Eyes Like the Night

by Emma Accola

  My body tensed. “Then whoever had my phone brought it back after I went to bed. That is all kinds of creepy.”

  Micah tipped his head at me when he spoke, becoming gentle. “Harry Spice looked for escorts who resembled you. His preference ran toward petite blondes. I found that when I investigated him.”

  My voice became high and reedy. “He hired someone to impersonate me with Damien?”

  “It worked.”

  The relief of someone believing me and offering an explanation for what had happened that night left me weak. My eyes started tearing up. For the first time in months, I felt some hope of clearing my name. I made a sound that was a little like a laugh and let my body sag against his. Micah put his arm over my shoulders and drew me close. His comfort offered me a balm for an old wound.

  “What are you feeling?” he whispered.

  “About a hundred pounds lighter.”

  Micah gave me a knowing stare. “Damien had been stepping out on Faith long before the video and you knew about it, didn’t you? And you never told Faith. And now you think that if you had, no one could have played you this way.”

  His insight into my truth left me disgruntled. At least five times I had tried to tell her, the words quivering on the tip of my tongue. Every time I had bitten them back, ironically, because I didn’t want to be the one to hurt her. “Yup.”

  “You’re glad she’s done with Damien.”

  “I won’t deny it, but why did I have to pay the freight?”

  “Because setting you up would do the most amount of damage to your family. You were counting on Faith finding out on her own because women always do. An opportunist like Harry Spice decided to use Damien’s cheating to get to you. The video was never about Faith and Damien.”

  My emotions spun like in a stirred pot. “I was the target.”

  Micah gave me a thin smile. “Harry Spice wanted you to be shunned by your family.”

  “I’ve been culled from my herd.”

  “We both have been.” Micah’s handsome face fell into grave lines. “There’s more to come. This is Harry Spice we’re talking about.”

  A wave of fear made me tremble. “I should leave.”

  Micah grabbed my hand. “Don’t go thinking you can call Faith and tell her all this. She won’t accept it and everything will be worse.”

  My stomach knotted. “I know and I won’t.”

  Micah walked me to the door of my townhouse. Before I stepped inside, he gave me a cool kiss on my cheek. Later I sat alone in my living room and stared into the cold, dark fireplace as if the sooty bricks could tell me where Harry Spice was going to strike next. My little voice told me that it would happen soon and to me. I had become the bull’s eye of a target that had all the rings removed, a lone circle waiting to receive the shot.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On Monday Ray Biles tapped on my office door. His campus police officer’s uniform loomed charcoal black in the threshold when I opened the door. He stood even after I greeted him warmly and asked him to sit down. His aviator sunglasses, perched on top of his head, reflected the late afternoon sun from my windows. I felt a tingle of anxiety.

  “What’s on your mind?” I asked.

  “Where have you been since you got out of your one o’clock class this afternoon?”

  “Here grading papers. It’s my office hour. Why?”

  “Can anyone vouch for that?”

  My heart sank to my toes. I knew an official investigation when I was in one. My words came slowly and carefully. “Three different students came by with questions about their papers. The dean’s clerk needed a signature. And I’ve been logged into my computer the whole time answering emails and inputting grades. And I know there are security cameras on the doors of this building. If you can’t take my word, you can check them.”

  “Do you know Loren Hernandez?”

  My mind raced. Loren was a studious young man, earnest and polite. “Yes, he’s in my freshman composition class. Why?”

  “Was he in class today?”

  I pulled out the folder I kept for that class and checked my attendance roll. “Yes, he was. What is this about? Why are you asking about Loren?”

  “Loren Hernandez is lying dead in a parking lot on the north side of campus.”

  The folder fell from my numb fingers and made a gentle hiss as it slid across my desk. I gaped at Ray. “Dead? What happened?”

  “He was hit by a car. Didn’t you hear all the sirens?”

  My head was spinning. “There’s a firehouse up the street. I hear a lot of sirens.”

  Ray’s face hardly flickered. “A couple students who were walking to the softball fields said a small silver or white SUV ran him down.”

  I gaped at Ray, the horror of this starting to sink in. First Lucie Eagan had disappeared, and now Loren Hernandez was dead. Harry Spice had made his move. I knew it in my bones.

  “You drive a small white SUV, don’t you?” Ray asked, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp with watchfulness.

  “There’s at least ten small white SUVs just like it in the staff parking lot,” I shot back too quickly.

  “Take me to yours.”

  After shooting Ray an angry look, I retrieved my purse from the drawer of my desk. With as much dignity as I could muster, I led Ray down the long, shiny hallway past the curious gaze of my colleagues. We went down three flights of stairs and out of the building toward the staff parking lot. This whole semester I’d parked my SUV in the same area and row, one very near the edge of the parking lot. Filled with righteous indignation, I led Ray to where it was parked.

  But my SUV wasn’t there. There were minivans and sedans and other SUVs, but not mine. I looked all around, baffled, my stomach clenching in fear, but it was gone. I pressed the key fob hoping to make the alarm ring, but my SUV didn’t respond. I didn’t need to say anything to Ray. He already knew it wasn’t there. The muscles at the back of my neck clenched in dread. My palms grew cold and clammy.

  “You weren’t in the building the whole afternoon, were you?” he said softly, a gentle inquiry, as if he were asking about whether I wanted fries with my burger.

  I felt like I’d taken a punch to the stomach. Ray could have found my SUV without me by using the parking pass on the windshield. He had brought me here to make a point. “Where is it? Where is my car?”

  Ray didn’t answer, but his eyes burned with a low fire.

  “You’ve recovered it, haven’t you?” I snapped. “Was it the one used to run down Loren Hernandez?”

  Ray ignored the question. “I already know that you weren’t in the building the whole time. I know you left and I know who you saw.”

  “I never left the building even once this afternoon. I was either in my office or in the classrooms. If my SUV was used to run down Loren, it wasn’t me at the wheel.”

  Ray’s face was stony. “Can you explain how your debit card was used in the vending machine in the breezeway next to your building?”

  “It wasn’t used. It’s been in my purse the whole time.” I opened my purse, took out my wallet, and showed him my debit card. “You see. It’s right here.”

  “The fact that you have it now doesn’t prove that you didn’t use it in a vending machine earlier today.”

  “It does if I say I’ve had it in my possession the whole while and didn’t use a vending machine.”

  Ray didn’t even bother to pretend he believed me.

  “Are there cameras in the breezeway above the vending machines?” I asked, fighting to keep a desperate tone out of my voice. “They will prove what I just said.”

  “So would the bank account that’s attached to your debit card.”

  The statement was a question I couldn’t ignore. I got out my cell phone, touched the icon for my banking app, and logged into my account. What if my bank account showed a charge? My stomach tumbled because I knew it would. Ray’s laser-like stare drilled into my face. It was too late to turn back now. I went into my checking accou
nt. A pending charge from the vending machine seemed to cry out at the top of the screen. I closed my eyes and waited for Ray to gloat. Oddly, he did not.

  “I didn’t make that purchase.” My voice was firm as I dropped my phone into my pocket. “Harry Spice did that. He’s a computer hacker and he would know how to add a charge to my checking account.”

  “Now you’re claiming that Harry Spice can hack major banks?”

  “He would have gone through the company that owns the machines.”

  Ray ignored my statement. “There was someone else who used his card in the vending machine next to yours exactly when you did. He will tell us you were there, outside the building.”

  “No, he won’t, unless he’s a liar. I didn’t use the vending machine outside the building.” Suddenly I thought of Harry Spice. “Was it Micah?”

  “I never mentioned Micah.”

  I wrung my hands because I had stepped neatly into a trap. “Where is my SUV?”

  “It’s being processed for evidence. We found it a few blocks from campus.” Ray’s gaze never left my face. “How do you explain the fact that your vehicle and debit card used themselves while you were in your office? That would be a new trick for a debit card, wouldn’t it? And I’ve heard of self-driving cars, but never one that committed a hit-and-run.”

  “For the hundredth time, I didn’t leave the building. The cameras will tell you that. I didn’t run anyone over with my car or use my debit card.” My stomach quivered, making it hard to breathe. “Are you sure Loren is dead? Maybe he was knocked unconscious. People make those mistakes all the time.”

  “He was dead when the paramedics arrived.” Ray’s voice softened with menace. “You haven’t heard from Lucie Eagan, have you? Her mother calls every day. She says you dropped Lucie from your class due to nonattendance, as if you knew she’d never be back.”

  “I’m not cruel. I was following Bailey College’s attendance policy.”

  “Tell me about Loren Hernandez.”

  “He was a good student. I didn’t have any reason to hunt him down and run him over.” I could picture Loren’s face. “He was sensitive, thoughtful. He got along well with everyone in the class.”

  “And yet he’s lying dead and Lucie Eagan has vanished. That’s two of your students in one semester. Could it be a coincidence?”

  “It’s not,” I snapped. “This has something to do with Harry Spice. That’s the connection. That’s the only connection. I have been saying that all along.”

  Ray crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, for the hundredth time. He’s the man your testimony sent to prison. Last week you made a statement to me that he used Lucie Eagan’s account to send you a threat. In both cases no one can vouch for what you claim to have seen. Now you’re alleging he hacked your bank account.”

  “I know he’s behind all of this,” I cried.

  Ray’s face reddened with anger. “As we speak, a chaplain is telling the parents of Loren Hernandez that he’s dead, crushed to death by the wheels of your car.” He pointed to the light poles that dotted the parking lot. “Do you see those surveillance cameras? If you’re lying to me, I will know.”

  “Those cameras will back up my story.” But I knew they wouldn’t because either Harry Spice had hacked them or gotten someone to impersonate me.

  “A detective will be contacting you.”

  “I’m sure of it.” My heart felt as if it was turning somersaults. “And who was the person who allegedly used the vending machine next to mine today?”

  Ray gave me a cold, thin-lipped smile. “Micah Ekstrand. Just as you said.”

  With that I knew what the next of my twenty questions would be.

  *

  Since my SUV had been impounded, I used a ride-sharing app for a lift home from the police station. The interrogation had been grueling. The detectives kept asking me to help them out. Of course your vehicle has a keyless entry, they kept saying, but how did it start and drive off by itself? That would be bizarre behavior for an SUV. So was murder. And why did my debit card go to a vending machine on its own? Was it thirsty? We have security footage showing that you left the building right before Loren Hernandez was run down; they said that in many different ways. I lost count after five, but I didn’t bite. I knew that police are allowed to lie during questioning and that they couldn’t possibly have authentic video showing me outside the building during the time my car had been stolen. But would that matter? A faked video of Damien and me having sex looked real enough to estrange me from my entire family. How clear an image had the cameras captured? Parking lot cameras didn’t always catch a lot of detail and Harry Spice had a blond woman who looked like me.

  Those thoughts plagued me when I was in a small room being grilled by the police. Still, something was keeping them from arresting me, though I couldn’t figure out what it was. My knees were still shaking when I reached home. I went straight to Micah’s door and knocked. He answered within a few moments.

  “I have my second question,” I said.

  Micah stood aside and let me pass. “Oh, hello, Micah. Nice seeing you again. May I come in?”

  I ignored all this mockery. “Who was Caleb to Loren Hernandez?”

  Once the door closed, Micah gathered me in his arms. “I heard about what happened, and I don’t know.”

  Leaning into him, I drew strength from his warm, lean body. At that moment it was tempting to drop all my defenses and let someone else be brave and strong for me, as I knew Micah would be, but I rallied. This was my problem and I had to be relentless and logical for my own sake.

  “You knew of Loren Hernandez before today, didn’t you?”

  Micah led me into his living room. “Yes, but only because he was on your roster.”

  “Do you have a vending machine charge on your bank statement?”

  “I do.”

  “So now everyone thinks you’re a liar too.” I went to the fireplace and drummed my fingers on the mantel. “Was Loren Hernandez killed because he was my student or because of his connection to Caleb?”

  “I don’t know, but I found something interesting today.” Micah’s face darkened. “As a dean I have access to all faculty rosters, even archived ones. I did a little checking, and neither Lucie Eagan nor Loren Hernandez had ever enrolled themselves in your class. That wasn’t immediately obvious because when a class is reassigned to a new professor, an entirely new roster is created using the original section number. The students’ names are then transferred over. But I dug down and found that neither Lucie Eagan nor Loren Hernandez were on the original roster, Gary’s roster. Somehow, when a new roster was created with your name, they were added to your class.”

  “Are you saying they were added to my class without their knowledge?”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m saying. Obviously they thought they were lucky to be put in a Tuesday-Thursday class at nine o’clock in the morning. Both had originally been enrolled in late afternoon sections, so of course neither complained when they suddenly found themselves in your class. It removed a big empty block of time in the middle of their day. They must have thought that fortune had smiled upon them. And this happened about a week before classes started. They even received an email advising them of the change.”

  I shivered. “Were they the only ones that happened to?”

  “No. There’s a third student named Mariah Park. Do you know her?”

  I nodded as her face filled my mind. “Yes, she’s a tall brunette who spends a fair amount of class time on her phone texting. She’s one of my least motivated students, so yes, she’s drawn my attention.” I bit my lip for a second. “Has she any connection to Caleb?”

  “None that I could find so far.”

  I watched Micah’s face carefully. “You have a suspicion about Loren, don’t you?”

  Micah kept his eyes averted. “Not yet. If there is a connection, I haven’t found it.”

  A low fire burned in the hearth, and its warmth wrapped around my bare legs a
s I stood by the mantel. “How long can the police keep my car?”

  “A long time. It was used to carry out a crime. If you can prove that it was stolen, then you might be able to talk them into releasing it. You’ll probably end up going to court.”

  “Court? That’s just great. Any more good news?”

  Micah nodded. “Ray’s married to one of the clerks in my building, so no doubt he’s heard the gossip about us. By the way, the security camera above the vending machines hasn’t been working right in months. It only shows a blurry image of the machines you and I allegedly used.”

  “So it can’t show either guilt or innocence.” I fought the urge to wring my hands. “What about you? Can you prove you didn’t leave your office and go to the vending machines?”

  “As it happens, I can’t. Because of firing all the student help, there was no one at the counter when the hit-and-run took place. Ordinarily there would have been at least one student clerk there to see me.” Micah shrugged. “And my key card shows that it was used to enter my building through the service door a few minutes after my debit card was swiped in the vending machine. So technology won’t provide me an alibi either and we both look like liars.”

  “Yay. Technology,” I said softly. “I feel like a little fly whose foot is stuck on one strand of the web and I’m flying as hard as I can but I’m not strong enough to break away.”

  “Then my little fly foot is stuck on the strand next to yours.”

  “You’re not the one who’s accused of running down one of her own students,” I said, hating the high note of hysteria that made my voice tremble. “He’s killing people now! Harry Spice is murdering innocent people. We have to stop him.”

  “We will,” Micah said soothingly.

  “You’re just standing there,” I snapped.

  Micah joined me in front of the mantel. He put his hands on my shoulders. “If Harry Spice is behind this, remember that he’s not infallible. He was defeated once before, and he can be defeated again.”

  “Who defeated him?”

  “You did.”

  “Right. He’s back out, in case you haven’t noticed.”