“Here to supervise, of course, since her room is still technically off limits.”
Just like she is.
Shouldbe.
Jesus.
Why the fuck can’tIkeep it together?
Cocaine, of course.
“Was it the yellow tape that tipped you off?” he asks. He should have smiled, chuckled maybe, but his face is still dead serious.
“There weren’t any officers outside, so I assumed you’d already done your thing.”
“Done ourthing?” The cop leans back on his foot like he can stand here all day pretending not to interrogate us.
Haven’s eyes skip between us, but she remains quiet and troubled looking.
I wave my hand. “You know. Dusting for fingerprints. Collecting evidence. Photographs. Hell, it’s your job, you tell me.”
“Oh. Well, lucky for you, Idid my thingyesterday,” the cop says. “Else I’d have to arrest you for obstruction.”
Was that a threat?
Is this fucker seriouslythreateningme?
If he knew the pull I had at this college, he’d?—
—definitelybe wondering what the fuck I was doing alone in a room with one of my students.
“Glad we’re not inconveniencing you.” I sweep my arm toward the door. “Now, if you don’t mind…”
He ignores my universal ‘fuck right off’ gesture, narrowing his brown eyes as he openly studies me. The grim, hardened face beneath his trooper hat is tanned, making it difficult to place his age. The longer he stares, the deeper his crow’s feet become.
I’m guessing he’s in his late thirties. Definitely not old enough to be staring at me like he’s wondering how long to ground me for.
“Hmm,” he muses quietly, then shakes his head. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
I tilt my head, my eyes flashing briefly into slits before I give him a rueful smile. “Were you in my cognitive neuroscience class at Brown?”
“Brown?” Thatcher gives a self-deprecating chuckle that ends with a low whistle. “No, sir.”
My smile turns smug.
Of course not, you fucking imbecile. You can barely hold a pencil.
The cop rolls his lips together, shrugging a little. “I served my time at Cornell.”
I feel the muscles in my face go slack before I can prop them into a warm smile.
Jesus Christ,Cornell?
What the fuck is this guy doing investigating petty college vandalism?
I tell my coke-fueled mind that none of this shit matters, but I know I’m going to spiral about this tonight when I’m supposed to be catching up on sleep.
Teeth gritted, I stick out my hand for him to shake. It takes effort to ease open my jaw so my voice sounds natural.
