Creep

by Jennifer Hillier

  Sheila sat, dazed. There was a 99 percent chance he was bluffing—her gut told her there was no video anymore, he wouldn’t have had time to send it somewhere else from his phone before she’d made him delete it—but goddamn it, it wasn’t good enough. If anything like it ever showed up on CampusAnonymous.com, a website notorious for outrageous gossip and nasty comments about all things involving the university, she’d be ruined. The video would go viral before she could blink twice, and two decades of hard work would be snuffed out like a campfire in a thunderstorm.

  Having an affair with a student was one thing. It happened all the time—she could think of three professors who’d been involved with students in the past, who’d gotten nothing more than slaps on the wrist. And Ethan was twenty-three and neither of them were married, which counted for something.

  But a video? It wouldn’t matter whom she was screwing—a video of her writhing naked on the Internet would get her fired. No hearing, no chance to defend herself, just an hour to collect her personal belongings and she’d be out the door on her ass. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred.

  How could I have been so fucking stupid?

  A voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked up. Valerie Kim, one of Sheila’s other TAs, stood in the doorway just behind Ethan.

  “One sec, Val,” Ethan said to the petite young woman. His tone betrayed no hint of the tension that filled the office. “The professor and I are almost done here.”

  “That’s cool.” Valerie looked past Ethan into the office at Sheila. “I can come back in five.”

  “No need.” Sheila’s smile felt clownish. “Come in, Valerie.”

  Ethan stepped back into the office and made a show of bundling up the scattered term papers on the desk. Slinging his worn leather bag crosswise over his torso, he grinned at Sheila. “Dr. Tao, I’ll see you next week. Thanks for your time.”

  “Sure,” Sheila said. Her shoulders slumped and her back ached.

  Ethan winked at Valerie as he left the office. “She’s all yours.”

  She heard him whistling as he ambled down the hallway, not a care in the world, and her mind reeled. What the fuck had just happened?

  “So, Professor Tao, did you hear?” Valerie’s voice was breathy. The ponytailed teaching assistant plopped into the chair across from Sheila and rummaged in her bag for her own stack of papers to be reviewed. “Diana St. Clair’s body was found this morning.”

  “Hmmm?” Sheila could not process what the graduate student was saying. Somehow, she had completely underestimated Ethan Wolfe. He had outsmarted her, and how was that possible? Damn him. Damn her. This was a disaster. Could he really still have that video? He’d made it several weeks ago, and maybe her memory was foggy, but she was certain she’d seen him delete it right afterward, could remember her relief when she saw it was gone . . .

  “The swimmer? Diana St. Clair?” Valerie was saying.

  “Yes, of course I know she disappeared,” Sheila said, irritated. A drop of Ethan’s sweat remained on the desk and she swiped at it. She forced herself to focus on Valerie’s pretty face. “What’s the update?”

  “I don’t know all the details yet.” The grad student sounded appropriately somber, though her eyes were alight with morbid excitement. “She was found floating in Puget Sound early this morning. A ferry rider spotted her.”

  “She drowned?” Sheila’s hand flew to her mouth. Valerie had her full attention now. “How is that even possible?”

  Everyone was familiar with the story. It had been all over the news. Diana St. Clair was the pride and joy of PSSU, a champion Division I swimmer and Olympic hopeful. She’d gone missing after swim practice over a week before, and it was all anyone on campus could talk about. There’d been multiple theories about her disappearance: she’d eloped to Brazil with a guy she’d met online; she’d quit swimming but didn’t have the heart to tell her parents; she was pregnant and hiding it from her sponsors . . .

  “She didn’t drown, that isn’t how she died. I heard she was stabbed first.” Valerie paused for dramatic effect. “Multiple times.”

  Sheila sat up straight. “Holy shit!”

  Valerie looked pleased to hear her professor swear. “I heard they’re going to be putting new security measures in place because of this.” Clearly Valerie had heard a lot. “My boyfriend works part-time in the communications department. They’re sending out a bulletin later today.”

  “Holy shit.” Sheila felt disoriented as she tried to process the news.

  Diana St. Clair had been her student. Sheila had never known someone who was murdered.

  Until now.

  CHAPTER : 2

  The campus-wide e-mail sent out by the university’s security department did a good job of outlining the new safety measures that all faculty, staff, and students were to follow. But ultimately, it was all for nothing, because nobody was taking the memo seriously. Nobody at the university was worried.

  It had been almost a week since Diana St. Clair’s body had turned up, and Seattle PD still couldn’t confirm exactly where the swimmer had been when she was murdered. Her stabbed and decomposing body, bloated and gassy from days floating in Puget Sound, provided no evidence to suggest she was killed on university grounds or anywhere even near the university. Police had combed the campus and nothing had turned up. They had no idea whether she’d been stalked or snatched by someone she knew, or whether the killing was random. The only thing they could confirm was that Diana had engaged in sexual activity before she died, and that everyone close to her—including her boyfriend, fellow swimmer Donovan Langley—had airtight alibis for where they’d been at the time she was killed.

  In short, Seattle PD had nothing. And other than her obituary and a long, gushy article in the Puget Sound Village Voice (the school newspaper), nothing further had been written about Diana once she’d been buried.

  It was tragic. And to Sheila, the greatest tragedy wasn’t just that Diana had been murdered, but how quickly the beautiful student had been forgotten. Everyone had moved on. Local news was now flooded with stories of a bomb scare at Sea-Tac airport. What had the world come to?

  She sat alone in her office, trying to remember the last time she’d had contact with Diana. It had to have been about a year before, shortly before the social psych midterm during fall term. Diana had asked for an “early write,” a common request for student athletes who had obligations within their sport. Sheila had received a supporting letter from Diana’s coach so the swimmer could head to UC Irvine for the big Nike Cup Division I meet immediately afterward.

  It was funny how Sheila could remember something so specific from a year ago that in itself wasn’t memorable. But Diana herself had been an unforgettable person. Straight-A student, runway-model tall, long blond hair, focused. She’d had the world at her feet.

  Come to think of it, wasn’t it Ethan who’d proctored Diana’s exam that semester? Sheila wondered now what he thought of her murder. She had meant to ask his opinion about Diana’s disappearance after the swimmer was first reported missing. That was the morning she and Ethan had both come to work early. Without even saying hello, he’d kissed her neck and had reached under her skirt to pull down her panties, right here on the . . .

  A knock startled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see all six foot four of her investment-banker fiancé standing in the doorway. She felt her face flush. Christ.

  “I almost didn’t want to knock, you looked so deep in thought,” Morris Gardener said with a grin, his loud Texas twang filling her office. Morris used to play professional football, and his broad shoulders practically spanned the width of the doorway. “I hope you were thinking about me, darlin’.”

  “You don’t want to know what I was thinking about,” she said, the last word coming out a croak from her dry throat. Her water bottle was on the desk in front of her and she took a sip before getting up to give him a kiss.

  His strong arms held her close for a few seconds. Resting he
r face against his burly chest, she breathed in his scent. Soap and water and spicy aftershave, a comforting combination. He kissed her again.

  “This is a surprise. What brings you by?” She sat back down and smoothed her skirt, an excuse to dry her sweaty palms. She was breathless, though there was no physical cause for it. She looked at her fiancé, sitting across from her at the very desk she and Ethan had once . . .

  Stop it.

  Morris beamed at her, blue eyes twinkling. “I need a reason to see my future wife?”

  “Never.” She forced a smile. “But it’s been awhile since you dropped by to see me at work.”

  And thank God for that, you stupid twat. You’re going straight to hell.

  “I forgot how nice your office is.” Morris relaxed in his chair and looked up at the cheerful yellow walls and numerous potted plants. His eyes fixed on a framed photo of the two of them the night they got engaged. “I don’t normally surprise you, do I?”

  “Well—”

  “That’s why I brought you this.” He pulled a skinny velvet box from his breast pocket and slid it across the desk. “Surprise, beautiful. One year ago we had our first official date. Happy anniversary.”

  She stared at it, the realization sinking in. “Oh, shit, it is our anniversary. It totally slipped my mind.” She was horrified at yet another lapse.

  He winked. “I figured as much. No worries. You’ve been busy with work and planning the wedding, and I’ve had my head up my ass with that Okinawa deal. I’m amazed I actually remembered.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She visualized slapping herself hard across the face. Stupid bitch. You don’t deserve him.

  “Well, don’t just sit there looking like a bigmouth bass. Open it.” Morris pushed the box closer to her.

  “What is it?”

  “Goddamn it, woman, open it,” he said, laughing. “Only one way to find out.”

  She took the velvet box in her hands and turned the silver latch. Her breath caught as she lifted the lid. Nestled inside on a bed of dark blue satin lay a diamond tennis bracelet, glittering like little stars under the fluorescent lights of her office.

  It was magnificent.

  “Oh, wow,” she breathed.

  He was studying her face. “Do you like it?”

  “Do I like it?” Her eyes were fixed on the bracelet in dazed awe. “Of course I like it, you crazy man. It’s gorgeous!”

  “If it’s too long, I can have the jeweler take out a couple of the diamonds, maybe make you a pair of earrings.” He was clearly delighted at her reaction, and his grin stretched ear to ear. And he was the one who’d done the giving.

  She held the bracelet up to the light and stared at it in wonder. Her eyes welled with tears. “Morris . . . you really shouldn’t have. This is too much.”

  “It’s worth it just to see the look on your face,” he said triumphantly. His expression was so loving she almost broke down. “It’s an early wedding present. You deserve it, honey. You deserve everything I can give you.”

  No, I don’t. I really don’t. She wanted to crawl under her desk and die. The desk where she’d let Ethan put his dirty hands all over her.

  She stuck her arm out toward him, her smile garish and fake. “Put it on me?”

  He obliged. It was a perfect fit, complementing her platinum engagement ring beautifully.

  “Damn, there go my earrings,” she managed to joke.

  Morris raised an eyebrow. “Good thing I put something on hold at the jewelry store then. Christmas is only a few months away.”

  The shame of it was too much. Struggling to compose herself, Sheila came around the desk and sat in Morris’s lap, wrapping her arms around his thick neck. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing his lips, his forehead, his chin, feeling the dampness in his hair from the rain outside. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. Just like you.”

  “I love you, too,” Morris said, returning the kisses. He stroked her hair. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”

  Sheila pulled back a few inches so she could see his face clearly. It was now or never. “Morris, there’s something I need—”

  A movement caught her eye.

  Her words died when she saw Ethan standing in her open doorway, watching them. She hadn’t seen him in days, not since their breakup and subsequent showdown. His face was hard, his eyes narrowed into slits. When he realized he’d been noticed, his features immediately arranged themselves into a more neutral expression.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Tao.” Ethan’s words were polite but his voice was edgy. He held up the book he was carrying. “Just returning this to you.”

  Morris handed Sheila a tissue and she hurriedly wiped her eyes, getting up out of her fiancé’s lap. “That’s fine, Ethan. Go ahead and leave it there.” She indicated the short, crammed bookshelf beside her door.

  Ethan placed the book atop the pile of papers, his eyes darting toward Morris. The grad student’s jaw worked tightly and his movements were stiff. He seemed unnaturally tense, but then again, Ethan had never met Morris. Maybe he’d assumed Sheila had broken off the engagement after his threats the other week. Threats that continued to hang like a noose around her cheating neck.

  The graduate student finally stuck his hand in Morris’s direction.

  “You must be the lucky man who gets to marry Dr. Tao,” Ethan said, his warm tone contradicting the coldness in his eyes. “I recognize you from the photos on the wall. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”

  Morris stood, his presence immediately dwarfing Ethan’s. Grasping the younger man’s hand, he pumped hard, his typical hearty handshake.

  “Thanks, thanks a lot. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Ethan Wolfe. I’m one of the professor’s teaching assistants.” His eyes flicked toward Sheila. “How long have we been together now? Three months?”

  “You mean three terms.” Sheila’s voice was strangled.

  “Of course!” Morris said, too loudly for the modest-size office. “She’s mentioned you several times.”

  Sheila bit her tongue. Always the polite Texan. Ethan’s name had never once come up in conversation with Morris, she was certain as hell of that.

  “So tell me, Ethan.” Morris was wearing his wiseass grin. “What’s it like working for this one? She as tough on you guys as she is on me?”

  “Oh, she’s definitely demanding.” Ethan winked at Sheila, who was watching the whole exchange in dazed shock. “Never afraid to tell me what she needs. But it’s all good. I’ve learned how to butter her up.”

  Don’t vomit. “You mean the homemade oatmeal raisin cookies?” Sheila’s stomach was in knots. “The ones your girlfriend makes?”

  Ethan laughed and relaxed against the doorframe. “Right. The cookies. It’s my girlfriend’s grandmother’s recipe,” he said, addressing Morris. “Been in her family a long time. Whenever I need a special favor, I bring in a plate of Abby’s freshly baked cookies for Dr. Tao. Never fails to get me what I want.”

  It took all of Sheila’s self-restraint not to backhand the cockiness out of Ethan’s pretty face.

  Morris looked at Sheila, feigning scrutiny, and elbowed her good-naturedly. “Is that right? Interesting how you’ve never brought any cookies home for me.”

  “She eats them all at work,” Ethan said. “She says they taste better than the ones she eats at home.”

  Sheila thought she might faint.

  Morris laughed heartily, clearly missing the double entendre. Sheila’s back and shoulders began to ache. Her office had never felt so small.

  “You hit the nail on the head with that one.” Morris clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “She does have a sweet tooth. Though I haven’t seen her eating anything too sweet lately, what with the wedding coming up and all. She wants to be a skinny-minny in her wedding dress. You know women.”

  “I sure do.” Ethan’s eyes gleamed. “Dr. Tao, since I caught you, I do have a favor to ask. Unfortunately I did
n’t bring any cookies.” His tone grew serious, and Sheila felt another wave of nausea roll over her.

  “What is it, Ethan?” She forced what she hoped would pass for a natural smile.

  His gaze zeroed in on her new diamond bracelet. “I was hoping you would let me out of my proctoring duties for next week’s finals. I’m getting behind on my thesis and want to schedule some interviews down at the soup kitchen. Try as I might, I can’t be in two places at once.”

  He’s not serious. In all the years Sheila had supervised teaching assistants, she couldn’t recall a single one asking to be let out of exam duty. It was part of the job.

  She searched frantically for the right words, struggling to keep her voice composed. “This is rather short notice. I’ll have to ask someone from Dr. Easton’s class to cover for you. Midterms are next Tuesday. And don’t you have several requests for early writes?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Yep, I actually have four scheduled. But you know, you have been working me really hard lately, so I kind of think you owe me a favor.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, head cocked to one side.

  Motherfucking asshole bastard.

  Sheila risked a glance at Morris and saw that his expression was one of wary politeness. Morris was big, and Morris was loud, but Morris wasn’t stupid. She knew he’d picked up on the subtle tension that had suddenly dropped into the air.

  “I guess I have been,” Sheila said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.” Ethan looked at Morris. “She really is fabulous to work for. All the grad students in psych request Dr. Tao.

  I’m very lucky to have her as my adviser. Anyway, I should get home, but it was terrific meeting you, Morris.” Ethan stuck his hand out again.

  Morris shook it, but this time he didn’t pump with quite the same enthusiasm as he had moments earlier. “Likewise. Be careful getting home, son. It’s raining pretty hard out.”

  Ethan bristled at the word son, but he turned and left the office as quietly as he’d come. Sheila headed back around her desk and slumped into her chair, exhausted. Wiping her palms on her skirt again, she worked at controlling her emotions, keeping her hands under the desk so Morris wouldn’t see them trembling. She listened for Ethan’s footsteps and was relieved when they finally receded.