“I’d better get up to campus, Hutch,” Phoebe said. “Call me after you read the notes, okay? I’d love your take on them.”
“I will,” he said. “And Phoebe . . . please be careful?”
After saying good-bye, Phoebe turned quickly and hurried away, hoping Tobias hadn’t spotted her.
She drove to campus next and went directly to the library. She spent the next few hours prepping for class on Monday. As soon as she thought they’d be open, she called the locksmith and arranged for someone to come by her house that day and install better window locks.
As she headed home later to meet the locksmith, she was struck by how electrically charged the campus seemed. People—faculty as well as students—were clustered in knots, talking, their faces pinched in concern. It was clear the news about Trevor had spread all over by now, and people were not only sharing whatever they’d heard but also probably speculating wildly. Passing a cluster of four girls, Phoebe heard one of them suggest that Trevor and Lily had made some kind of suicide pact, but that Lily had taken longer to fulfill her end of the bargain.
Right outside the western gate to the campus, things seemed just as crazy. There were five or six Winnebagos belonging to various news outlets, all with satellite dishes on top. Phoebe imagined that there were more like those positioned at the other gates.
The locksmith was pulling up in his van just as she arrived home. It was the same guy as before. When he was done, he walked her from window to window, showing off the special locks he’d installed.
“It’s tight as a drum in here now,” he said, flicking his lank hair out of his face. After he left, she told herself that unless the Sixes arrived with glass cutters, she was truly safe. And yet her body felt weighed down with worry.
At five o’clock she freshened up, applied makeup, and changed into jeans, a black cashmere sweater with a V neckline, and her tight suede boots. The anxiety she’d felt all day seemed to seep away, replaced by a growing sense of anticipation. She was looking forward to the evening, more than she would have ever expected. Knowing she’d be spending the night at Duncan’s, she stuck her toothbrush and clean underwear in her bag.
She walked to campus this time, assuming they’d take Duncan’s car to his place. After heading through the western gate, she followed the path toward the quad. Some of the excitement she’d noticed all around her this morning appeared to have simmered down. As she passed Curry Hall, the dorm where Lily had lived, she paused momentarily. I have to know what happened to you, Lily, Phoebe thought. She couldn’t abandon her the way she herself had been abandoned so many years before.
Rounding the dorm, Phoebe spotted Craig Ball at the edge of a small parking lot that abutted the building. He was talking intensely to a male student dressed in a green Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt. Was he interviewing a friend of Trevor’s? Phoebe wondered. She would have liked to ask Ball if he’d talked to the cops yet about her situation, but it clearly wasn’t the right moment.
She crossed the quad and swung left onto a path that would take her to the north side of campus. Soon the Grove, the wooded area at the northern end of campus, appeared on her left. Bright orange and yellow leaves still covered the lower branches of the trees, and there was a thick, lush blanket of them on the ground as well. On any other day it might have looked like a storybook forest, but to Phoebe it held no charm today.
Before long she could see the top of the science building peering above a cluster of tall maples. It was just around the next bend. She picked up her speed a little, anxious to arrive. As she walked, the ground lights along the path popped on, momentarily diverting her attention. When she looked up again, she saw two female students emerge from the other side of the bend, one in a black coat, and the other, a redhead, in a fake fur vest over a sweatshirt. It took Phoebe a few seconds to realize that it was Blair and Gwen. Her stomach flipped over as soon as she’d processed the thought.
“Hello, Ms. Hall,” Blair said as she drew closer. She found Phoebe’s eyes in the dusk and boldly held them. Gwen, however, lowered her eyes to the ground.
“Hello, Blair,” Phoebe said, staring straight at the girl. Her unease was quickly morphing to anger.
“It’s getting dark so early these days, isn’t it?” Blair said slyly, slowing down as she passed. A tiny smile formed on her face, making the edges of her full lips curl upward.
You little bitch, Phoebe thought. I won’t let you intimidate me.
“We all need to be careful, then, don’t we?” Phoebe said. “Bad things can happen in the dark.”
The nasty little smile evaporated as Blair passed. She didn’t like two playing at her game.
Was I being warned of another visit? Phoebe wondered, hurrying up the path. Or was Blair simply trying to remind me who was boss? Phoebe turned to look behind her, but the girls were now out of sight.
It wasn’t until she was inside the science building that Phoebe finally let out a breath. Duncan’s office turned out to be on the second floor, in a warren of a half-dozen or so offices that branched out from a single reception area. The receptionist had gone for the day, but after making a guess, Phoebe hung to the right, and two doors down she found Duncan reading what looked like a term paper, his cowboy boot-clad feet propped on the desk.
“Hey there,” he said, looking up at the sound of her footsteps. He swung his feet off the paper-strewn desk and pushed his reading glasses onto the top of his head. He’d paired his jeans with a plain white button-down shirt, open at the neck and rolled at the sleeves, the color setting off his dark brown eyes. Phoebe felt desire surge through her. How the hell did this happen? she wondered. A week ago I was completely irritated when he asked me for dinner, and now I’m nearly weak-kneed at the sight of the man.
“So this is the nerve center of the psych department at Lyle College,” she said, smiling.
Duncan tossed down the paper and rose from the desk. “If you took a look at these papers I’m grading, you’d hardly call it a nerve center. Of course, it takes lots of nerve to turn in crap like this.”
“Are the students just not trying? Or do you think what’s happening on campus is affecting their work?”
“Possibly the latter. Though with some of the guys, I worry it’s just plain over their heads. Here, let me clear a seat for you.”
There it was again—the problem with boys. Duncan came around the desk, scooped up the papers piled on a leather-covered wingback chair, and plopped them on the floor. Then he turned back to Phoebe.
“My, don’t you look lovely today?” he said. He stepped closer and kissed her softly on the mouth.
“Thank you,” she said. She leaned back, looking into his eyes. “Though I’m a bit wigged out at the moment.” She briefly described what happened with the dishwasher and then bumping into the girls on the path.
“Gosh, Phoebe, why didn’t you call me?” he said. “I would have come right over.”
“You were already forced to come to my rescue once this week. How many times can I drag you out of bed?”
“Well, is Ball taking this seriously enough?”
“Yes, I think so. And he’s involving the police now.”
“Would you prefer to bag the tour and just head to dinner then?”
“Oh, no, a tour would be fine.”
“Great. Wait here for just a sec, though, would you? Bruce wanted to ask me something up on four.”
As soon as Duncan departed, Phoebe let her eyes roam the room, trying to see what the space would divulge about him. There were stacks of term papers on the desk and on the counter behind it, shelves full of books, and Post-it notes stuck to the computer screen, typical items in any professor’s office. The only personal objects were a mug that read “Musikfest, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania,” a wall diploma for a doctorate from the University of Michigan, and two small photos on the desk. In one Duncan stood with several students, holding an award; the other featured him and Miles, in hip waders, standing in a stream. Not much to go on. She took a seat and tried to relax.