With the students gone, the sleepy town settles down for a long winter’s nap. The silence should be calming but after years of living in the city, it sets me on edge. Alone with my thoughts, I glance down at my incoming texts.
Cole: I’m sorry.
For what? Assuming I’d sleep with him? For the kiss? For what happened over ten years ago? Damn him and his monosyllabic communication.
Emotionally spent and hormonal, a few tears mix with snowflakes and slide down my face. My nose runs, I sniff, and search my jacket pockets for a tissue. Instead, my fingers clutch Cole’s handkerchief. His pine-musk scent brings to mind his most recent kiss as well as the August night we made love.
I was still a virgin but not by choice. I wasn’t saving myself. I simply lacked a proper boyfriend and wasn’t about to engage in sex with a stranger. If I could’ve seen into the future, I never would’ve slept with him. No other man has stirred me since. The one guy I’ve ever wanted got away.
Awesome. My head is spinning. First thing, when I get back to the city, I’m calling my therapist.
Staring for the longest time at my phone, I wonder how to reply to his message. For God’s sake, I’m a grown woman and should know how to accept an apology. Desperate, I search online and use the top result.
Me: Don’t be sorry. It was all my fault.
I don’t hear back from him all weekend. Resigned to remaining single for the rest of my life, I consider adopting a dozen cats to keep me company. Mom and Grandma watch TV in the living room while I sit at my computer. We don’t converse and yet somehow, being together, gives comfort.
At Sunday dinner, Gram’s eyes light up. “Has the horrid Abbot boy been picking on you? I can call the principal for you.”
“No. I took care of it.” I share a sad glance at my mom, wishing she’d told me how bad things were getting.
Gram points a bent, arthritic finger. “You be careful with that young man. He’s going into the army at the end of summer.”
“Marines.”
“Simply pie.” She salutes.
“Semper Fi.” I chuckle because otherwise I might cry. Her dementia could go on for years and a sense of humor will be critical to my sanity.
Mom clears the table and when I meet her in the kitchen, she sniffs. “I’ve run out of options. I can’t leave her alone and I need to keep working for the insurance.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hug her tight and give her strength like she has done for me so many times.
She shakes out of my embrace. “Oh, I don’t know, Danni. Some days she is so clear, I think she’s getting better. Then, there’s days like this.”
“We can figure this out. Maybe I can sublet my apartment once I get my application up and running.” First, I have to find Stacy’s killer. Cole and his super-hot kisses will have to wait.
Alone at the motel, I schedule an online meeting of my Superior Sleuths club. After everyone joins, I share the pillowcase, the loose banister, and how Jeff freaked out when he found me snooping around upstairs.
A heavy sigh escapes deep within my chest. “But everything is circumstantial.”
Agatha clears her throat. “I think you should go to the college. And check out Tic Tak.”
“Breath mints?” I’m confused until Spade chuckles.
“I believe she means Tik Tok.”
The old woman snickers, and pulls my leg some more. “Yes dear, and we should research all of the social mediums.”
Envisioning hordes of gypsies with laptops, I laugh at the foolish banter. “Sam, in all seriousness, have you found anything in Jeff’s accounts?”
“So far, all I’ve learned is Professor Kincaid is hot, his tests are unfair, and his bedroom skills areto die for.”
I picture him rolling his eyes at the unfortunate turn of phrase. “Really? I thought sleeping with students would get you fired.”
Sherlock, a lawyer in real life, lights up his box. “It’s a fine line. If he’s no longer their professor, he’s not breaking any laws.”
“Wow. Really? Poor Stacy.” My friend deserved so much better.
