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Shit. No.
A feeling of dread creeps up from the pit of my stomach. Acid spearing up into my chest. Is it possible? Or is my possessiveness turning into paranoia?
I run towards her building, stopping in front of giggling girls. “Do you know Andrea Cooper’s room?”
They look at each other and nod. Maybe it’s how I look. The urgency. Because they don’t ask questions. “Second floor. 204. Her roommate is there right now.”
I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring the college-aged building security calling for me to stop. I pound on the door the second I clear the last stair, my heart hammering in my chest as time seems to stand still. It takes a full minute before I hear scuffling on the inside.
A girl with blonde pixie hair and headphones around her neck opens it and stares at me. “Can I help you?”
“Is Andrea here?”
Understanding dawns on her face. “Andrew, right?”
Now’s not the time to think about her talking about me to her roommate. “Is she here?”
“Uhm, no.”
She opens the door wide and lets me in. Andrea’s side is clean, not a book or item of clothing out of place.
“Now that I think about it. We were walking home together and she said she wanted to grab a book from the library.” Pixie grabs her phone from the table and reads it. “Her last text was an hour ago. She said she was on her way and to let you wait inside if you come knocking.”
Her forehead furrows like she’s arriving at the same conclusion as I am.
I can’t stay here anymore. Maybe if she didn’t have a stalker or that creepy professor, I’d chalk it up to her taking a detour and forgetting the time. But no. That’s not Andrea. If she says she’s on her way, then she’s on her fucking way.
Pixie’s still saying something but I storm out of the room. I’m calling Paul. He may hate me right now, but like me, Andrea’s his number one priority. Maybe she went home to talk to him? Fuck.
Where are you, baby?
I get inside the truck and grip the steering wheel, trying to steady my breathing. White-hot anger courses through me, making me see red.
Mentally, I run through my options. The stalker will be hard to pin down. But there’s the professor, so that’s where I’ll start. I’m already shifting the gear to drive when my phone rings. I pick it up quickly, thinking it’s Andrea.
But it’s from an unregistered number. Pulse hammers in my temple.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Alexander? It’s Mike, the security guard from the other day.”
“Yes. Is she with you?”
There’s momentary silence from him as chatter continues in the background. “I’m sorry. What do you mean?”
I pinch my eyes shut, trying not to take out my anger on him. “Andrea. Is Andrea with you?”
“Uhm, no. Why? Is she—? Wait, before we go off on a tangent here. I’m calling because you told me the other day to let you know if I find anything about Professor Derek Blaine. I asked around and well, you’re not gonna believe this. Are you on campus? You can come to the security building. It’s just a few blocks down from the dorm. You won’t miss it. There’s a huge sign in front.”
I waste no time driving, careful not to speed since there are still so many students walking, milling about, or even throwing footballs and frisbees.
Finally, I stop by the side of the road and run inside an old brick building. Above the grand set of double doors, a stone archway displayed the words, “Campus Security.”
Inside, I notice several students, most of them talking to a middle-aged woman who’s probably the receptionist. I make my way to her when Mike catches my eye and motions to his office.
“Office” is generous. It’s a small space with a desk, chair, and filing cabinet. The man’s huge and so am I. So it doesn’t take much for the two of our big frames to eat up the entire space. He sits down and says, “Like I said, I dug around and found nothing. Nothing on paper. But I overheard some students talking about him. Calling him Professor Creep. Asked them about it at first and they all clammed up. Been working security for so long, I can smell fear from a mile away. And they areallscared.”
“I think Andrea’s missing,” I tell him without preamble.
