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A sense of nostalgia washed over her. She’d taken classes three days a week for an entire semester. No matter how tired or overworked, she’d been determined to better herself. She made the drive, sat in the class, and absorbed everything she could—forcing her dreams into a reality.
Then her entire life had been derailed.
But not anymore. She was taking control. Starting with talking to Professor Lipton. Then, she’d get her life back on track—full steam ahead.
She reached the door to the classroom as the last of the students trickled out. She sidestepped across the threshold and lightly rapped her knuckles on the door.
Professor Lipton stood in front of the room, swiping away blue marker from a white board hung on the cinderblock wall. His brown hair had thinned at the top, long wisps combed over to hide a small bald spot. But his shoulders were as broad as she remembered, his body fit and strong. “What’d you forget?” He asked, his back to her.
A ball of fear lodged in her throat, and all the questions she had prepared to ask flew out of her head. This was the man Chet was convinced killed his family. Could the police really have missed something when they’d investigated him years before? Could this be the man terrorizing her the last couple days, and did she really believe a simple conversation would give her the answers?
“Well, what is it?” He asked, setting the eraser on a metal lip on the board and turning her way. Wire rimmed glasses circled his owlish eyes and the lines on his forehead were more pronounced than she remembered.
She forced a smile and lifted her hand in an awkward wave. “Hi Professor. Remember me?”
His lips curved up in obvious delight. “Mia! It’s been a while. How are you?”
“Fine,” she said with a small shrug. “How are you?”
“Oh, the usual. I’m pleased to see you. Are you taking classes again?” He took two steps to the metal desk angled toward the window and gathered a pile of papers into a neat stack.
“Not right now, but I plan to come back soon.” At least that part wasn’t a lie. She didn’t feel the need to earn a degree, but she had more to learn about operating her own business if she wanted to be a success. “I was driving through town and thought I’d stop by. Check in and see if classes were posted yet for next semester.”
“Not sure if they’re posted, but I know the classes I’m teaching.” He dipped down and pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “Have a look if you’d like. I’m teaching a couple of advanced classes that would benefit you. As long as you’re still considering opening that restaurant you mentioned.”
She took a step forward, then hesitated. Being alone with him in a classroom wasn’t much safer than in his office. But the door was wide open, and he’d know something was off if she didn’t accept the schedule. Keeping as much distance between them as possible, she accepted the paper and skimmed the list. “I should be able to make this work. Thank you.”
“Good,” he said, sliding the now-neat stack of papers into his bag. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
She studied the sheet harder, taking note of the times and days. “Is this the same schedule you’re teaching now?”
He shrugged. “More or less. I’ve cut back a bit since you were here. Each semester I try to cut a little, but it never seems to happen.”
“Oh, really? Why’s that?” She folded the sheet of paper and slipped it in her pocket. He hadn’t offered for her to keep it, but she wanted the exact times he was teaching.
He lifted his hand and pointed to his ring finger. “I got married last year. For the first time in forty-three years, I need to figure out that home, work-life balance everyone’s always talking about.”
The sight of the gold band around his finger shocked her. “Congratulations.”
“If that’s all you need, I have to get going,” he said, gathering his briefcase in his hand. “I’m glad you stopped by and look forward to seeing you next semester. But the wife’s waiting. You know what they say. Happy wife, happy life.”
He crossed toward her, and she back peddled out of the room until she connected with hard muscle. Warm breath tickled her neck.Chet.
She glanced up into his cold, furious eyes, his gaze locked squarely on Professor Lipton.
“Heard that saying myself,” Chet said, his voice raw with anger. “But your wife will have to wait a little bit longer.”
20
Chet stepped in front of Mia, putting himself between her and the man who’d haunted his dreams for the last five years. He didn’t trust the asshole, no matter what the police said. Not after the way he’d treated Laurie, a student who shouldn’t have had to worry about being hit on by a teacher. Not after he’d made advance after advance on his wife. And definitely not when he was the last person to see his wife and daughter alive.
Professor Lipton’s face morphed into an angry shade of red, and he bounced his gaze from Chet to Mia. “Do you know this man, Mia?”
The sound of his voice made Chet’s blood burn. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t even look at her.” He all but spat out the words. Damnit, he shouldn’t have brought Mia here. Shouldn’t have agreed to her plan. But even the slightest chance of putting an end to this nightmare, of proving Bobby wasn’t involved in any way, had pushed him to behave recklessly.
Sighing, Professor Lipton set his briefcase on the floor by his side and lifted his palms in the air. “We’re not doing this again. How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry about Laurie—”
“Don’t you dare say her name.”
