AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The question has me thinking back to last night, and a low-level heat flash strikes.
“It’s…” Amazing. Orgasmic. I settle on, “Fantastic.”
“Ooohhhh,” She does a little dance on her toes. “Well, you did say his muscles are to die for.” His body is insane. All parts of him are bonkers. So often, tall men have chicken legs, like mine, but his are solid and muscular. “But did you find out…did you ask him about—”
“He’s not seeing anyone else.” She tilts her head, silently questioning. She’s being a good girlfriend because I unloaded a ton of doubt the other day. “I confirmed it.”
“Yay.” She grins. “This is like…I don’t know, what? A week. And you’re still liking him.”
“Ryan is… He’s… You know, at first, I said he was all business? Hard to read?” She nods. “He’s not as hard to read as you get to know him. He’s quite the big softy. He’s loyal. Intelligent.” I think about his sister, his complex relationship with her, and how much he cares about her. “He’s a good guy.”
Sabrina grins like a lunatic.
“What?”
“You like him.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Admitting it to Sabrina isn’t so hard at all. I mean, sure, last night he said he thought he might love me, but he said it in a post-sex grateful way. The way you say you love someone’s pudding. He loves having sex, and I have to say I do, too. Obviously, I like him. You can’t love having sex with someone you don’t like.
But he’s not normally a relationship guy. I’ll need to be realistic. He is a protective guy. And right now, he is feeling all kinds of protective. I can roll with this as long as I keep my head above water and my heart guarded. We’ve agreed to not date other people, and that’s something. Hell, technically, it’s a relationship. I’m in a relationship with cautious guardrails.
“Does he have friends?” Sabrina nudges me, hope written all across her bright, happy face.
“I’ll definitely ask.” She does a little jig, more than satisfied with my answer.
Back in my office, I lay out the files I procured from Jack’s home. On the bulletin board, I post photographs of the key players. Jack Sullivan. Sophia Sullivan. Wayne Killington. Larry Reyes. Carlos Morales. For good measure, I write the word “affair” in the center of the board.
I draw a dotted line between Larry Reyes and Carlos Morales, because we have photographs connecting them. I add Cliff Hartman’s name because he’s an executive, the compliance officer, and he visits the house frequently.
We have no idea who Cassandra had an affair with, but it’s an open-ended item, and one I still can’t wrap my head around. I never probed her on why her marriage ended. It’s not in my nature. But I keep thinking back to her saying, “We grew apart.” It doesn’t particularly matter as related to this case, but when searching for motivation, a jilted lover would qualify as a person of interest.
I am thumbing through the list of the board of directors and senior executives, searching for anyone else of relevance, or this time, someone I could see Cassie messing around with, but then I get another thought. They mentioned only someone with connections could arrange a swift execution of someone in a holding cell. Should we look for government connections? Should I look at who these men donate money to? Their political affiliations? I lift my pen to the whiteboard when a tap at the door stops me from unloading my rambling thoughts.
A young man with thick dark hair and deep brown eyes enters. He’s wearing black jeans, dress shoes, a gray button down shirt and a black blazer.
“Professor Rolfe?”
“Yes, hi.” He glances over my shoulder at the bulletin board. He blinks rapidly, and I interpret his reaction as recognition to at least one of the photographs. I haven’t been closely watching the news, but based on his response, I assume news coverage has expanded to include Larry Reyes. “May I help you?”
“Oh, yes. Hi. I’m a grad student in the foreign language department. But I heard you were doing some consulting with the FBI. I thought I’d stop by and introduce myself. I know you have a TA, but if you find yourself needing any additional resources, I want to volunteer.”
“Oh. Do you have an interest in criminal justice?”
“Absolutely.” He looks away, and his hand partially covers his mouth. Interesting.
“You’re back,” Timothy says, entering the small office behind the grad student.
“I am. Timothy is my TA,” I say to the young man. “And this is…” I gesture to him, letting the movement of my hand ask for his name.
“Raphael Hendrickson.” He shoves his hands into his front pockets and backs out of my office. “I’ll let you two get to it. I know it’s not your office time right now. I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Thanks, Raphael. If you send me an email, I’ll keep you in mind.”
He disappears down the hallway. His dress shoes click on the linoleum floor at a rapid pace.
“I thought the case was closed.” Timothy steps closer to the whiteboard to study the photos.
