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The mild-mannered college professor suddenly perplexed at how I could be implicated in anything to do with the police.
He’s stone for about a mile and I leave it at that, but I know Hank’s type well enough that he loves a good story as much as the next man.
“Well, alright,” he finally says loudly, caving in with a little grin.
“But you didn’t hear it from me!” he warns me, holding a firm finger up, watching the road like a hawk now, not wanting to get distracted by turning to me.
“Someone you know, or rather used to know. On campus?” he says cryptically, obviously wanting to fill in the drive with a little twenty questions for his own amusement, or just so he can say he didn’t tell me anything he shouldn’t directly.
“I don’t know anyone, Hank,” I confess. I really don’t. There are loose professional colleagues on campus but nobody who’d have it in for me. Nobody who would...
I groan internally.
“You know who,” Hank says accusingly, reading my expression.
“That was years ago,” I protest. “I didn’t even know she still worked on campus,” I add.
“She doesn’t,” Hank says loudly, opening his eyes wider, wanting to say more, but no. That would be telling.
“Well as far as I know.” I begin in my defense. “The restraining order should still be in place. And how would someone with a restraining order against them be able to follow me and report me to the police?” I retort, openly challenging Hank’s position.
He frowns giving a nod. “Good point, but when it comes to Federal Jurisdictions…” he drones wearily without actually saying anything of value.
He suddenly giggles like a child, slapping the steering wheel with one of his fat hands.
“Something funny?” I ask, glad I at least have a starting point on who’s been doing the snooping.
“You must be the only professor on campus that woman didn’t manage to get her claws into,” he chuckles loudly.
“Or any member of the entire history of the college’s football and athletic teams,” I add dryly, revolted by the memory.
“Well, whatever you did or didn’t do to her, she was finished after that,” Hank reminds me.
“I didn’t do anything to or with her,” I remark hotly, wishing I’d never mentioned it now. I could have made my own inquiries elsewhere.
“Oh, C’mon Xander. Don’t be like that. It’s not often we see a female stalker case on campus, and Lucy Brennon just couldn’t take no for answer, could she?” he asks, picking at the memory and opening it fresh for me.
“No, she couldn’t. But I wasn’t aware she was even in the state let alone near the campus,” I remark again.
“I kinda don’t blame her though and don’t take this the wrong way, Xander. But if a woman who looked like her makes advances on a single man who looks like you?”
I turn, giving him a deliberate blank stare.
“I have no idea what you mean,” I tell him honestly.
The very thought of that woman makes my skin itch. But she obviously knows how to bear a grudge.
Makes me wonder if she followed me into the woods, and how long has she been dogging me?
I feel a sudden gripping sensation in my chest, a feeling I haven’t had for years.
Danger.
Not for me, no.
For Gillian.
If Loopy Lucy is following me, she’d know all about me and Gillian. And someone as unhinged as that, well. There’s no telling what they might do.
A rational man might point this out to Hank, to the police. He might even ask for some help in watching over Gillian, just in case.
But I don’t want to draw attention to Gillian and me. I’ll be on the lookout and take out any would-be stalkers or anything else that tries to get between me and Gillian.
“Ah well, it’s ancient history I guess.” I lie to Hank, making like I’ve let it go for what it is. Ancient history.
“Maybe just drop me straight home if that’s okay Hank?” I ask, preferring my own wheels from now on.
“What about that dog, and Ms. Parker?” he asks frowning.
I pretend to have forgotten all about them.
“Ah, shoot. I was gonna help her with that house, wasn’t I? Okay, maybe I’ll grab the dog on the way through then I can pick Ms. Parker up myself in my car and we’ll go from there to the house she’s been sitting.”
Hank shrugs. “You’re a good man Xander. The world needs more men like you.”
Ain’t that the truth?
We drive the rest of the way in silence, and I wrestle with another new emotion. Anxiety.
Worry.
Loving someone isn’t all about pleasuring them, sharing intimacy, no.
It’s wondering if they’re okay when you’re not around too.
I can’t be with her every second of the day, but knowing there’s a disgruntled lunatic in the area makes me uneasy when it comes to Gillian being alone.
