"Dr. Duncan?"
The unexpected voice almost made her scream. She whipped around, sending her hair flying in a black circle about her head.
"Joey," she exclaimed, trying to breathe and talk simultaneously. "You scared me nearly to death. Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to sneak up on people?"
"I didn't sneak up," he said. "I just wanted to talk with you a minute. I was worried about that paper I turned in before break." Joey Knight shrugged and looked at the toes of his high-top sneakers. "I always try harder in your class. It's important to me that I do well."
Feeling as if she'd overreacted, Eleanor managed a smile. "You really did startle me, but I'm glad you came by. I'm surprised that you aren't home for the holidays. I thought your folks lived pretty close to here." Seeing the hurt expression that passed swiftly across his face, she rushed on. "What can I do for you?"
"How was that paper?" he asked. He was a good six inches taller than her, but stood there like a small boy.
"I have to tell you that I wasn't very impressed. I got the feeling that maybe you wrote it between television programs." She smiled. "You can do better work." She unlocked her office. "Just a minute and let me grab some papers. We can walk to the mezzanine together. I have an appointment with Tina."
She pushed open the door and flipped on the light.
"Oh, no." The soft whisper of words escaped her.
"What is it?" Joey pressed behind her. At the sight he grasped her shoulders, pulling her from the office. "Somebody wrecked the place," he said. "I'll get campus security."
He was halfway down the narrow hallway before Eleanor was able to stop him.
"Wait, Joey," she called. "Hold on a minute."
He turned, disbelief on his young face. "Why? The sooner they get here, the sooner they'll catch whoever did this. They'll have to take fingerprints and all."
She held up both hands. "Hold on. If it's a case of student vandalism, we'll get security. But I want a chance to see what damage has been done, okay?"
"If you go in there tampering with things, it'll destroy evidence." He walked toward her. "You could get hurt, Dr. Duncan." His hand touched her shoulder. "I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine, Joey," she reassured him, moving away from his touch. He was a sincere student, a hardworking one. His concern was slightly unnerving, though. "I'll take care of this, if you'll help me by going to meet Tina. Just tell her that something came up and I won't make it. Tell her we'll meet at the same time tomorrow."
Joey turned and started to rush down the hall again, but she called him back.
"Joey, I have to ask a favor of you."
"Anything," he answered.
"Don't tell anyone about this. No one at all. Not another student or faculty member. Just let me handle it, okay?"
Understanding registered on his face. "Is there something else wrong?"
"A few odd things have happened to me lately," Eleanor answered. "Nothing I can't handle, but I want it managed in a certain way, if you get my meaning."
"Whatever you say, Dr. Duncan. You have my word. I won't tell a soul."
"Thanks, Joey."
She watched him hurry away with a sinking feeling. How long would it be before the whole English department learned of the destruction? She had to make a report, but she wanted a few moments alone to see what damage had been done.
Walking into the office, she shut and locked the door behind herself. Despair mingled with anger as she took in the books that had been tumbled from the shelves. Her desk drawers were upturned and flung about the room. Her desk top had been swept clean of everything; it had all been pushed onto the floor. Even the trash can had been upended.
"Wanton vandalism?" she asked herself. "Or is there method to the madness?" She wouldn't be able to tell until she sorted through her things, and she couldn't do that until a report had been filed with security. She could only probe a little.
The clamor of the telephone almost made her jump. She picked it up automatically. The receiver was at her ear before she realized that her hand was shaking. What if it was Carter's voice?
"Hello." She almost choked on the word.
"Eleanor, are you okay?"
Peter's warm voice seemed to free her emotions. She felt a tide of relief and a desire to see him.
"I'm fine, Peter, but someone destroyed my office at the university. I'm standing in the middle of it now, trying to get up my nerve to call security."
"So you're going to report this incident?"
"I don't have a choice. The university's computer is on the floor, and I'd say the repair bill is going to be high."
"I'm not all that busy this morning. Would you like me to come over and help?" He'd wanted to get into her office, but it sounded as if someone had beaten him to the punch. "Could you hold off calling security until I get a chance to look around?"
Something in his voice made her withdraw. "You shouldn't get involved in this any further, Peter. I thought it would simply stop, but it hasn't."
"Have you found anything important disturbed?" he pressed.
"Yeah, two years' worth of work and a lifetime of accumulated office junk. You're nice to offer to help, but I think I'd better handle this alone." She replaced the receiver, her emotions in complete turmoil. Why was Peter so consistently interested?
She righted her desk chair and sat down, a weary sigh escaping her.
"So, here we are again," she said aloud. "More destruction." She decided to heed Peter's warnings and to check out what was missing before she filed a report.
She bent to the pile of papers at her feet and began the long process of reordering her work. Fifteen minutes later she was sitting on the floor when she heard a knock.
"Litter patrol!" Peter's voice came through the wooden door.
She scrambled up and unlocked the door. She let him in and then relocked it.
"Looks like the same story as your apartment," he commented.
"Yeah, just more papers. I'd like to find the creep who did this." She picked up a sheaf of papers and put them onto her desk. "I'll never get all of this sorted in time for my eleven o'clock meeting with Rhonda."
Peter went to the bookshelves. The destruction appeared to be random. Entire shelves had been swept to the floor, while others were virtually untouched.
Something about Peter's intense interest unnerved Eleanor. She made the call to security with the telephone scrunched against her shoulder as she reordered another stack of papers with her hands.
While she talked, Peter walked the office. He picked up her coffee cup and desk calendar, her clock and an empty pencil container. Under the pile of rubble he noticed a printed flyer. The pitiful picture of a dog on an examining table caught his eye. It was a flyer from an underground animal rights group. His eyes flashed to Eleanor. She was either a very good liar, or she was being framed.
"Is it possible some student had it in for you?" he asked, slipping the paper into the pocket of his coat.
"I don't think so. All teachers have students who dislike them, and I'm no exception. But I don't remember any student who violently disliked me. Not to this extent." She waved her hand around the room.
"I'm not making light of it, but we can't rule out the possibility that it might have been student orchestrated."
"I wish I could believe that." Eleanor dropped the papers onto her desk and attacked another pile. "My students aren't vicious."
"It could be a student with a crush." Peter remembered the photograph of her at the fish market. It had been signed with the words 'my love.' And Wessy had mentioned the possibility of a student infatuation.
"I don't think so," Eleanor argued. She felt her temper begin to rise. "Normal kids don't react to a crush with destructive tendencies."
"No, and normal dogs don't bite. But you have to allow the possibility that it might happen." He was surprised by her adamant denial. She was certainly protective of her students. Maybe that was the link! A student activist group. He rem
embered his college days, the idealism. And Arnold Evans!
"Why are you so certain it's a student?" she asked irritably. She knew he was trying to be calm, to find a reasonable explanation. And she knew she should be grateful to him for coming up with something that was far less scary than the conclusions that had been tumbling around in her mind. "You're right, Peter. It's something we should consider."
"Just keep the thought in mind," he said.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the security team. The officers were clearly aggravated by the sight of Eleanor and himself muddling through the mess. Their questions were cursory and hurried before they began to dust for fingerprints.
"Let's grab some coffee while they do their job," Peter suggested. "There must be a student hangout around here somewhere."
"The Hub," Eleanor agreed. "Good coffee and that never-changing atmosphere of college." She looked at her watch. "I guess I missed my eleven o'clock appointment. It's nearly noon."
"Then I'll buy you lunch," Peter said.
"Will you be available for questions?" one of the officers asked. He gave them a disapproving glance. "It might be better if you stayed around."
"We'll be at The Hub," Eleanor told him.
The walk across campus put them into the weak winter sunlight that brightened the bare campus, but the sun's rays did little to boost Eleanor's mood.
"I could stand some snow," Eleanor commented. "It doesn't seem like it's getting close to Christmas without some of that white stuff to slip and slid in."
"So, you prefer the traditional image of Christmas, white lawns, big fires, wassail. A lot of single people go to the islands during the break."
She shook her head. "No. I've never been one to do that. If I could go anywhere, I'd go back to the Smokies. My dad's asthma forced them to move out to Arizona, so there's no home there now, but I love the mountains more than anything, especially during Christmas."
They entered the student hangout, a tall building with high, Corinthian arches. There was a small gift shop, the coffee shop cum cafeteria, and the student mailboxes.
"Nice place," he said, nodding toward the art display that was one of the features of the building.
"The students do a great job of using the space for their art shows and posters. It's their building, and they also manage the cafeteria. Everything they serve is fattening and delicious. They have the very best malteds in the world, and their hamburgers aren't far from being ideal."
"You've just made my order," Peter said. "Can I get the same for you?"
"Sure. I'll get us a seat."
She found a table in the back where they could talk in some degree of privacy. The cafeteria was relatively quiet, compared to the normal roar when classes were in session, Eleanor reflected.
"Most of the students are home," she reminded him. "During the regular session, this place is loud, wild, chaotic and rather comforting. It's good to know the savage beast still roams free in the youth of today."
"At times," he agreed. "Was there something in your office that anyone would want?"
"I don't have a clue." She thanked the student who brought over their burgers and malts. "It could be a student, as you suggested," she said, but her tone lacked conviction. "It could be the same person that broke into the research lab." Her brown eyes were suddenly worried. "Peter, it could be anyone."
"I want you to make a list. Put down the name of everyone who might wish you harm. Everyone. From petty jealousy to real dislike." With that list he could begin his own private search. Someone on it would undoubtably lead him to Evans.
"I hate this," she said, sipping the shake.
"I see you got a better offer for lunch." Betty Gillette was standing behind a rack of greeting cards near the table. She moved around it, coming to stand in front of them.
"Oh, Betty!" Eleanor flushed crimson. "I completely forgot. My office was vandalized and Peter, Dr. Curry, came over unexpectedly. In all the confusion I forgot about our lunch."
Betty shook her head. "Don't worry about it. If I had an offer from Dr. Curry, I'd have lunch with him rather than you, too." She looked at Peter. "Are you a doctor on staff, or another type of doctor?"
"Veterinarian," he answered, standing and pulling out a chair for her. "Join us."
"Not on your life," Betty said. "Eleanor and I were going to have a gab session. She said something this morning about an exciting weekend, including a visitation from— " The look of panic on Eleanor's face stopped her.
"Including what?" Peter asked. He looked from one woman to the other. Something had passed between them, some unspoken signal to withhold.
"Oh, it was a long list of things, one of them being an exciting, attractive man. I presume that was you."
"Betty, I didn't say that!" Eleanor felt her discomfort level rise sharply. She didn't need Betty's prodding to appreciate Peter's qualities, and she didn't need Peter thinking she gossiped so about him behind his back.
"I'm prone to exaggeration," Betty said.
"What exactly did Eleanor say?" he asked.
"She said she had a chaotic weekend involving a man, a cat, an attack…. That's all I remember."
Eleanor silently sighed. She'd been certain Betty was going to mention the visit from her dead husband, but she had to give the woman credit for sensitivity.
"And now an office vandalization," Betty mused. "What was it this time, a kid with a crush or a kid with an F?"
"Neither, I think," Eleanor said. "Peter made the same comment, but I can't think of any of my students who would do such a thing."
"Face it, Eleanor, you have the only students who stay at school during the Christmas holidays just to get a private appointment. That Joey kid is always bird-dogging you."
"Joey's parents are divorced, Betty. I don't suppose he really has anywhere he wants to go during the holidays."
"Deny that he has a crush on you." Betty looked at Peter. "He's no competition, but he's a nice-looking kid. And he dotes on Eleanor. He'd spend all of his time slaving at her feet, if she only gave him a wink of encouragement. But she doesn't. In fact, she doesn't even see how bad he has it for her."
"Joey finds security in talking with me," Eleanor said. "He's a decent kid with a lot of troubles. There's nothing else to it. And just to set the record straight, he was with me this morning when I found my office in such a mess, and he was as shocked as I was."
"Okay, okay." Betty backed away from the table. "I rest my case, Eleanor. You'll go to your grave defending that kid. And you're probably right. But just remember, all of our little clients aren't decent children from loving homes. Some of them are the same people who grow up to be criminals and weirdos."
"Are you sure you won't join us for lunch?" Peter asked. He felt the tension between the women and wanted a chance to explore it.
"Listen, you guys, I'd love to stay, but I have an appointment. Some guy named Rousel has been bugging me for two days to find time to talk with him."
"Rousel?" Eleanor repeated, looking at Peter.
"Yeah. And I'm going to meet him. I've finally found someone who's interested in talking to me about my work."
"What does he do for a living?" Eleanor asked.
"You know, it seems like he said, but I don't remember. Why? Do you know him?"
"Maybe," Eleanor answered. She hesitated, then added, "He may be with the CIA, if he's the same man."
Betty grew so pale that her freckles stood out like measles, Eleanor noted. "The CIA? Why would he want to talk with me?"
"There was a break-in at a laboratory around here somewhere." Eleanor spoke carefully. She didn't want to frighten her friend needlessly, but did want her to be alert. "A cat was stolen. And before you ask, it may be the cat I have, Familiar. I'm not giving him back." She met Betty's gaze.
"I don't know a damn thing about any cats," Betty said quickly. "That's your business. But why would he want to talk to me?" she asked as her color returned.
"He may ask you
some questions about Eleanor," Peter said.
"Yes, it seems I may be a suspect in a case of something very close to treason."
Chapter Seven
Eleanor bent to the waist and rewrapped the towel around her damp hair. The hot bath had soaked away some of the tension that knotted her shoulders, but it was returning now. She dialed the number for the third time in an hour.
Betty Gillette didn't answer— hadn't answered all afternoon. Eleanor felt a vague sense of unrest. Betty had gone to talk to Alva Rousel and seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.
Picking up the receiver again, Eleanor started to dial, then stopped midway. She depressed the switch and held the receiver to her ear. She'd debated the wisdom of cracking open the wounds of her past, had indeed fought against taking such action. Now it was time. She dialed long-distance information. The vision of her ex-husband in the parking garage had goaded her into formulating a plan.
In the light of afternoon she didn't believe her husband had returned from the dead, but she was going to find out whatever was going on with Carter Wells or his memory— without involving Peter. Carter's friends had always been rough. Far too rough.
"Denver Post Chronicle, please," she responded to the operator's inquiry.
"That number is 555-6968," a recorded voice informed her.
She wrote the number on a pad. Her hand was shaking as she replaced the phone. She tried to block out the next memory, but it filled her mind. A puddle of fluid on the carport floor. It was after Carter's car had gone over the side of the mountain that the police had found the brake fluid leak.
"A tiny nick in the line. The fluid leaking out drop by drop…" She could still hear the officer's voice, so calm, so rational. She shook her hair free of the towel and began to brush it out. With each long stroke she tried to put the past behind her.
Was there a future with Peter? She pulled the bristles through her hair and focused on him. He was someone who cared. There was an undeniable attraction between them. She felt it every time he stepped into the room, each time she thought about him. She responded to him with awakening desire. With his touch he'd rekindled the old fire that smoldered just beneath her skin.
Fear Familiar Bundle Page 8