Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder

by Carolyn Arnold

  Sean gestured to a couple available seats in the back row and they excused themselves as they slid in, past a few students, to reach them.

  Their arrival didn’t seem to affect the professor at all. He carried on as if he wasn’t even aware of his tardy, older visitors.

  Sean leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Anything like you remember?”

  A young woman in front of them, turned around and shot a glare at them, brows furrowed.

  “Quiet, darling.” Sara laughed while noticing another female student had her attention on Sean—for a different reason. It caused Sara to smile. He could get so jealous of her, whether he’d admit to that or not was another story, but he had women lined up who were interested in him too.

  As the professor carried on, her mind kept going back to her book. When they got to the hotel tonight, she’d make some time to sit down in quiet. The concept, which had mostly eluded her before, due to a busy schedule, now seemed squashed out by a desire to spend as much time as possible with Sean. They had been inseparable since they were married. In fact, her whole way of life had changed.

  She glanced over at Sean, taking in his dark hair and the set of his jaw, the way he exuded charm just by breathing. She didn’t regret her decision or have a desire to go back in time. She loved him, deeply, but in this moment—blame it on a visit to the past—she missed her identity. If even for an iota of time, she realized her old schedule was obliterated. She didn’t take time each morning to read the obits, and, while she wasn’t the most dedicated writer, she would have at least scribbled down a couple hundred words in the last month and a half.

  Sean turned to her and smiled, sending a pulse of regret through her for even thinking about her life before. It was perfect now, wasn’t it?

  While Sean faced back toward the professor, she kept her eyes on him. Really, the fact she missed certain aspects of her former life didn’t mean she loved him any less. He loved her then, for the person she was. Wasn’t she risking more by changing so much, by conforming to a settled existence in marriage?

  She reached for his hand and held it tight. No, he would understand her need to have time for herself. He would likely even encourage her, as he had before. She was truly blessed.

  Her mind not on the words of Harland at all, she surveyed the room and noticed a familiar student, a few rows down and one section over. She nudged Sean and pointed toward him.

  The guy must have felt their eyes on him because he looked over and smiled at her.

  “Seems to me he’s fallen really hard,” Sean whispered.

  It warranted another glare from the female student in front of them.

  “Sorry.” He offered his apology with a smile that had the girl rolling her eyes.

  It made Sara laugh. She recognized that type of student who was more focused on her studies than the opposite sex—not that she could relate. She had spent a lot of her youth dreaming of the day she’d find the right man and get married. Her thoughts collided with their discussion about a two-door versus a four-door and she realized that vision never included kids. It would soon be time they have that conversation.

  Professor Harland finished up and the students filtered out of the room. The girl who had been sitting in front of them cut another blazing stare in their direction as she went to leave her seat.

  “See the effect I had on her.” Sean laughed.

  “Some women don’t know what they’re missing, and now they’re never allowed to find out.” She touched his thigh and it shot shivers of carnal hunger through him.

  He glanced down at her hand on his leg and lifted his eyes to look at her, wishing they were anywhere but here at this moment.

  “Hello again.”

  The male student Sara had asked directions from earlier was standing there.

  “We meet again.” His eyes were on Sara when he spoke, and, after his words came out, a touch of red hit his cheeks. He adjusted the books in his arms and seemed to grip onto them tighter.

  “Yes, how lovely. I’m Sara and this is Sean.”

  “Justin.”

  There was an awkward few seconds of silence. Justin’s eyes flitted about the room but kept coming back to Sara.

  Sean couldn’t blame the kid, but if he didn’t turn things around, he’d never get a woman like Sara. One had to have self-confidence to begin with, and charm was another element the kid was missing.

  “Do you know most of the students in this class?” Sara asked.

  “Yes, well, their names anyway.”

  The way his eyes shifted away, Sean could fill in the blanks. Justin was an outsider and didn’t really fit in with any clique. It explained the floundering social nature and the hiding behind books. “So, you know Halie Davenport?” he asked.

  “Yes, she’s in a few of my classes. I haven’t seen her around campus in a few days, come to think of it.” There was a glint in Justin’s eyes, disclosing he wondered why they were there.

  “We’re literary agents.” Sean ignored Sara’s stare on his profile.

  Justin managed to point a finger from beneath the pile of books he held. “Looks like you met the wrong end of a mace bottle.”

  “You could say that.” He glimpsed at Sara, back to Justin.

  “One student really didn’t like the terms of our contract, but it is what it is. We don’t have the power to change it,” Sara said, playing along beautifully.

  There was a subtle smile on Justin’s face. “Agents, you said?”

  Sean nodded. “What about you? Are you looking to get published?”

  His eyes enlarged. “I’d love to be,” his excitement waned as somberness washed over his expression, “but I have to finish school first.”

  Sara waved her hand, dismissing his thinking. “Nonsense. You can do both.”

  “Really?” The smile was back in full force. “Well, I’d love for you to see some of my work then. I have a business card somewhere.” He went to place the books on the chair, but they weren’t balancing and threatened to spill to the floor. He ended up handing them to Sean. After seconds of patting his pockets, he came up empty. “Figures. I can’t put my hands on it.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Justin.” Sara crossed her legs toward him. “So, Halie…tell us about her.”

  He took his books back from Sean. “You’re really interested in her, aren’t you?”

  “Honestly? We came here for her.”

  Sean glanced at his wife. Smooth.

  “I should have known.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, she has luck on her side. Always has.”

  Sean studied the kid’s eyes. Did he really have no idea her luck had changed?

  “Why do you think she’s lucky?” Sean asked.

  “She’s the daughter of a politician. Enough said?”

  Sean nodded as if he understood the implication.

  Justin didn’t seem satisfied, and he continued. “He’s a wealthy man, hence, she gets to come to a school like this.”

  “You’re at a school like this.”

  “Yes, but that’s different. It’s not that I really had anything against her.”

  Sean picked up on the past tense but let it go at this juncture. “Do you know of anyone who didn’t like her?”

  “I know of a few, yeah. She was always praised for her work.” He waved a hand in the direction of the lectern. “Professor Harland’s pet student.”

  Sean followed the direction where Justin implied and noticed that Harland had left the classroom. “Sara?” He almost said darling, as he butted his head forward.

  Receipt of the message dawned in her eyes, but she carried on with Justin anyhow. “That wouldn’t have made her very popular with the other students.”

  “One would think that, but then, you know who her father is.”

  “So that swayed people’s affection for her?”

  “It bought their votes.” Justin laughed at his joke, while Sean and Sara smiled. “It probably would have
made her the winner in the writing contest that is going on right now too.”

  “What contest?”

  “The entrants need to be approved of by Professor Harland, and then they are passed on. It’s something he handles through a publishing house he runs.”

  Sean turned to Sara. “Busy man. A professor and a publisher.”

  “Yes, I’d say.”

  “So, did Halie enter this contest?”

  “I’m not sure. We weren’t what you’d call close.”

  “All right, Justin, while it’s been nice talking to you, we really must get going.” Sean got up and Sara followed his lead.

  “You don’t think anything bad happened to her, do you?” Justin asked.

  A response almost slipped from Sean’s mouth. The kid was good. Instead, Justin left without an answer, and, with him out of earshot, Sean turned to Sara. “He knows we’re not literary agents.”

  “Is that all he knows?”

  Blast To The Past

  ROAMING THE HALLS OF A university lay outside of Sean’s comfort zone. He didn’t like school the first time around and had done the bare minimum to make it through local college, while loathing every moment behind a desk with his nose buried in a book. He admired Sara for having graced a university with her presence and, from the sound of it, excelling under the pressure.

  His mind skipped from his own discomfort to Justin. While the kid seemed to blend in academically, he didn’t appear to relate to the average student. Sean remembered what had struck him from their conversation with him. “When we were talking about Halie, Justin said that he didn’t have anything against her, but he used the past tense had anything against her.”

  Sara stopped walking, the clicking of her heels ceasing and bringing silence to the hall. “I noticed the same thing, but do you think he’s involved with her disappearance?”

  “I’m really not sure. It’s too soon yet.”

  Sara nodded and resumed walking. “Hopefully more things come to light soon, because it almost seems to me like Miss Responsible needed to break away for a bit.”

  “You think she left on her own?”

  “Well, it is a possibility.”

  “Here it is, darling.” Sean stopped in front of the door with the lettering Professor Harland on the glass.

  Sara knocked.

  “Come in,” the professor bellowed.

  “Here goes.” She reached for the handle and appeared as if she was going to be ill. It was the first sign she gave of feeling uneasiness.

  The white-haired, sixty-something professor sat behind a standard wooden desk. For the funding the school received it should have been made of fine mahogany. His head angled at the sight of them, his pen poised over paper. “What can I do for you? I’m assuming parents of one of my failing students?” He gestured toward the chair across from him.

  There was only one.

  “You take it, darling,” Sean said. After she sat, he responded. “We’re not parents, but we’re here about Halie Davenport.”

  “Halie?” His thick eyebrows narrowed downward as he looked at each of them. “You’re not her parents though?”

  “We’re here on behalf of her parents.”

  “Ah, this has something to do with politics then? Waste of your breath with me.” The professor resumed scribbling on the paper in front of him, giving them a good view of his balding crown.

  “Please, Professor. We’re not here with any agenda except to ask a few questions.”

  Sara’s soft tone must have worked because Harland looked up.

  “Questions about what exactly?”

  “How is she doing in class these days?”

  Sean listened as Sara took over the reins of the conversation, her questions getting to the heart of what they needed to find out, without disclosing they feared the girl was missing, or worse, dead somewhere.

  Harland dropped his pen to his desk and clasped his hands. He let out a sigh. “How sad when one’s own parents can’t come by to ask these questions. I understand the mayor lives seven hours away, but even a phone call would suffice for the purpose of such an inquiry.”

  “If you would kindly answer our questions. We went into your last class, one to which Halie is enrolled, but she wasn’t there. Is it normal for her skip class?”

  “Please elaborate on who you two are.”

  “Excuse us for that. I’m Sara McKinley and this is Sean, my husband.” Sara rose from her chair to shake the professor’s hand.

  “All right, now I have your names, but it still doesn’t really make a difference. Why did Mr. Davenport send you?”

  Sean unclipped his cell and extended it to the man. “Please, if it would put your mind at ease to clear this conversation with him, by all means, I can put you through.”

  His eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, hesitancy lacing his retinas. Eventually he sat back, cleared his throat. “That’s fine. Let’s not bother him. She’s a terrific student, one of my best, and she would never miss a class unless it was for a very good reason.”

  “When did you last see her? Has she been in class this week?”

  “Come to think of it, no. She must be sick. There’s a lot going around.”

  “So, she’s missed class for illness before?”

  “No. Yes. I’m not exactly sure. Did you check in on her dorm room, speak with her roommate?”

  “We’re here talking to you right now about her standing in your class. We can catch up with her later,” Sean interjected a subtle twist of the truth. “Besides if she found out we were sent by her father, she wouldn’t be too happy.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are right. So now you’ve come and asked your question, if that will be all.” He picked up the pen again.

  “Actually, we do have more questions for you.”

  To Sean, his eyes read oh goody, but it didn’t stop him from raising another inquiry. “What are her friends like?”

  “Her friends are average students. Their minds are nothing like hers.”

  “Can we have their names?”

  Harland rolled his eyes but then proceeded with writing on a sheet of paper. He extended it to Sean.

  There were three names on the list.

  “She wasn’t the most social butterfly was she?”

  “Like I alluded to before, if you were listening, she’s a brilliant student.”

  Sean nodded. “No last names?”

  “Also, not necessary. All of these students were in my last class, except for Janie, her roommate. Not to mention, if her parents sent you, you should know who her friends are already. If that will be all,” Harland stated dryly.

  Sara crossed her legs, drawing the professor’s eyes to her. “Actually, one more question, Professor.”

  “Why not.”

  “We understand you also own a publishing company and are running a contest, which you extend to students. Was Halie entering this?”

  “I’m not sure what this has to do with a concerned parent inquiring after his daughter.”

  “It’s just a question.” Sara smiled.

  Harland didn’t return it. “I believe she was going to.”

  “What do you mean by that? Did something stop her from entering?”

  There was a knock and Harland pulled his eyes from contact with Sara, past her, to the door. It opened and a female student was there with a laptop bag strapped over her shoulder.

  “Kristen, what is it?”

  Sean picked up on the brash nature in the professor’s voice, and the unsettled eyes of the student. When her eyes met Sean’s, she smiled.

  “I just have a question about something in today’s class, if it isn’t any trouble,” she said to the professor.

  “Well, as you can see, I have company at this—”

  Sara stood and took Sean’s hand. “We’re finished. Thank you for your time, Professor.”

  To The Top

  WHO TEACHERS VIEWED AS THEIR students’ friends could differ greatly from
the truth, but they had three names from Professor Harland. One name wasn’t a surprise, Halie’s roommate, Janie, while one certainly was, and the third they still had to meet.

  Sara and Sean were outside in the courtyard. The sun was warm today, and the fulfillment of spring, strong. The melody of chirping birds confirmed it wasn’t just a hopeful dream.

  “He wrote down Justin as being her friend? Why didn’t he tell us that? He acted as if he didn’t really know her,” Sara said.

  “He did seem fascinated by her father.”

  “We’re going to have to talk more to that kid. But how are we supposed to do that now? He’s under the impression we’re literary agents. Guess we could always play that up.”

  She shook her head. “Remember we didn’t think he really bought that line. Let’s start with the third person on the list. Her name is Monica.”

  “All good and dandy, but how do you propose we do that? We don’t have access to the registry and we don’t have a last name.”

  “The dean.” Speaking her plan out loud tossed her stomach.

  “We need to keep this as low profile as possible.”

  “Yes, I know, Sean, but we also have a girl to save.”

  “You believe she’s alive.”

  “I have to, darling.”

  He caressed her arm. “Another reason I love you.”

  “If we give in to thinking she’s already lost, what would we be in a hurry to save?”

  “All right, I’ll let you lead the way, but why don’t we just go back and talk to the lovely professor?”

  “You saw the guy. He shut down. You know it. I know it. But I’ve got this.” Her words communicated a resolute confidence, but her insides fluttered like the flapping wings of a hummingbird.

  “We appreciate you seeing us, Dean Fleming.” Sara slipped into a green chair across from his desk. Unlike the professor’s office, the dean’s spoke of money, with ornate touches of dark wood, a deep desk, and built-in bookcases.

  “Please, Arthur is fine.”