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The look on the cop’s face when I tell him she’s asleep on my couch says it all.
Big college or small college, none of them want scandal of any kind.
I try to keep it civil, but my back is up once I read what this guy has in mind.
I can see it in my mind as clearly as in a movie.
They’ll ask Gillian a bunch of questions, wear her down and then her dad will get involved and she’ll be gone.
And me and my big mouth, bigger fists will probably be in the county jail before I can spit.
Probably delaying the inevitable, but as far as I know, there’s no law against helping someone out, and no law against two consenting adults doing anything else.
That’s the part I’d prefer to keep out of all this, our little bit of couch surfing this morning.
My mind’s made up in an instant.
No more contracts for any governments, or any other agencies that I’m bound to.
I don’t want to go home now. I just want to stay here, just me and Gillian.
The college contract, easily fixed. It’s expired if I’m not fired already. The NASA thing? Meh.
Even the other stuff, the unofficial government stuff, I should be able to get out of that. It’s a tricky one, not something you get fired from or just text in your resignation. One I’ll have to go away for a while to sort everything out.
With any luck I’ll need just a few days, a week tops to plead my case to be free from all this for good. But I can’t do anything if I’m in a jail cell for breaking a campus police officer’s nose now, can I?
I do feel the change in me. Since being with Gillian, something’s been awoken in me. The man in me I guess. I’ve spent so many years only looking through a telescope or computer screen that I’ve been fixed on my assignments only.
Finding space phenomenons and reporting them back, along with some other reports.
That’s all changed now and I want out. I will have out, a bit like the beast in me, I guess.
It’s been woken up now and only wants to claim Gillian and ride off into the sunset so we can live out our days in peace, practicing a lot more of what we discovered makes us fit so well together this morning.
I can sense Gillian wanting to just get dressed and come out, but I hope she’s picking up on my signal. I want her to stay put.
I’ll handle this.
In a short time, a second car arrives, I raise a hand in a wave, recognizing the head of the campus police, Hank Stanton. He’s one of the few folk I bump into when I do my work, mostly at night.
“Hiya Xander,” Hank calls out cheerfully, giving his junior officer a hard look as he comes over to talk with me, one on one.
“What’s the hubbub, Professor?” he asks, concerned more than suspicious. “Eames here tells me you found and helped an injured student last night in the woods. We just wanna talk to her, make sure she’s okay,” he says, giving me another concerned look.
His own instincts should or could have told him what’s what already, but he’s ready to hear me out before anything else.
Maybe it’s been a while since Hank did any muff diving, but I can still taste Gillian on my breath and I’m sure her essence still hangs in the air you wouldn’t need a forensic test to find out what we’ve been up to.
“Gillian’s fine, Hank,” I explain quietly, only going into the detail of the lost dog and house I plan to help her get cleaned up, on account of her ankle. And to get him out of here so we can get on with our day.
“Ah, it’s that little pooch that started all this,” the senior officer remarks, glancing back to Eames and drawing in closer, a sign he has my confidence.
“Dog was found this morning by a neighbor, they knocked on the Patterson’s door and no sign of Gillian, so…” he confides, raising his brows in silent explanation.
“I already spoke to her father this morning,” I add, casually adding we're heading to the medical center directly then on to arrange things at the house she’s been sitting.
Hank Stanton, I thought would leave it at that. But not today.
“We just need to take Gillian and get her checked out ourselves. Just procedure,” he smiles, but his tell is showing.
It’s more than a lost dog or missing student case.
Don’t need to be a professor to see that.
Eames has gravitated closer, annoyed he can’t hear every word we’ve been saying.
“Thought you had a wild animal in there, Professor,” he sneers. “All that growling.”
Hank Stanton holds my gaze. “Probably just your belly growling, Eames. Head on back now, I’ve got this covered.”
