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When she glanced up, the stacks were almost empty, and a few last-minute students were packing up and getting ready to leave.
She sighed, rubbing her eyes, and making peace with the fact that she needed some sleep in order to continue at her current pace.
Wearily, she pushed back her chair and rose from the table, shoving a strand of red hair behind her ear as she gathered up her work and slid it into her book bag. After analyzing a half dozen of Shakespeare’s tragedies, she was still grappling with the psychology of his antagonists, the mastery of which was a crucial part of her grade.
She paused, playing with the same thought she’d been entertaining all week long. She had an older cousin who was a specialist in human behavior and had even formed an investigative firm around it—a really renowned one. Casey Woods’s office was in Manhattan, just a train ride away. Problem was, their families had been estranged for so long that Trish and Casey didn’t know each other, and never spoke. So reaching out to her would take balls.
What if Casey got pissed off about being bothered by a college kid she barely remembered?
Trish weighed the options. She needed this grade. She knew someone with expertise. What was the worst that could happen? Casey would blow her off. And as the saying went, if you don’t ask, the answer is always no.
Trish would call Casey tomorrow.
With that, she scooped up her cell phone, slung her book bag over her shoulder and headed back to her dorm for some sleep.
She never made it there.
* * *
The last vestiges of night were lingering outside Ryan’s bedroom window. His bed was in shambles, as very few of the long, dark hours had been spent in slumber.
“Stay,” Ryan murmured into the tangled cloud of Claire’s hair.
“I think I already did.” Claire opened one eye, sensing that night would soon be turning into day. “What time is it?”
Ryan glanced at the illuminated dial of his clock radio. “Four-fifteen.”
“And you’re not grumpy? You, who needs his solid eight hours to function?”
“Some things are worth losing sleep over.”
A small smile curved Claire’s lips. “I’m honored.” She gave a huge yawn. “Also half-dead.”
“That’s because you ravaged my body.”
“Me? I think you’ve got that backward. My body aches in places it never knew it had.”
Chuckling, Ryan pulled the blanket up around them and settled Claire by his side. “We’ll call it a draw, okay?”
“Okay.” She was already drifting off.
“Good night, Claire-voyant.”
“Good night, techno-whiz.”
* * *
Casey’s cell phone rang.
She felt Hutch tense up next to her even as she jolted awake.
Her gaze fell on the alarm clock on her nightstand—4:35. That could mean nothing good.
She grabbed the phone, looking at the illuminated screen. Another blocked call.
Her insides went cold.
“Who is this?” she demanded.
