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“You need to stop learning from me,” Char muttered. “Fine. I’ll bring the car around like a good boy and be waiting out front. You had better plan to reward me, though.”
I snorted at Char’s quick agreement—Kenz was no doubt the only person who could get him to listen to anything—before I hung up.
“You handle him well.” I slid the phone into my pocket.
“He’s easy to deal with when you understand him.”
The elevator door opened on the bottom floor, this area of the school having fewer people around. I’d memorized the layout of the school, of the different buildings, so I knew them rather well. This area mostly had storage and a few offices, such as for the art history professor. The parking garage opened right to this floor, which made it perfect with its wide hallways and direct access without stairs for a man who struggled to walk far or navigate stairs.
“You never give yourself enough credit,” I said as we went down the long hallway, my focus tuned to our surroundings even as we spoke.
She glanced at the side toward me for a moment, reminding me that I’d picked up the conversation a tad bit late. It was a risk of my profession, since I split my attention between the client and the environment. It meant occasionally I filed away our conversation and picked it up a few moments too late, forcing the other person to catch back up.
However, Kenz was quick enough to manage it well. “I don’t know about that,” she hedged.
“It’s true. You always think the things you are talented with are unimportant or don’t matter or anyone can do, then you focus your attention on the things you struggle with. I’ve known Char a while, and I can assure you,no onehandles him the way you do. You need to have more confidence in yourself.”
She didn’t respond at first, but I hadn’t really expected her to. I knew better than that. She worried too much, didn’t see her own worth that was so obvious to everyone else.
We had time, though.
When was the last time I thought such a thing?
It almost took me by surprise how casually I thought about things like that now, how much I considered a future, just accepting it. With Lorien backing off, with things settling down, could I actually have such a thing?
I glanced at Kenz, trying to keep it subtle, wondering how on Earth I’d managed to luck out so much?
“Here it is.” Kenz came to a stop in front of a door with a silver plate on the front, the professor’s name and department etched into it. She knocked on the door softly, and the voice of an elderly man called back out.
Yeah, he sounds like someone who would spit when he talks…
Kenz walked into the room, and through the door I caught a sight of an older man who could have played the nearly senile professor in any movie. His back was to the door, his hands reaching for a book off a tall shelf. It reassured me that the professor was in fact in there.
The door shut behind Kenz, and I turned my back to it, standing watch outside, keeping track of the empty hallway.
No sound escaped the rooms, but I’d found the doors in this school to be rather thick. Then again, while their focus and prestige was mostly in the fine arts, they did have both music and theater courses. Good soundproofing was no doubt a benefit for such things.
A part of me felt antsy, but I reminded myself that I couldn’t expect to interfere with her schooling. Our actions had caused her enough strife, making her life much harder than it needed to be. The least I could do was sit through her meetings and classes she tried to catch back up.
My phone vibrated, and I sighed when I spotted the caller. I had no idea what Char wanted, but knowing him, he probably had to get the last word from our last argument.
“What?” I answered.
“Do you have eyes on Kenz?” His tone put me on alert. He wasn’t the type to make jokes about something this important.
“She’s in the office with the professor.”
“I called into the office to ask about that professor’s office hours. He isn’t scheduled in until Monday.”
Part of me came up with other ideas, that the professor had come in just to meet with her, but my body reacted before I could voice any of them. I gripped the handle of the door and twisted it, but nothing happened.Locked.
It wasn’t the first door I kicked down—I doubted it would be the last.
I moved back and slammed my boot against the door, but unlike those in the house, this one refused to give. I called Kenz’s name, but no answer came back, heightening the fear that plagued me.
I moved backward, then ran at the door, using the wider hallway to my advantage for momentum. Pain shot through my shoulder when I struck the door, but between hurling my bodyweight at it and the previous kick, it gave up the good fight, the doorjamb giving way so it opened.
And inside the room, my heart stopped. The window was open to the outside, a man was dead on the floor—the man I had thought was the professor—and there was no sign of Kenz.
