"Don't you dare touch me!" Deborah shouted, pushing him away. "After twenty years of marriage, you're cheating on me?" Her words came out as a hiss. "And with a woman half your age? If you were going to have a midlife crisis, couldn't you have just bought a sports car or gotten a tattoo or dyed your hair like everybody else does?"
"Listen, Deb, I swear she didn't mean a thing to me." Again, Geoffrey reached out to her, but she sidestepped him. "I guess I just got bored, and then I realized what a horrible mistake I'd made getting involved with her." He shrugged. "In fact, I've known that for a while, not just because you found out. I'd already told her that it's over, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. I love you. You have to believe me. Our marriage is the most important thing in the world to me, and I never meant to jeopardize it by doing something stupid like this. Please forgive me, please."
Deborah studied Geoffrey's face for a moment. His eyes were pleading with her, the expression on his face earnest. He seemed to mean what he said. Perhaps he really had already broken off his affair. Perhaps they could work things out after all.
"Geoffrey, this isn't something I can just forgive and forget just like that, you know," she said, folding her arms across her chest and assuming a defiant stance. She continued to look at him.
"I understand, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you, and I want to work this out. I'm over this stupid fling, and I'll never see Courtney again, I promise."
Deborah began to soften, and for the first time since she'd found out about her husband's affair, she began to feel hopeful. She gave him half a smile, which was just enough encouragement for him to move closer and put his arms around her shoulders.
She leaned into him, still angry and hurt, but not wanting to end her long marriage. "You're serious that you'll never see her again?" She whispered, dropping her arms and wrapping them around his waist. His familiar scent was comforting, his embrace safe and steady. Maybe everything will be all right after all, she allowed herself to think.
Geoffrey kissed the side of her head and nestled his cheek against her hair. "As a matter of fact, I'll make sure that neither one of us will ever have to see her again, ever," he promised, his voice soothing. "You can count on it. You have my word."
CHAPTER 10
Dylan Roberts strode out of the university gymnasium just after the sun had set across the long, flat horizon. There were no hills or mountains in this part of Kansas. It was all one big broad prairie. He was hot and sweaty from his workout, and the cold night air was a welcome relief. As he walked briskly along the sidewalk towards the campus dorm where he shared a suite with several other students, he fumbled for his cellphone. After a few minutes, he finally found it at the bottom of his black backpack, beneath several books and notebooks.
He pressed the speed dial entry labeled Courtney Adams, his longtime girlfriend, and listened to the line ring several times. Dylan and Courtney had met when they were both students in high school in a small town in Western Kansas. She was the captain of the cheerleading squad, and he was the star quarterback for the school's football team.
He knew he was lucky to have led a life of privilege, being the only child of parents who owned one of the largest farms in Western Kansas. Wheat and cattle had been the farm's main sources of income, but a few years ago oil had been discovered on their property and it had made the Roberts family very, very wealthy.
One of the perks of the new source of wealth was the private plane his father had bought, that he used to oversee his vast property holdings. Dylan's mother had told him that his father's dream had always been to own a plane and she was pretty sure overseeing the farm was just an excuse he used to justify the purchase. She'd gone on to tell Dylan that she really didn't care, since they had more money than they could ever spend. About the only other area where they splurged was with their wine collection. They were both connoisseurs and greatly enjoyed their shared pleasure.
As the star high school quarterback, being a handsome blue-eyed blond, physical traits he'd inherited from his Swedish mother, and coming from the wealthiest family in the area, Dylan had his pick of the young girls at his school. But the only one who had interested him was a dark-eyed beauty named Courtney Adams. Her mother was poor by his family's standards, and Courtney had never known her father. Dylan and Courtney were about as unlikely a match as one could think of, but for whatever reason, the head cheerleader and the football quarterback had been a pair since the middle of their junior year in high school. His family loved her almost as much as he did, and she spent as much time at his family's farm as she did at the small apartment she shared with her mother.
Dylan was supportive of her dream of becoming a bestselling author, and she encouraged him to get a degree in business, so he could take over the farm when his parents felt it was time. For both of them, it was a special and magical time in their lives, being in love and pursuing their dreams at a university. What could go wrong?
Back then, the two of them had been crazy in love and couldn't imagine life without each other. They were so close they couldn't stand the thought of being apart when they finished high school and went away to college. They were able to gain admittance to the same university and planned on getting married as soon as they were finished with their undergraduate studies.
But in the last couple of months Dylan felt that Courtney had been acting strangely, and he was increasingly concerned about what might be going on in her life. Together, they'd had a great freshman year at the university, but their sophomore year had felt strained to Dylan. Not long after the first week of classes, Courtney started canceling plans they'd made and making excuses why she couldn't see him as often. Throughout the fall semester, Dylan had grown increasingly depressed the more he thought that there was a distinct possibility he was losing Courtney.
He couldn't understand what was going on with her. She'd been his whole world since the day he met her. His devotion to her never wavered. If anything, it had strengthened over time. What was bothering Dylan was the niggling doubt that her feelings for him were not as strong as they once had been.
When she finally answered her phone, he felt a wave of relief. "Hey, Court, just wanted to check in and see how your day went."
"Oh, you know, it was the usual. I had classes all day, and now I'm at the library working on a paper that's due tomorrow," Courtney said.
"Let's go out for coffee or some ice cream when you finish your study session at the library. Sound good to you?" Dylan asked, wondering if she was really at the library this evening or if she was just saying that. Recently, there had been several times when he'd gone to the library when she said she was going to be studying there, but he'd been unable to find her.
"Ah, Dylan, I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight. I already have other plans."
Every time Dylan had talked to Courtney lately, he'd felt frustrated, and this time was no different. "Court, it seems that anymore you always have plans when I call you to do something with me. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"No, that's not true. C'mon babe. Just yesterday we had lunch together."
"The only reason that happened was because I ran into you in the cafeteria just as you were sitting down to eat. I don't think that counts as getting together and having lunch," he retorted, trying to keep his temper at bay.
"C'mon, Dylan, I've told you several times that this has been a really busy semester for me. My classes are harder, and my professors are asking so much more of me than they did during our first year here. It's really important to me to please them, so I can make the Dean's List. You know how much I want to get into graduate school when I finish my undergraduate degree."
Dylan kicked the dirt with his shoe. "It's got to be more than that, Courtney. Now you're using grades as an excuse not to see me. Why don't you just tell me the truth? Do you not want to be with me anymore?" He had to ask, even though he was half-afraid to hear her answer.
Courtney hesitated for a moment, then her
voice softened. "Dylan, of course I want to be with you, but this is just an incredibly busy time for me. Listen, how about we go home together after finals? We can catch up on the drive."
"Sure," Dylan said. Since he'd always been her ride home between semesters anyway, he didn't think the olive branch she was offering really meant all that much. He was having trouble reading between the lines, but he could tell that arguing with her at this point wasn't going to help him get any answers.
After Dylan hung up, he could barely contain his anger. He wanted to slam his cellphone down on the pavement and stomp it into a hundred little pieces. He didn't want to believe the rumors he'd been hearing, but the way Courtney had been avoiding him lately was making the gossip more and more plausible.
One of Dylan's friends from their gaming circle--a group that got together weekly to blow off steam playing the latest video games--was in a creative writing class with Courtney. His friend told him that their professor, Geoffrey White, was known for asking a young female student in his class every semester to help him with what he called special assignments, and this semester it seemed that Courtney had been the chosen one. The students were well aware that these special assignments got a lot more intimate than helping to grade the other students' papers and tests.
When he'd first heard the whispers, Dylan refused to believe it. Courtney was not that type of a young woman. He couldn't imagine that she would ever betray him like that, and especially not for some grumpy old professor. But what his friend had told him had planted a seed of distrust in Dylan's mind, especially when Courtney started behaving strangely after she'd started taking the Intermediate Creative Writing class from the professor. Now, it seemed there was always some excuse why she couldn't see him.
Graphic images of Courtney with some old professor flashed through Dylan's mind. The mere thought made his skin crawl. Dylan knew he was thinking irrationally, blinded by rage and heartache, but even so, he made a vow to himself. If he couldn't have Courtney, he'd make sure that her middle-aged, philandering creative writing professor wouldn't have her either.
He thought back to last week's gaming circle, and how he and his friends had competed online to devise the perfect crime. The new game had been their latest obsession, and Dylan had beaten all of them at the game by crafting a perfect murder. He'd found a way to not leave any evidence, any fingerprints, or any way for the murderer to be tracked down and identified. In order to win the game, the player had to devise a way to get away scot free. Dylan had won the game.
In his state of rage, he decided that since he'd been so successful at the game, maybe he could take his newly acquired skills offline and commit the perfect crime in flesh and blood.
CHAPTER 11
The next morning, Kat was sitting in front of her computer engrossed in the latest chapter of the novel she was writing, when her ringing phone interrupted her train of thought. She reached across her desk and picked it up before the phone rang a second time.
It was Blaine. "Hi, honey, I hope I'm not interrupting you."
Kat sat back in her chair. "You're never an interruption, my love. How is your morning going so far?"
"Well, I had a meeting with Frank Moore, the police chief, about this fraud case I told you about, you know, the one I want Ryan to try. While I was with the chief, he mentioned his detectives are investigating a rather nasty homicide that happened last night."
"Oh gosh, that's awful. Is it anyone we know?" Kat asked.
"As a matter of fact, it was Courtney Adams, the young woman you told me about last night, the one who was having an affair with Geoffrey White."
"Oh no, Blaine," Kat exclaimed, raising a hand to her mouth. "What happened?"
"Chief Moore didn't give me too many specifics. It seems that another student found her body on a stairway landing in her apartment building. She'd been brutally stabbed with a sharp instrument."
"That's just horrible. The poor girl, she had her whole life ahead of her. I sure hope this didn't have anything to do with her involvement with Professor White. And I can only imagine what Deborah will be thinking once she finds out her husband's lover has been murdered. I wonder if I should call her and check in to see how she's holding up."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea right now," Blaine said. "Extramarital affairs and crimes of passion can get pretty nasty. I know you care about your friend, but I'd feel a lot better if you didn't get involved in it, plus we really don't know all the details."
"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll wait and see what happens. Anyway, it's not like I can do anything for her, other than just be a friend, but I sure feel sorry for her for what she's no doubt going to have to go through. That's a horrible situation to be in."
"I have to get back to my case with Ryan, but I wanted to give you a heads-up on it. Good luck on your writing session today. I'll see you tonight."
"Thanks for calling," Kat said. "I love you."
After the call was ended, Kat had just resumed writing the next few paragraphs of her book when once again she was interrupted by her cell phone ringing.
She recognized the name on her cell phone screen. It was Mitzi, her closest friend. "Hi, Mitzi, how are you?"
"I'm fine, but given everything that's happened, I'm wondering how you are?"
"Great, but I'm not sure what you're getting at. Why do you ask?"
"I'm taking it you haven't heard about the young woman who was murdered in her apartment building last night. It was just off campus. It's all over the news."
"Yes, I just got off the phone with Blaine, and he told me about it. That's the second murder of a college coed in just a few months. I can't believe it's happened again. What a tragedy."
"Kat, have you watched any television this morning?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"Remember the newswoman who made innuendos that Blaine might have been involved in Judge Dickerson's murder?"
Kat remembered all right. "How could I forget her? She's a horrible person."
"Couldn't agree more, but the thing is now she's making innuendos about who might have murdered the coed, and I thought you should know about it."
"I'm sorry, Mitzi. I'm not being deliberately stupid, but I have no idea what you're getting at."
"Okay," she said taking an audible breath that was loud enough that Kat heard it on the other end of the phone. "I was in Susie's Salon yesterday afternoon and heard that you'd been there earlier."
"Yes, that's true," Kat said, "but I fail to see what that has to do with a murder."
"I'm getting there. Susie told me you were having lunch with Deborah White after your appointment, so I assumed she must be a friend of yours."
Kat's stomach dropped as she realized she had a good idea where the conversation was headed. "Yes, that's true. What does that have to do with anything?"
"The newswoman said the person who was murdered was a young coed. Then she went on to say there were rumors that the murder had been a crime of passion, because the young woman had been rumored to be having an affair with an English professor at the university who happened to be married to a dean at the university. I suppose the only saving grace was she didn't come right out and say that the name of the university dean was your friend, Dr. Deborah White."
"Oh, Mitzi, that's just horrible. When Blaine called, he didn't say there was any evidence that Deborah's husband did it, and he didn't tell me that anyone had been arrested. That newswoman herself should be arrested on some ethical charge for making such wild unsubstantiated allegations. That's news reporting, or fake news reporting, at its worse."
"I couldn't agree more. Trial by media. Sometimes I think this First Amendment thing has gone too far. Anyway, have you heard anything from your friend, Deborah? I wonder if she knows what's being said on television." Mitzi said.
"I have no idea. What a horrible thing to have to go through. I don't know if you know her, but she's a lovely person."
"Kat, this is none of my business, but l
et's assume that the part about the coed having an affair with the professor is true. Do you think she knows about it?"
Kat hesitated. She struggled, wondering to herself whether what Deborah had told her had been told to her in confidence, but she couldn't remember Deborah asking her not to tell anyone or to keep it a secret.
"Mitzi, Deborah just became aware of the situation involving her husband and the young coed recently. I have no idea what she's going to do about it. She's in a rather untenable position, and if that newswoman has already sniffed out the rumor that Deborah's husband was the young woman's lover, it's probably only a matter of time until the police find out too, and that's assuming they don't already know."
"Poor thing," Mitzi continued. "I really feel for your friend. I've only been married a few months, but I can't imagine having your marriage problems aired out in public like that. I don't know if it would be appropriate, but if you talk to her and if it is, tell her I'm sending good thoughts her way."
"I don't have any plans to be talking to her, but if I do, I certainly will. Thanks for giving me the heads up," Kat said as she ended the call.
CHAPTER 12
After her call from Mitzi ended, Kat stared at her computer screen, trying to get back in the groove of writing, but she couldn't get the thought of Deborah out of her mind. As if they were on the same wave length, her telephone rang and she saw that the call was from Deborah White.
When she answered, Kat heard Deborah's frantic voice on the other end. Deborah was so hysterical and crying so hard that Kat could barely make out what her friend was saying.
"Deborah, slow down. Are you okay? What's happening?"
Kat heard Deborah take a deep breath and then she began to cry again. "Kat, can I come over to your house? I need to talk to you. The police were just here, and I have no idea what to do."
"Yes, of course." Kat resigned herself to the fact that her plans for a day of uninterrupted writing were not going to happen. "Come right over. I'll be here."
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