by Holly Kelly
“Yes. How good are you?”
Her question caught him off guard. “At finding people?”
She nodded and said, “Let’s say, an abandoned baby turns up with no sign of who her mother and father are. Do you think you can figure out who she belongs to?”
Nick raised an eyebrow. This was not some random question she pulled out of the air. “It depends.”
“On?” she asked.
“Whether her parents left any clues.” He shrugged.
“Let’s say they didn’t.”
“Well,” he said, “you could have the child’s DNA tested and see if her parents or any of her relatives turn up in the database.”
“And what if they don’t?”
“I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to tell you how to find them without knowing more about the situation. Like, where was she found? What kinds of clothes was she wearing? Does anyone remember seeing anything unusual?”
“I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” he interrupted. “You gave us a situation that caused us to think. And that is the most important thing about investigation. You need to use your brain along with your eyes. The smallest, most insignificant detail can be the key to solving a case.”
He turned back and retrieved the syllabi from off his desk and started passing them around. “This is what we are going to cover throughout the year. And if you noticed, we have a field trip planned in which you can see firsthand what kind of career you are getting yourself into.”
As he expected, there were smiles all around. It didn’t matter if you were in first grade, high school, or college. Everyone loved a field trip. And there was no better place to learn than in the field.
The following hour and a half went by smoothly, and he found teaching this basic class was a cinch. Besides, it gave him an excuse to share the success stories he’d seen and been a part of. They were what made his job worthwhile. He frowned when he thought about the failures he’d experienced. They were an inevitable part of the job—one his students should know about before deciding to commit to this life. Some people couldn’t handle it. Hell, he could barely handle it.
When he ended the class, the students began to pack up their books and tablets. He wanted to find an excuse to talk to Fae again but squelched the idea. He really needed to back down. She was his student, and he was her teacher. He swallowed down his regret.
Chapter 3
Fae’s head felt like it was going to explode. The day had been enlightening, filled with information, and completely draining. She gave Mrs. Albrecht a passing grin and headed straight for her room.
She hadn’t been assigned any real homework yet—just introductions to the class and a get-to-know-me worksheet where she was supposed to bear her soul to her psychology professor—as if that would ever happen.
Fae wished she could plop onto her bed and sleep the rest of the day, but she had zero funds and needed a job in a big way. Instead, she dropped her bag on her desk and headed back across campus to the employment center.
Her heart dropped when the saw the sparse listings. Coming in and trying to find a job so late in the game, she may have a hard time getting one.
Cafeteria server…minimum wage. That was no surprise.
Landscape worker…minimum wage and morning work. Yeah, that wouldn’t work with her schedule.
Custodial work…minimum wage and late night work. That was a possibility.
Model, working with the Art department…well above minimum wage and the hours vary. Must be willing to pose nude. Nope. Forget it. Not a possibility.
Her eyes remained glued to the per-hour figure. She wouldn’t have to work as many hours if she did that job. She’d have more time to study.
No, who was she fooling? She absolutely couldn’t do it!
She forced herself to look at the next entry.
Custodial work…bathroom maintenance…minimum wage and late-night work. Bathroom maintenance? What in the world did that mean? Probably plunging stopped up toilets. Ugh!
The rest of the listings were no more appealing than the first.
Fae jotted down the numbers to contact on several possibilities. As a last-minute impulse, she also jotted down the modeling number. Of course, she wouldn’t do it. But if all the other jobs didn’t pan out…
No! She’d work off campus if she had to. Of course, that may be difficult with no car.
Wandering back to her dorm room, exhaustion nearly overwhelmed her as financial worries plagued her mind. Her thoughts derailed when she approached the door to her room. Water pooled from underneath and inched its way down the hall.
“Hey, Fae!” Morgan smiled as she sauntered up. “Wow, ‘hey’ rhymes with ‘Fae.’” Her smile widened. She slipped in the puddle, and Fae caught her by the arm before she could fall.
Fae frowned. “Looks like our room is flooded.”
Morgan’s eyes turned to the floor, widening slowly. “Oh, no,” she said as she yanked open the door. She splashed through a half an inch of water to get to a large leather case lying on the floor under her bed. “Oh, please don’t be wet,” she said as she put in on her bed and unzipped it.
“Is that your portfolio?” Fae asked, looking around. Water covered the entire floor. Part of the wall looked soggy, and the paint peeled in a patch where the wall met the ceiling. Looked like a broken pipe. Thank heavens she didn’t leave any of her things on the floor.
Her eyes returned to Morgan’s, now brimming with tears.
Fae stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
Morgan shook her head. “They’re ruined. Every drawing and painting I’ve saved clear back from junior high until now. They’re all soaked.”
“I’m really sorry,” Fae said.
Morgan was too choked up to talk.
“Maybe we can save some,” Fae said. “Is there a way to dry them?”
“You mean like hanging them up on a clothesline?”
Fae shrugged.
“It might work. They’d never be perfect again, but maybe…” Morgan’s voice trailed off.
“Maybe once you dry them and put them in a frame, you won’t be able to tell they’d ever gotten wet.”
Morgan’s eyes lit with hope. “Maybe.”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Albrecht cried out. “What happened?” She stepped to the edge of the advancing water. “Oh, poor Morgan,” Mrs. Albrecht looked at her soaked pictures. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Is there someplace I can hang these up?” Morgan asked.
“I’m sure we can figure something out, dear.” She turned to Fae. “Are your things okay, sweetie?”
“I think so,” Fae answered.
“Oh, good,” Mrs. Albrecht said. “Now let’s move you girls and I’ll call maintenance.”
An hour later, Fae stepped out of the door into the hall. She’d just gotten settled in her new room. It didn’t seem new, though. All the rooms looked identical. Morgan didn’t mention the fact they were as far away from the bathroom as you could get. Perhaps it was better that way. It was likely a bathroom pipe that burst.
Morgan oversaw her artwork that hung in rows behind the check-in desk. She’d had several admirers ask about them and offer to pay her money to paint pictures for their rooms.
“Hey, Fae!” Morgan called out, once again cheerful. “Do you want some company?”
Fae shook her head. “I’m just going to take a swim.”
“Are you a swimmer?” Her eyebrows rose.
“Um, not really. I swim for fun. It helps me relax.” She didn’t mention the fact she’d never actually swam in a swimming pool. She usually frequented watering holes.
“Cool. You’ll have to navigate the crowds to get there. There’s some kind of celebration going on.”
“I’ll be careful,” Fae said, smiling.
Morgan wasn’t kidding. Fae stepped outside the dorm to see a crowd of partying college students in the
courtyard. Chaos surrounded her, and the roar of music, shouting, and mayhem filled her ears. Looking around, she could identify a clear division. There were the jocks on the left, mixed with cheerleaders and admiring fans, and then there were normal-looking people talking and slipping peeks at the jocks and cheerleaders. And then there were school officials running booths, sitting in dunk tanks, and mingling with students on both sides of the social divide.
“Hey, beautiful,” someone shouted.
Fae looked over to see a big jock approaching her—probably a linebacker. Was he talking to me?
“Um, hi,” Fae answered as she clutched her towel to her chest. She really wished she’d worn more than a wrap around over her hips. At least she didn’t wear her bikini. She already felt half naked. And I thought I could pose nude. As if!
As he got closer, she could see that he was seriously good looking, for a football player. And she guessed he was an upperclassman. He looked too old to be fresh out of high school. A frown settled on his face. It looked like he didn’t think she was so beautiful up close.
“You’re not a freshman, are you?”
“Actually,” she said. “I am.”
“Really?” His face lit up. “It’s my lucky day.”
She puzzled over what he was talking about. Before she could even guess his intentions, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her forward, and smashed his lips against hers. Pain, mixed with the taste of blood and alcohol, penetrated her lips as she pushed against him. It was like pushing against a brick wall.
Her temper flared as she opened her mouth and chomped down, biting him. He pulled back, shouting as she stomped his foot. He lifted his injured foot and hopped up and down and howled. Clenching her fist, she swung. She felt the bones of his nose crunch along with a sharp pain in her hand. And down he went.
Arms came around her from behind, pulling her back. “Whoa, babe. He was only playing. We dared him to kiss the next freshman he saw.”
“He’s out cold,” someone said.
“What’s going on here?” a familiar voice asked.
Fae’s heart sank when she looked up—Mr. Larsen, the dean of students approached. His eyes widened when he looked down at the unconscious form sprawled on the ground. Blood leaked from the corner of the kid’s mouth and flowed from his nose.
“Who did this?” the dean asked.
All eyes turned on her.
“Fae Miller?”
A lump filled her throat as she nodded.
“You’re coming with me,” he said as he took her arm and dragged her toward the administration building. Almost as an afterthought, he yelled, “Someone call a doctor.”
He barely gave her a chance to keep her footing. She lost a flip-flop in the process but didn’t mention it. She had a feeling if she stumbled, he’d simply drag her across the ground. She looked up when they entered the building, and her heart sank. Why did he have to be there? Professor Chase stood in the reception area, his eyes wide.
The dean ignored all the onlookers and dragged her into his office. “This is completely unacceptable behavior,” he snapped, shutting the door.
“I was just defending myself,” Fae said, her angst rising.
“And how did Mike Pendleton end up unconscious on the ground while you have scarce an injury?”
Fae could feel her lip throbbing and touched it. Blood coated her finger.
“A split lip is nothing compared with the injuries you inflicted on your victim. From the looks of it, he has a broken nose and possibly a concussion. It’s highly unlikely he’ll be able to play in the next big game.”
“He grabbed hold of me and kissed me,” Fae argued. “I tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t stop. Are you saying I don’t have the right to defend myself against a sexual assault?”
“Sexual assault?” His jaw dropped. “He only kissed you!”
“Hard enough to split my lip!” Fae clenched her fists. “This is so unfair!”
Mr. Larsen frowned. “I knew admitting you would be a mistake. People like you don’t change. We can pull you out of the bayou and give you a bath, but we can’t change what’s inside.”
“You have no idea who I am and what I’ve been through!” Fae bellowed.
“Oh, I know your kind.” The dean’s eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me,” a deep, familiar voice spoke from behind. “I couldn’t help overhearing. Perhaps I can help.”
Fae turned to see Professor Chase poke his head inside the door. She turned her eyes to the floor and swallowed.
“And who are you?” Mr. Larson asked.
“Special Agent Nick Chase of the FBI.”
“This has nothing to do with the FBI. This is a private school matter.”
Professor Chase stepped fully into the room.
“Actually,” he said, frowning at the dean, “I also teach Introduction to Criminal Justice System. And either way, protecting the innocent and prosecuting criminals has everything to do with what I do.”
“I’ll need to ask Mr. Pendleton if he wants to press charges against Ms. Miller,” the dean said. “But even if he does, I don’t know why the FBI would concern itself with this affair.”
“From what I understand, Ms. Miller is not the perpetrator of a crime; it’s Mr. Pendleton who faces sexual assault charges.”
“What?” The dean paled. “But he’s the one who ended up bleeding on the ground.”
“Mr. Pendleton was the instigator of the assault and Fae Miller was within her rights to defend herself.”
The dean shook his head, obviously stunned. “Wait a minute. You know her?”
“Fae is in my class.”
Fae glanced over at Professor Chase. He wasn’t smiling, but a sparkle lit his eye. A warm trickle trailed down her lip onto her chin, and his amusement turned to a scowl. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a handkerchief.
Who carries handkerchiefs these days?
Stepping toward her, he lifted it to her lip and pressed. “Hold that there until the bleeding stops.”
She nodded.
“And you might want to have a doctor look at that. Human mouths are dirty things—especially the mouths of drunk football players.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“I don’t think you understand the situation,” the dean said. “Mr. Pendleton is an exceptional athlete and a good student. Ms. Miller was homeless, up until a short time ago—living in the backwoods, prostituting herself.”
“That’s a lie!” she said, stepping toward him.
Professor Chase moved in between them and frowned at the dean. “You do realize that unless you have evidence to support your claim, you are committing slander against Ms. Miller.”
A loud thump and a commotion came from outside the office.
“I need to see her,” a voice wailed. “Get away from me. I need her!”
Mike Pendleton exploded into the room and rushed like a freight train toward Fae. She barely had time to gasp when he plowed into her, knocking her to the floor. Nick Chase was on him in a moment, pulling Mike off her and slamming him face down on the floor.
“Get off me,” Mike wailed. “I just want one more kiss. Just one more.”
Professor Chase muscled Mike’s arms behind his back and handcuffed him. “Mike Pendleton, I assume?” He looked over at the dean, who was too stunned to answer and then he turned to Fae. She nodded as she rubbed the back of her head. It throbbed from the impact.
“I just need one more kiss,” Mike moaned. “Just one more.”
“Mike Pendleton, you have the right to remain silent…” Professor Chase drove his knee into Mike’s back as continued to read him his rights. When he finished, he pulled out his cell phone and called for a patrol car.
“What’s wrong with him?” Fae asked.
“You probably gave him brain damage,” the dean said through his teeth.
Professor Chase turned to him and snapped, “You. Shut up!”
“You
can kiss your teaching job goodbye, Agent Chase.”
“I’d be more worried about your job.”
“But I…I didn’t do anything wrong,” the dean said.
“And that’s how screwed up you are,” Professor Chase said. “You don’t even realize how wrong your behavior is.”
Within the hour, Mike was off to jail and the dean faced an inquiry. Fae sat quietly on a bench outside the administration building, shivering. The sun had gone down, and the air chilled her, raising goosebumps on her skin. She would have wrapped her towel around her shoulder, but she’d lost it somewhere along the way. Hopefully, someone would turn it in to the lost and found. She only had one towel. Could this day get any worse?
At least the questions had ceased. Professor Chase spoke to an officer but kept glancing at her. He seemed concerned, though after hearing the dean accuse her of prostitution, it was highly unlikely that his concern meant anything. He couldn’t possibly still be interested in her—if he had been in the first place.
She looked down at the handkerchief she wrung in her hand. The bleeding on her lip had stopped, but the cloth had a fair amount of blood on it. It seemed to be a nice handkerchief, with the initials NTC embroidered on it. Fae didn’t even know people still carried these things around. Did he want it back? Probably. Why else embroider your initials on it? Though she should probably wash it before she returned it to him—it was covered in her blood.
Nick Chase finished talking to the officer and sauntered over to sit down beside her. “I’m really sorry all this happened to you, Fae.”
He reached over as if to hold her hand. Her breath caught in her throat. “I’ll take that back.” He tugged the kerchief out of her hand. “Looks like the bleeding has stopped.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wash it for you?” she asked. Her voice sounded strained.
“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He shoved it in the pocket of a worn jacket. “Would you like me to walk you back to your dorm room?”
Fae looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. Then she looked toward her dorm hall. A good number students still hung around in small groups. Her chest clenched. There were probably some angry football players among the stragglers. “Um, yeah. I’d appreciate it.”
