The Professor

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Orson,” Flynn greeted her brother cordially. Wes tipped his head to the side, watching from his place on the floor as a tall, suave man with black hair shed his winter coat and draped it over the open trunk. “How did you find us?”

  “Lauren disclosed to me that you have appeared troubled as of late,” said Orson, taking his sister by the shoulders. “But the real question is this: why did you not come to me as soon as you realized you were in a tight spot? Sending Donovan in to kidnap a police officer—these things should be discussed by all of the council members before—”

  “Donovan conducted that raid on his own,” corrected Flynn as she dipped out of her brother’s grasp. “I merely took advantage of the situation. Besides, Donovan’s irrational behavior is no longer a concern of ours.”

  “I see.” Orson nodded then gestured at the trunk. “And this?”

  “A farce,” spat Flynn. “A red herring left by that bitch Natasha, no doubt. God only knows where the real footage is. And this one is useless.” She gestured to where Wes sat doubled over, positively lost, on the floor. “His head is as empty as Anthony Costello’s heart once was. No wonder the girl admires him so.”

  “If the boy has no further information, there’s no point in keeping him,” agreed Orson. He strolled over to Wes, using his boot to flip him over to one side. Groggily, Wes stared up at him. It was the first time he had seen the leader of the Black Raptor Society in person. Orson looked benign enough. His eyes seemed to be made of a softer material than Flynn’s, and there was no animosity in his expression. Nevertheless, his words hit their mark. “I’ll take care of him. There’s no need for you to stress yourself over his disposal, Catherine.”

  “But—”

  “Catherine,” said Orson gently, returning to his sister’s side. “Why did you not confide in me? If I had known, after all these years, that you were still harboring doubts about the Raptors’ ability to prove your innocence, I would have doubled my efforts to help you. Why did you not tell me about the security footage? About the key?”

  “How did you—”

  “Your niece cares deeply for you,” answered Orson before Flynn could even finish asking her question. “Lauren worries about you. She did some digging and some eavesdropping, I would expect. You know how she is. But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t trust me or the rest of our family to assist you in this project.”

  “Well, Orson, you are the established leader of the Raptors,” said Flynn. His presence seemed to throw her off balance. To Wes, she looked shorter somehow and less sure of herself. “I must admit I doubted your dedication to covering up such questionable acts.”

  “We lead the Raptors as equals, Catherine,” Orson declared, squeezing Flynn’s shoulder. “Your mistakes are all of our mistakes, and we clean up those mistakes together. As one. However, before we do that, you must forgive yourself for actions you committed at such a young age. Anthony Costello did you a great disservice, and it was only natural for you to become emotionally compromised afterward.”

  Flynn stayed quiet, her expression impassive.

  “This society only functions successfully as long as we share everything with one another,” continued Orson. He glanced across the warehouse at Wes, who still lay beneath Brooks’s steady, watchful gaze. “Promise me, Cat. Promise me that you won’t branch out on your own again. We are better and safer together. Whatever you need, we can find. Our first order of business is to locate these missing tapes, is it not?”

  Flynn inclined her head in affirmation. “Or perhaps, our first order of business is to locate Nicole Costello. After all this trouble, I’d like to have her in hand again. Her mother started all of this. It must finish with Nicole.”

  “I must admit Miss Costello has caused the Raptors far too much trouble,” agreed Orson. “We can’t allow her to wander for much longer. I’ll gather the boys and get them working on her location. Do you have anyone you wish to assign to the case?”

  “Brooks.”

  Brooks looked up from Wes at the mention of his name.

  “Brooks, kindly drive the Morrigan back to campus,” Orson instructed, leaving Flynn’s side to approach Wes again. He shook Brooks’s hand. “Then locate Wickes, Hastings, and Buchanan. Meet at the clubhouse. We need Nicole Costello in Raptor custody as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what about the boy?” questioned Flynn as she donned her furry winter coat once more.

  Orson looked down at Wes, his benevolent gaze once again contradicting his intentions. “Leave Officer McAllen to me. I’ll make sure he’s seen to. Brooks, before you go, would you be so kind as to escort the officer to my car?”

  Brooks rolled his eyes but knelt down to take Wes beneath each armpit and heave him off the floor. Wes had no strength to fight him off. Between the lingering head injury and near suffocation, his energy was all but spent. Orson opened the warehouse door and together, Flynn, Orson, Brooks, and Wes emerged into the icy windblown climate outside. Brooks hauled Wes along, approaching Orson’s SUV, identical to the one parked beside it.

  “In the passenger seat, if you don’t mind, Brooks,” called Orson over the rush of the wind. As Brooks maneuvered Wes into place, Orson pulled Flynn into a light hug. She did not wrap her arms around him. “Go home,” said Orson. “I’ll be back soon.”

  With that, Orson released his sister and climbed into the driver’s seat of the black SUV. Wes watched through the passenger window as Flynn and Brooks retreated to their own vehicle, listening as the engines of both cars rumbled to life.

  “Where are you taking me?” asked Wes, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

  “If you want to live, you’ll pretend to be unconscious until we get there,” replied Orson smoothly. He put the SUV in drive, and as they drew level with Flynn’s vehicle, Orson waved. However, when he piloted the car out onto the roadway, he turned in the opposite direction of Waverly University.

  There was no need for Wes to pretend. The vibrations of the dirt road beneath the SUV’s tires lulled Wes into oblivion, and as the darkness swept him into its embrace, Wes tried not to think about how Orson Lockwood would kill him.

  “McAllen, wake up.”

  A hand shook Wes’s shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes. Streetlights illuminated the inside of the SUV as Orson drove through the dark city. Wes glanced over at his chauffeur.

  “What are we doing?” he asked. His voice was hoarse, and he wondered if Flynn had permanently damaged his vocal chords with her attempted murder.

  “You are about to fall to your knees and thank me,” said Orson. He kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, but there was a strange look on his face that Wes could almost mistake for… sympathy?

  “Where are we?”

  “Listen to me, McAllen,” Orson said, ignoring Wes’s question. “I don’t owe you anything. Understood? Do not waste this opportunity. Do not squander what little advantage this jaunt may afford you. Do you understand?”

  “No.”

  Orson sighed but made no comment. Ahead, a vandalized parking garage loomed over the road. Graffiti decorated its outer walls, and the streetlights seemed to illuminate the artwork as if it were meant to be hung in the Louvre instead. Orson steered the SUV into the garage, taking the ramp up to the second floor and then the third. When they rounded a corner, Wes caught sight of a hooded figure leaning against a sleek, expensive sedan, and his pulse quickened. Was this yet another BRS member to torture him? Orson pulled the SUV up next to the sedan and threw the vehicle in park. As soon as the SUV came to a halt, the hooded figure rushed to the passenger-side door, pressing his or her palms to the window. Wes reluctantly glanced through the glass, expecting unfamiliar features, but when he saw the warm, worried eyes and the unmistakable shape of her cheekbones, his heart stopped.

  It was Nicole.

  23

  It had been over an hour since I had aimed a gun at Orson Lockwood’s face in the basement of Floorboard Lit. The Raptors’ l
eader was the last person I had expected to see, and a quick glance at Lauren’s stupefied expression affirmed my assumption that she hadn’t planned on meeting her father there either. Even more astonishing was the route the conversation had taken upon Lockwood’s arrival.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I’d demanded, lowering Wes’s Glock to angle it at Lockwood’s chest. Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath. Whether it was Lauren’s reaction to her father’s appearance or to the fact that I had a gun pointed at him, I couldn’t say.

  Lockwood raised his hands above his head, opening himself up for a clear shot. My hands shook around the gun. I had no idea if I had the capacity to pull the trigger. Lockwood was scum, but taking a life was beyond the stretch of my moral compass.

  “I’m here to help,” he declared in that strong, booming voice of his.

  “Bullshit,” I growled, and the Glock seemed to twitch in my grasp. “How did you figure out that we were here?”

  “Did you think that Lauren picked up her computer-hacking abilities all on her own?” questioned Lockwood. He peered around me to address Lauren. “Hello, daughter of mine. It’s nice to see you haven’t been picked off by your aunt. I trust you’re well?”

  I looked over my shoulder. Lauren gazed open-mouthed at her father as if hardly believing they occupied the same space. She had been the perfect double agent, betraying her father and the other Raptors behind their backs, yet here he stood, his tone as light and as conversational as if we had all been discussing the unseasonably cold weather.

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  He nodded, satisfied. “I admit, when I first discovered that you had betrayed the Raptors, I was severely disappointed in you.”

  “That’s—”

  He held up a hand to hush her. “Let me finish. When you hacked into my personal computer earlier today, you left traces. First of all, I thought I taught you better than that—”

  “You left traces?” I asked Lauren in disbelief. No wonder Lockwood had found us. Evidently, Lauren’s covert IT skills weren’t as advanced as I thought.

  “I didn’t—”

  “I’m glad she did,” Lockwood interrupted once again. “Because if you hadn’t, Lauren, I never would have figured out what Catherine was up to.”

  Silence fell in the basement, and a palpable confusion hung in the air.

  “What are you saying?” I asked, wary of Lockwood’s scheming. “That you had no idea what Flynn was doing? You didn’t know that she took my boyfriend for ransom? That she killed my father?” My voice wavered, and the Glock trembled in my hands.

  “Nicole, please put the gun down,” pleaded Lockwood.

  “I can’t do that until you tell me what you know.”

  Lockwood sighed and sank into the leather sofa near the bottom of the stairs. I followed his movements, keeping my aim locked on him, but my finger drifted off of the trigger. There were deep, dark circles beneath Lockwood’s eyes, and the lines around his mouth and eyes seemed more prominent than before. It was disarming to see him so vulnerable when previously I had only known him to be at the very top of his game. Without the carefully constructed mask of the elite businessman, he bore so much more of a resemblance to his daughter.

  “When I saw that Lauren had been going through my emails, I started questioning myself,” Lockwood began, running his fingers through his dark hair. “You were looking for O’Connor’s body, correct? I can only assume that you found it.”

  I didn’t reply. It was beyond dangerous to give the leader of the Raptors more information that he already assumed.

  “It’s fine,” he went on with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Although I do wish you’d managed to rescue O’Connor’s remains without lighting my building on fire.”

  I gritted my teeth as Lauren snickered under her breath.

  “The thing is,” said Lockwood, “your actions made me realize the absurdity of what I had done. One moment, I’m leading the most successful class of Raptors since my own, and the next, I’m illegally cremating a man whose murder I practically facilitated and boxing up his remains behind a false wall. Christ—” He leaned back, resting his head against the wall behind him, and took long, steadying breaths through his nose as though trying to come to terms with his actions. “There are things you should understand about the Black Raptor Society,” he said, still staring at the ceiling. “From the day the first group of Raptors signed that charter, the society emphasized that it was built on a foundation of brotherhood. It was nepotism and networking at its finest. It was never moral, per se, to further ourselves in that way and to take advantage of our connections, but in reality, it was just good business.”

  As he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, I realized that I had lowered the gun without noticing. I listened with rapt attention to Lockwood’s speech. Lauren had gone quiet as well. Only the light sound of her breathing reached my ears.

  “The Raptors were always about advancing their own reputations,” said Lockwood. “I won’t deny that, but as of late, the society has taken a turn for the worse.”

  I scoffed. “That is a severe understatement on your part, I think.”

  “I don’t disagree,” admitted Lockwood, finally lifting his head to make eye contact with me. “Nevertheless, it is difficult for me to admit. This shift, this negative direction of energy, happened beneath my very nose, and instead of taking action to subdue those putting these radical ideas forth, I allowed them to continue out of the fear that I would be called a coward had I attempted to stop them.”

  “Dad—” said Lauren with a note of remorse in her voice.

  “No, Lauren, it’s true,” he continued, his tone thickening. “And the worst part is that all of this began while we were still in school.”

  “All of what?” I asked.

  Lockwood leveled his gaze at me. “You already know, Nicole. My sister, Catherine Flynn, killed your father. Before that, she murdered one of our own, a young Raptor freshman, during what she liked to consider extensive testing to prove their worth.”

  Hearing the truth about my father’s death from the mouth of the Raptors’ commander in chief had more of an impact on my emotions than I bargained for. My chin trembled, and I bit down on my lower lip to prevent myself from crying.

  “I knew about the freshman,” sighed Lockwood. He rocked forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It wasn’t our first scandal, but it was certainly the most violent. We managed to patch it up, of course. Blamed it on another fraternity’s initiation tactics. When your father died, Catherine’s close friends informed me that it was an accident. I let it go, but in the back of my mind, I think I always knew that she had planned it.”

  “You let it go?” I repeated. I found myself lifting the gun again at his confession. How could anyone simply turn a blind eye on a murderer?

  “I wanted to believe that it was accident,” he insisted. “I’ll admit, I’ve ignored Catherine’s instability for nearly thirty years. I also thought that we’d left all the details of our sibling rivalry in the past. Clearly, I was wrong. When Lauren infiltrated my computer, I noticed that my other accounts had been trifled with. The changes were infinitesimal, which was probably why I hadn’t noticed them before, but it was hard to ignore what those changes meant.”

  “Which was?” I prompted.

  Lockwood leveled his gaze with mine. “Catherine is attempting to frame me for every crime that she has committed in the past several years.”

  Lauren gasped. “What?”

  “Don’t the Raptors all commit crimes together anyway?” I asked in a dry voice.

  “In a manner of speaking,” replied Lockwood matter-of-factly. “But our crimes did not include regular bouts of murder until quite recently.”

  “So because you weren’t murdering anyone, it was all okay.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What are you trying to say?” I demanded. “Because to me, it sounds like you came here to t
ell us that your ass needs saving just as much as mine does.”

  “I am saying that you and I now share a common goal,” said Lockwood.

  “Oh, a common goal—”

  “I know where Weston McAllen is being detained.”

  That shut me right up.

  “Catherine has lost the right to control any aspect of the society’s business,” Lockwood continued. He crossed one knee over the other, and his tone of voice shifted from subtly remorseful to downright diplomatic. “She needs to be ousted, but I can’t take her down all by my lonesome. If you agree to help me, I’ll reunite you with your beloved officer.”

  “What advantage could my help possibly afford you?” I asked, doubtful. It was too easy. After all of the hassle of the past semester, battling against Lockwood and Flynn, making a deal with Lockwood himself felt like the worst idea ever. But if it meant getting Wes back safe…

  “Anthony Costello was one of the most promising students to ever be a member of the Raptors,” said Lockwood. “It’s why it was such a devastating loss when he decided to leave us. From the trouble you’ve caused the Raptors in the last semester, let alone in the last day, I can tell that you were cut from the same cloth. We can restore the Raptors to their former glory. If we succeed, I can ensure your safety, your graduation from Waverly, and your comfort for the rest of your life.”

  “The last time the Raptors promised comfort to me, I ended up kidnapped in your underground clubhouse,” I reminded him.

  “This is different,” he insisted. “This is you and me joining forces to reform the Raptors. No more under-the-table deals. No more murder. We would get back to our roots. I don’t care if we have to expel every current member of the Raptors to do it.”

  “No.”

  “Pardon?”

  “No,” I repeated, more firmly. “If you want me to help you end Flynn’s influence, then I want the Raptors shut down. Completely. No more. Promise to wall up that damn clubhouse, and it’s a deal.”