"Okay, we're on our way. If you have any problems or you just need to talk, call me."
"I will." I pressed the phone to my chest for a moment before replacing it on the cradle. I scooted my glasses back up my face before going back to chewing on my thumbnail.
I really shouldn't have left the house today.
That much was clear to me.
What the professor had done…I just had no words for it. I knew the man was kind of creepy, but I never dreamed he was a cold-blooded killer. How the university could employ someone like that I would—
The university.
I sat down at my computer and started tapping away. I still needed to check those security tapes to make sure my shift hadn't been recorded then see if there was a recording of Michael being shot. I didn't remember any cameras in those areas, but I couldn't depend on them not being there.
Too much was at stake.
An hour later, I wanted to bang my head against my desk. I'd been able to delete the recording of me shifting and make sure there was no way they could call up a copy. They wouldn't even see anything out of the ordinary except the spliced recording I'd made from the time I hid in the planter until now, cutting out the part where I left the building.
I wanted to make sure they caught the two thugs coming into the building and searching the place. I also wanted to make sure there was no recording of me coming back into the building at all. I'd even erased the key card log-in.
Unfortunately, there was no recording of Michael's murder. There was no recording of anything that had happened on the second floor. I wasn't even sure how Mr. Atkins and his friends got into the building. Except for the two men in the lobby, there was no sign of anyone else. It did show Professor Bradley leaving the building. He looked anxious and scared, his eyes darting left and right as he walked out the front doors of the computer science building.
I hoped he was scared.
I hoped he was terrified.
My computer made a specific ding that let me know someone was at my front door. It was Professor Bradley.
Color me surprised.
Ian told me not to leave the bunker, so I wasn't going to leave the bunker. He seemed to know more about these life or death situations than I did. I trusted that he knew what he was talking about.
Besides, Professor Bradley had creeped me out before, and now he scared the crap out of me. I knew what he was capable of. He might not have been the one who pulled the trigger and killed Michael, but he hadn't stopped the man who had.
I reached over and hit the volume button when the professor started saying something. I didn't have to worry about the conversation being recorded. On my system, it was automatic anytime someone knocked on the door.
"I know you're in there, Daniel," the professor said. "You'll come out if you know what's good for you."
He banged a few more times before glaring at the door as if was the one pissing him off. "You don't understand what kind of trouble you're in. You don't want to fuck with these guys. You won't win."
I found it curious that there was no record of me being in the building when Michael had been shot, and yet he was so positive that I was there. It had to be the guy who I'd briefly fought with. That was the only thing I could think of.
"Can I help you with something, sir?" asked a voice from down the sidewalk. A moment later, a young twenty-ish dark-haired woman walked into the camera's view.
Crap.
Melissa Carter, my tenant.
"I'm looking for Mr. Jenkins." The professor went all smiles and kindness. "I'm his professor at the university, and I have a couple of questions concerning a report he turned in to me this evening. It's very important that I get a hold of him. Have you seen him?"
Melissa smiled. "I'm sorry, I haven't, but I don't believe Mr. Jenkins gets out that much. He's probably sleeping or something."
Made sense. It was late at night. Most people were sleeping right now. I should have been sleeping too, except I didn't think I'd ever sleep again without seeing the surprise on Michael's face right before the light faded from his eyes.
I sighed as I took off my glasses, laid them on my desk, then leaned back in my chair. I was starting to get a headache right between my eyes. Ian called them stress headaches, which made sense. I usually only got them when I was under a tremendous amount of stress.
I don't ever remember being under this much stress.
I didn't like it.
