Page 14 of Freedom’s Inferno

The front door tinkled as it opened, and the man I was waiting for pushed his way in. I rose, already halfway out of my seat. “Right on time…” My gaze caught the neon clock where it hung over the register. Eight-thirty.

“Right on time for what?” Lana followed my gaze, and her eyes widened. “Is that… Professor Abrams?”

“Sure is,” I said, waiting for our old college professor to be seated before I beckoned for Lana to join me. “Let’s go.”

“How did you know he’d be here?” she whispered, rising to follow me to his table.

“I was his Teacher’s Assistant junior year. He grades exams here every Saturday morning. Sits at the same table, orders the same thing.” I didn’t slow as we reached the booth. “Good morning, Professor!”

I slid into the booth across from him, Lana at my side, and the professor looked up from the menu with mild surprise.

“Charles Sterling,” he said, adjusting his glasses. His gaze flicked to Lana, then back to me. “And Lana Blackwell. Well, this is unexpected.”

“Professor Abrams.” I gave him a nod. “Didn’t mean to intrude, but I thought I’d catch you here.”

“Nonsense, I always have time for two of my former students.” He glanced toward Lana, his brow pinching. “My condolences, Mrs. Blackwell. Richard’s passing was… tragic.”

Lana gave that little smile she’d worn all morning, and murmured something polite.

I could tell it cost her.

The waitress dropped by with fresh coffee and Abrams waved her off, his attention still on us.

That was my opening. I reached into my jacket, fingers closing around the folded paper, and slid it onto the table between us. “I was hoping you could take a look at something. You’ve always been the best when it comes to forensic accounting. Just a puzzle, really.”

I started to unfold it, pushing it toward him, but the professor’s expression hardened. He didn’t even look at it. Just pushed it back across the table with two fingers like it burned.

“No,” he said, the color draining from his face. “Richard came to me about a year ago with a ‘hypothetical’ question not unlike this. Now, I read in the paper that he’s dead, and you’re sitting across from me with this? I told him the same thing I’ll tell you now: I don’t want any part of it.

“Professor––”

He cut me off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you kids got yourselves into, but it’s not for me. Whatever you’re tangled up in, I want no part. That’s the end of it.”

My throat tightened. “This could be life or death,” I pressed, hearing the edge in my own voice.

“I believe you,” Abrams said, his tone softer. “That’s the point. I’m telling you ‘no.’ You won’t like the answers you find, and I won’t be the one to hand them to you. I’m sorry. Good luck.”

He gathered his menu like a shield, his message final. There was nothing else to do but stand.

Lana followed, her eyes flicking between us with something like relief and suspicion mingled together.

We walked back to our own table, embarrassment and disappointment souring my appetite. I buried my scowl in my coffee.

“He said Richard came to see him a year ago.” Lana hissed, spoon clinking against her saucer. “What do you think he wanted to know?”

“I don’t know,” I ground out.

The professor was my only plan. He hadn’t even looked at the paper. The man was an accounting genius, I’d hoped he could spot whatever I was missing, but now I was lost without a compass. I had learned something, though.

Richard came to Abrams looking for guidance.

The coffee didn’t settle right in my stomach, and neither did the revelation that my partner might have been fucking with some shady shit behind my back.

“I have another idea,” Lana said, cutting through the haze. “But, you’re not gonna like it.”

Chapter 6

Lana