I grabbed the two that still had the original labels, the ones with my handwriting on them, and left the rest. If I got caught, I could say, it was my research, and the handwriting was the proof. Professor Shaw wouldn’t buy that, but others might, especially since most research tapes campus-wide were now digitally copied and filed away on hard drives and in the cloud.
With the tapes in my pocket, I flipped through the papers in the box. There weren’t many, but one caught my eye becauseit was older, the ink faded, and it was handwritten but not Professor Shaw’s handwriting.
Alphonse,
I know you’re hurt, but I have met my true mate, and he’s human. Be happy for me. We’re hoping to adopt a little boy.
It went on with niceties, and then nothing. The bottom piece of the paper had been torn away, the name faded thanks to what looked like a spill… or was it tears. At first glance, I thought it said Charlie again.
No wonder Professor Shaw could be so cold. Someone he wanted as a mate had left him for a human. And beyond that, they wanted a little boy… a family.
I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the letter. It was one thing to take the tapes, they were sort of mine. I couldn’t take the letter, not when it was that personal and also a surefire way to get caught. I took a few minutes to make sure everything was exactly the way it was and put my ear to the door.
Rawling was pacing outside. Now that my recon was complete, the guilt of calling him to be my lookout hit. Dragging him into this was a grade-A dick move. With the coast clear, I stepped out and locked the door behind me.
“Did you find anything?” he asked.
I nudged him as Coach hurtled along the corridor.
She stared at us and asked us what we were doing. “You both look guilty.”
I gulped. Did she think we’d been in the professor’s office or was she implying that Rawling was going behind Phelan’s back?
“Just hoping to discuss an assignment with the professor, but he isn’t in.”
She frowned. “It’s evening, and we’ve been at a staff dinner.”
I fake laughed. “Of course, silly me. Night, Coach.”
There was no time to mention the letter and what it contained because I didn’t know what any of it meant. Rawlingand I parted ways, and I walked back to my room with far more questions than I had when I left. I was intrigued with what had happened to the professor when he was younger and how that had shaped him, though it was none of my business.
And none of what was in my head had to do with hunters.
TWENTY-SEVEN
RAWLING
This was going to get me into trouble with Phelan, but he and Atticus had taken their fur and gone hunting in the woods. It’d been a while since they’d done anything together, and while Atticus was far from my favorite person, my mate needed to spend time with people other than me and Eira.
Scottie had finished work and gone home, and I was with my daughter heading to the area behind the buildings where Holden parked his car. I’d met him there when we were dating. And, as well as meeting my ex, I had Eira with me.
There was a lot of dust in the air because the new sports center was still being constructed, and I skirted piles of garbage and cement trucks.
Maybe I was using my daughter as a security blanket. If she filled her diaper. I’d use that as an excuse to run off if Holden gave me disturbing news. It was bad enough being the lookout when he was breaking and entering, but I assumed he’d found something and that was what he wanted to discuss.
Holden was in his car and that made sense if he wanted privacy and to get away from the construction noise, but me getting into the front seat was a little odd. If anyone saw us from a distance, they’d think we were mated and had a child.
Eira was wide awake and making baby noises as I got in the car.
“Can we make this quick? I need to get back and put her to bed.”
Holden scrolled through his phone and showed me the pic of the box with the word “Charlie” written on it. I blinked and stared at it. While it wasn’t surprising that the professor had something of Rawlins’s, it was strange seeing his handwriting.
“That isn’t the box I handed him. You were there, remember?”
I vaguely recalled him coming in with the tapes in a box, but I couldn’t swear it was the same one. Who remembered a box that looked like thousands of others? What I did recall was my embarrassment and how it’d been all kinds of awkward.
“It isn’t the same one because mine had a scratch on the side. I know my own box because it sat on my desk for months.”
