TAKING OUT THE DEAN
It was fairly late when Dean Fehr unlocked the front door of his condo. He had been swamped at the office. A thousand times, he had asked himself why he took the position he now occupied. Life had been so much simpler when he was still teaching. Running an entire department wasn't easy. Nick Fehr had been at the university a little under ten years. He had been hired in the Criminal Justice Department fresh from college. He had taught on a tenure track for about seven years when the dean had had a heart attack right at his desk. Without being asked, Fehr simply stepped up to the helm of the position and basically took over. The university president had been so impressed with him and his take-charge attitude, that they hadn't bothered searching for a replacement. Instead, they offered him the position and he took it. Days like today made him wish he'd told the president where to stick the job. Not only had he had to deal with five new instructors, but he had also had the displeasure of dealing with that…idiot again. When Fehr fired him, he didn't think he'd ever have to face the man again. How wrong he was. It seemed as if he came to the office every other day and begged to be reinstated. The fellow was more than aware that his replacement had been hired. It should have been the end of it, but it wasn't. Some people just couldn't take a blatant hint, now could they? Sighing, he pushed open the door and entered his living room.
Fehr didn't bother turning on a light. This day had worn him out to an extent where he had no energy to even reach out and flick a switch. He kicked off his expensive leather shoes and moved toward the kitchen. He thought he had a bottle of wine in the fridge somewhere and he intended to hit it heavily. As he stood pouring his wine, he reasoned that most of the new instructors weren't half bad, but one of them kind of annoyed him. What was her name again? Wasn't it Donovan? Damn, but could that woman talk. He supposed it was a good characteristic to possess as a professor, but when that woman got going…damn. She had potential though, definite potential, as did the rest of the group. If he hadn't had to face that…idiot, his day would have gone much more smoothly. Ah, but that thought had entered his mind once already, hadn't it? He carried his glass of wine over to the living room sofa and he sank into the overstuffed cushions. Thankfully enough, his remote control rested beside him. He wasn't altogether sure if he had enough energy to lean forward for it. He grabbed it and flicked the power button. He was then enveloped by soft strains of classical music. It was the only thing that had the power to relax him after a particularly grueling day. He took two or three sips of wine from the glass before setting it aside. He was becoming drowsier by the second. A short nap won't hurt. Just a short nap and then I'll call Mel, he thought as he drifted further and further into the fog, dreaming of his girlfriend. As it turned out, he would remember nothing after he closed his eyes for the last time.
* * *
Carol Dover had started the semester as a sophomore. She had been working very hard despite a few personal setbacks. Although unaware, Dean Nick Fehr lived in the same building as she. Of course, she was in a different department at school, but everyone had seen Fehr at least once. However, she was unaware just the same. She plodded toward the front lobby of the building. Sighing heavily as much as Dean Fehr before her, she entered the building and began digging out her keys. Her condo was on the second floor and she would be more than happy to get to it. She had a long night of studying ahead of her. She secured her book bag over her shoulder and began climbing upstairs. As she progressed up the first flight, a man passed her going down. He looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. She wouldn't have noticed him at all if he hadn't bumped right into her without saying anything. Excuse you, she thought disgustedly. She made it about halfway up the second flight when she noticed a wet feeling against the side of her arm. What is this? She stopped right where she was and glanced at her arm. It was blood. At first, she thought it was her blood, but she had no injuries. Then she remembered the man who passed her. She dropped her book bag and ran back downstairs. If she hurried, she might make it to him.
Carol flew down the stairs and ran toward the lobby door leading out to the street. She stood with the door propped open and her eyes scanned the crowd. She didn't see the man anywhere. He wouldn't be hard to spot, but she saw nothing, nobody. Sighing again, she closed the door and made her way back upstairs. She had to get the blood off her arm; it was grossing her out and making her a little sick to her stomach. She had no idea what happened to the guy, but it disturbed her all the same. If she had ventured further up the stairs, she would have seen a stray drop of blood here and there. However, her exhaustion ruled her, making her turn a blind eye to it. She struggled with the heavy ass book bag, unlocked her door, and went inside.
* * *
He made his way down the sidewalk. His car was parked perhaps a few blocks down from the building. He wasn't sure what had just happened. Had he been aware? He didn't think he had been. He remembered finding his way up to Dean Fehr's apartment, somehow getting inside [he couldn't remember how he got inside, either], and then he lay in wait. He had grabbed an object of some kind, hadn't he? His mind played back just a bit. He recalled curling his fingers around something solid. What was it? A small log? A piece of kindling? He was having trouble putting it together. He only remembered grabbing the thin log, but hefty log from the box sitting beside the fireplace. He hid out in the back bedroom and patiently waited for Fehr to come home. Had he intended all along to kill him? He didn't think so. He only wanted the asshole to admit he had made a mistake. He just wanted his job back. When he saw that Fehr was relaxing, he made his move. He didn't intend on killing the man. He really, really didn't. Didn't you? He had slipped out of his hiding place and held the heavy stick over Fehr's head menacingly. A part of him wanted Fehr to awaken and demand that he leave. It wasn't to be, of course. Without a thought as to what consequences awaited him, he lifted the kindling log and began swinging it crazily. He couldn't be sure Fehr was even aware of what was happening to him. Did it matter?
He blinked his eyes rapidly to chase away the images of flying blood. It was completely disgusting and horrifying. Obviously, he had premeditated the act, because he had been coherent enough to wear gloves. Jesus. He had planned it. He sat behind the wheel of his car and thought about his deed. How many people had seen him? He remembered passing only one person. He knew her. She had been a student of his last year. Perhaps she would attach no significance to it. He felt a little relieved until he lifted his arm. It was soaked in Fehr's blood. Jesus Christ. Why hadn't he noticed this before? He had bumped right into the female student, hadn't he? What if she noticed the blood? What if she called the police? He didn't want to go to jail for committing a crime that he perceived as a justifiable homicide.
* * *
Carol took a long, hot shower before she cracked open the books. She hated studying for exams. She longed to take a class that would allow her to just write papers and nothing else. She could find nine dozen things she'd rather do than studying for a test. She wrapped her wet body into a thick terry cloth robe and entered her living room. She groaned as her eyes settled on the large pile of books. She approached her couch and curled up on it. She grabbed a book and cracked it open. She had barely gotten comfortable when she heard a soft knock on her door. Shit. What now? At the rate she was going, she would never get any studying done. She dropped her book and stood up. Carol walked over to the door and peeked into the peephole. What the hell was he doing here? She wasn't as scared as she was concerned. After all, she had gotten his blood all over her. Her fatal mistake was opening the door. She never knew what hit her.
* * *
Although utterly and completely exhausted, Loralei couldn't sleep. She was so restless that she had turned off the baby monitor in the bedroom. She could listen for Tristan's cries in her little office. She sat and stared at a blank computer screen. She had opened a blank Word document, but found she couldn't write. She was distracted. She felt a bit unsettled, but didn't know why. After making exhaustive love with her husband, he had left her to retrieve the kids from Angie's. She had spent as much time with the children as she could. It had been a long day without them, but both of them were just as tired as she. Every few minutes, she backed away from the mocking blank document and checked on each child. If she kept it up, they'd both be awake for the rest of the night. Resisting the temptation to sneak into their rooms, she closed the document and opened up a solitaire game. She couldn't sleep, couldn't write, and couldn't check in on the kids. I'm in hell. She smiled a little at the thought. Naw. I've been in hell and this is nothing like it. Tomorrow would be a slow day for her. She only had one class and the rest of the day was hers to catch up on her writing and research. Mord was a publish or perish university and if she didn't start writing, she wouldn't have a job to go to. She scoured her mind for topics. There was plenty to write about, her past gave her a multitude of ideas and experience, but she just wasn't in the mood. She blew a harsh breath through her lips and backed away from the computer. She wasn't in the mood to play solitaire either.
Loralei walked over to the window and propped one knee up on the window seat. The back of the house faced the wooded area that separated their home from the Everett's. If she weren't such a wuss, she'd go outside and take a walk. It was funny, really. She had lived in the sprawling urban jungle for most of her adult life, and had never been afraid to go out. However, since moving out here, she had suddenly become a chicken and wouldn't go out alone at night. Dumb. Stupid. Crazy. Oh well. She continued to stare out into the darkness and noticed that a thousand stars were out twinkling and shining. Absently, she began to gently rap her knuckle against the window. She didn't like feeling this way; it unsettled her, and kept her up at night. When she turned around to go back to her computer, she noticed Donovan standing in the doorway. She was certain he intended to approach her and scare the shit out of her. Yet, she had turned before he had the chance. Her husband could be a juvenile prick every once in a while, but she loved the hell out of him. He was gazing at her steadily. She vaguely wondered how long he'd been standing there. Normally, if he were near her for any long length of time, she could 'feel' him. Then again, tonight, she was distracted.
The ghostly glow illuminating from the computer screen was the only light in the room. It played off her like artificial moonlight and he again found himself thinking that she was utterly beautiful. "It's nearly four," he said. "Have you not slept tonight?"
She shook her head. "No, I haven't. I had a little nap earlier before someone woke me up," she accused lightly. "I'm just a bit of an insomniac tonight…er…this morning. It's not a big deal."
She noticed he had yet to move toward her, and that was unusual. For a moment, she stood and held his steady gaze. Suddenly, a horrible feeling of dread entered her and shook her up a little. It bloomed in the pit of her stomach like a twisted morning glory vine. She felt as if something would go wrong, as if something that she loved would leave her. She didn't like this feeling, didn't like the images it stirred up inside her. She approached him and wrapped her arms around him. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the comforting beat of his heart. A little mystified at her reaction, his arms came up around her.
"Are you okay," he whispered down at her.
"I don't…no…I'm not, Frank," she said, "I don't know why I feel like this. I don't know what's wrong," she said softly. "I just…just don't know."
He drew away from her for a slight moment. There were tears shining in her eyes. What is this? "Hey," he said gently as his thumb wiped away a tear that had managed to fall out of her eye. "Whatever it is, it isn't worth all this." He drew her into his embrace again and she tightened her hold on his body. Her unshed tears began to fall freely. "It's okay," he soothed, "Baby, it's okay."
She tried to listen to him, tried to believe that it was, indeed, okay. Yet, she didn't feel it in her heart. After a very long time, she drew away reluctantly. He was gazing down at her, concern clearly identifiable in his eyes. "I haven't cried this much since before the baby was born. Maybe it's that postpartum depression shit," she said with a sniffed. She swiped the tears out of her eyes. "I'm sorry, I got you all wet."
Loralei turned away from him and walked toward her computer. It was obvious to Donovan that she felt a little embarrassed about crying for no reason, but he didn't understand. She wasn't the type of woman who cried unless it was damn well warranted [or hormone derived]. After a brief moment, he approached her slowly and took her hand. She turned toward him and felt fresh tears forming in her eyes. Perhaps she was so tired that she couldn't sleep. He understood that. It had happened to him more than once. He tugged on her hand, pulling her toward him gently. She moved over to him willingly enough. He kissed her forehead and gazed down at her again.
"Come on," he said. "Let me take you to bed. You have to get some sleep," he said, telling her something she already knew and understood.
Without protesting, she allowed him to lead her out of the room and back into their bedroom. She climbed under the covers, completely certain that she wouldn't find sleep regardless of what she did. He climbed in behind her and wrapped his arms around her. After a moment, she felt him nuzzling her shoulder very gently, delicately. She was still unnerved and restless, but his arms about her body comforted her a little, helped her relax. He placed a soft kiss on her ear and settled in against her as her hand settled on his. By the time the sun rose, she was certain his poor arms would be numb and useless to him, but she didn't want him to release her, and he didn't seem to be in any big hurry to let her go. For that, she was grateful. It was the little things she loved so much about him. The little things she would miss if anything were to ever happen to him. Shit. Where did that thought come from? She drove it out of her mind as she tightened her hold on his hands. After a few minutes, she heard Donovan's breathing even out as he fell asleep. As she suspected, she didn't go back to sleep. She lay with her husband's arms wrapped tightly around her, as if she were afraid to move, afraid to let him go.
When the alarm went off an hour and a half later, Donovan reluctantly opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep with his wife in his arms, but he had awakened in an empty bed. Her side of the bed was cold and barely touched. She apparently had not tried to sleep. He sat up and ran his hand through his sleep-tousled hair. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood up. He shook his head incredulously when he realized that the door to Tristan's room was closed. He remembered when she had done this before with Rachel. He approached the door and creaked it open. As expected, Loralei was seated in the old recliner/rocker they had brought with them from the old place. Tristan was sleeping soundly in his crib, but Loralei had Rachel snuggled up against her. She had probably gone to Rachel first, perhaps awakening her, and then brought her into Tristan's room. From the looks of it, she had just gotten Rachel back to sleep. It wouldn't be long before the baby would awaken. Loralei glanced up at her husband apologetically before placing her finger up against her lips. Rachel loved both her parents enormously, but she was her daddy's girl, and if she saw him, she'd never go back to sleep. He didn't move away from the doorway as Loralei carried Rachel back into her room. After she exited Rachel's room, Loralei started toward their bedroom, but he took hold of her arm before she could walk past him.
"Can you function today? You didn't sleep all night," he said.
She nodded and smiled a little. He wouldn't believe whatever she said. He could see the dark circles under her eyes, could tell that she was completely exhausted. However, she had to put on a big front. "I can," she said. "I'm lucky today. I have just one class. I might lock myself in my office later and catch a couple of winks during lunch. I couldn't sleep and had the urge to be with the kids. Rachel awoke when she heard me moving around."
Donovan kept hold of her arm and moved her away from Tristan's room. "Do you want to talk about this," he asked.
She sighed. "I'd love to, but I don't know what we would be talking about. I'm just out of sorts, Frank, and I don't know why. I'll be okay. I think it's the changes going on. There have been a lot of them lately, and it'll work out in the end."
He nodded. "Okay. I'm here for you when you need me. I'll always be here for you," he said.
Will he? Will he really? What the hell? "I know, baby," she said. "I love you."
She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before drawing away. If she didn't get away from him, she thought she might start bawling again. She didn't want to leave him, didn't want to go to work, but she had no choice. If she could get through today and tomorrow, she would have an entire weekend to get her head straight before the cycle renewed itself.