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Very few, actually. He was too busy flirting with all the other girls. I think I’m losing my appeal.
Hardly,
Damien replied.
He must’ve finally learned you’re off limits, and if he values his life, he’ll leave you alone.
Hmm. Maybe. So do I finally get YOU as my escort at the end of this next hour?
Damien’s answer was immediate.
Or you could have me now.
We’d already had this discussion, though. I didn’t want him—oranyof the guys—skipping class just to follow me. I was surrounded by a campus full of people. Even if we were right and my attacker was some professor with the first name of Josh, I was sure I was fairly safe here.
The killer would have to be crazy to strike in the middle of the day when anyone could see something.
Nope,
I told my boyfriend.
You’re picking me up at eleven at the front of the English building as planned.
“Well, Professor Joshua Dudley is officially crossed off the list as a suspect,” Keene announced as he read something on his phone just as we reached the English building. Glancing at me, he explained, “The dude died last year.”
I winced for poor Dr. Dudley. But at least he wasn’t a killer. And thankfully our list of suspects had grown smaller.
At the door to my technical writing class, Keene paused me before saying goodbye. “Now, don’t forget, you’re supposed to wait for Archer at the front doors when you finish this class,” he said. “Alright, young lady?”
“Really?” I asked dryly. “I got this, Dad. You can go now.”
“Okay, okay.” He lifted his hands in surrender as he backed away. “But are you sure you have enough lunch money?”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Thanks for reassuring Damien by following me around campus,” I told him. “I owe you big.”
He blew me a kiss and began to back away. “Stay safe, Vargas.”
Heaving out a breath as he strolled off, I turned and entered the classroom.
The professor—Dr. Thornburg—was at the front, passing out the midterm as I entered. He was one of the few instructors on campus who still gave written, paper tests. And strangely he wasn’t old; the guy was fairly young.
But everyone had their own quirks, and he liked trying to decipher awful student penmanship, I guess.
“Take a test,” he called as a group of us entered together. “Take a seat! And take your time. But get to work.”
As I waited in line to retrieve my exam, Dr. Thornburg made eye contact with me and said, “Miss Vargas! Do you mind sticking around after class so I could have a word with you?”
“Uh…sure.” Confusion swamped me because—A—I had no idea what this might be about and—B—I wasn’t aware that he’d even known who I was.
But he only sent me a grateful smile as he handed me my test. “Thanks.”
Taking the stapled sheets, I found a seat and dug up my pen before I got started.
This was a big exam, and it counted for a fourth of my grade. It wasn’t something to shrug off, by any means. Except my brain kept going stir-crazy through the whole thing, wondering what he wanted to talk tomeabout, then wondering what his first name was.
The paranoia made my test time lag, and I was one of the last people left in the room by the time I finished.
Hoping I hadn’t just bombed my entire midterm, I stood and dragged my book bag with me as I carried the finished sheets to the front of the class.
