, or vest. But needing to be available to the students in her dorm meant Clarke would also have to look like a man after hours.

Even if that wouldn’t be an issue, Clarke wouldn’t risk exposure by having girly pajamas. Or girly anything beyond the necessities. Better safe than sorry.

Clarke bought a couple of blazers, but mostly opted for sweaters and sweater vests. Sport coats revealed the lines of her tank top and bra through the fabric of the shirts in the front. That wouldn’t necessarily cause suspicion, but most men Clarke knew didn’t wear undershirts. Sweaters were more concealing.

Hannah and Clarke researched the faculty as much as possible. But only the Dean, Assistant Dean, and department heads had photographs and detailed bios posted. Still, she read every name to get a sense of the staff.

No one stood out to her as a potential suspect. Since everyone would have passed stringent background checks, that wasn’t shocking. Hopefully, meeting them in person would provide more insight.

When she wasn’t busy, the time crawled by. The house was lonely and creepy without her dad. It didn’t feel right. The police still had no updates on the case, and not a single lead to Charlie’s whereabouts.

Clarke had tried for more visions. But they either eluded her, or showed the entrance to Mars College again with no additional details. It was frustrating.

Her moods swung from optimism and hope to fearing that her dad was dead. Clarke was in a constant fight with depression, often losing that battle. At night, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time.

Charlie’s car was back in the garage. Harry and his oldest son had gone out to get it when the police released it from evidence. Clarke wanted it to be here, waiting for her dad when he came home.

The vehicle mocked her though, with the illusion of normalcy it provided. Clarke had stared at the car for hours, trying not to cry, and hoping her intuition would tell her something. But there was nothing.

Harry had cast reveal spells that were just as fruitless as her efforts. That had been a long shot anyway. Most police departments had casters who were well-versed in investigative spells.

Finally, the day she was expected to move into Mars College arrived. Knowing she would be on campus by the end of the day was a relief. Even if she didn’t find anything immediately, Clarke would be closer to the truth, and hopefully, her dad.

Harry and Hannah were there to see her off and help pack the car. The backseat and trunk were packed to the gills, but Clarke fretted that she might have forgotten something.

It was a three-and-a-half hour drive. She wouldn’t be able to come back for a necessary item. But Clarke had quadruple checked every tote and suitcase.

The orientation pamphlet, campus map, and documentation for security were in the glovebox. Her charmed bracelets, the DSV potion, sent-neutralizer, and feminine products were in a storage tote under bed linens. The tampons were in a plain box labeled as kitchen accessories.

Those were the essential items that couldn’t be easily replaced, and needed to be hidden. Harry had assured her that the guards would just scan for illegal items without getting invasive. Clarke told herself to stop obsessing over it.

Stocking up on tampons made Clarke realize that shifters would be able to smell her menstruation cycle within a certain range. That wouldn’t be a problem in the powered dorm, but she had shifts in the library and cafeteria, and might have a shifter student in one of her classes. She refused to be outed by a biological function and acute senses of smell.

Accordingly, Clarke bought a case of scent-blocking spray designed to mask the scent of blood. It was commonly used at hospitals to reduce panic in injured shifters. Anything that worked to diminish the smell of bleeding wounds should hide the scent of her period.

“You have the housekeys and passwords for the account to pay the bills?” Clarke asked Hannah.

“Yeah, we went over all that. I’ll be fine. Slob has a month’s supply of food, and I know where to buy more. I’ll walk him every day, and let him sleep in bed with me,” Hannah said patiently. “Text when you get there.”

They each hugged her one more time before Clarke climbed into the car. “Drive safe, watch your back, and bring Charlie home,” Harry said.

“That’s the plan,” Clarke said with tears stinging her eyes.

“I love you, kid,” Harry said.

“I love you, too, Uncle Harry,” Clarke replied as she closed the car door and put on her seatbelt. She shifted into reverse before she could be tempted to procrastinate further, and backed out of the driveway.

Once she was on the road, Clarke was calmer. For better or worse, she was committed to this plan.