ANOTHER PROFESSOR DOWN
Both Brad Combs and Yancy Simons were new instructors at Mord. No one knew, but they were also a couple. They had begun dating not long after the new members of the faculty had a brief dinner meeting. Brad wasn't really interested in Yancy. He was barely attracted to her. She was frumpy, dumpy, and kind of looked like a troll. However, her mind was brilliant, and she was the best writer of the lot. Donovan was prettier, of course, but she was also married and not as wonderfully gifted as Yancy. Although Brad would die before he admitted it, but he was seriously lacking in the writing area. He had good intentions and endless ideas flowing through him, but the moment he put his thoughts to paper, they fizzled out. When he was hired with the others, he had actually brought in a paper written by someone else. If the administration ever discovered his secret, he would surely be fired. The dearly departed dean made it no secret that Mord was a research-based university. Academics, not sports, brought in the big bucks. Brad Combs was pretty much fucked, yet not fucked at the same time. He was a fairly good-looking guy and he immediately noticed how Yancy stared longingly at him. Well, he honestly didn't give a good ripe tin shit for her. There were tons of better looking single women floating about and he didn't mind sampling the population. He couldn't quite remember what had started the thing between him and Yancy. How did he find out she was a fabulous writer? Thinking back, he thought it started at the dinner. Hadn't someone [maybe the dean] mentioned that just about everything she had ever written was published in every criminal justice journal in the US and abroad? Suddenly, Yancy became as attractive as Miss America. He had an immediate need to get to know her.
Of course, dumpy, frumpy Yancy had been completely flattered by Brad's attention. She had no idea what a guy as hot as him would want from her. So very trusting, she didn't bother becoming suspicious of his actions. After all, she really didn't expect him to ask her out or anything. When he did, she thought she had died and gone to heaven. Their first date had been at her place. Yancy was a terrific cook and she had ensured that she made his favorite dishes. She wanted to please this handsome co-worker. Dinner progressed slowly and Brad seemed so very interested in her. She never thought she could be any happier. After they ate, Brad began perusing the books on her shelves. She noticed that he had taken a particularly keen interest in her dissertation and the stack of journals she had collected. She knew it was horridly self-centered of her, but she kept every issue of every journal that had published one of her research projects. She watched as Brad picked up a volume and thumbed through the pages until he found her article. Yancy knew she was a great writer, but whenever someone new read her stuff, she became nervous. She wondered if he would hate it, if he'd think badly of her, and on and on. However, his face held amazement and awe. And he was amazed and awed. Oh yes. Yancy wasn't just good; she was damned good. Somehow, some way, he knew he would have to get close enough to her so that she'd fall all over herself to write something for him.
After their first date, Brad kept sniffing around Yancy even more. Brad didn't immediately hit on the writing stuff. He was a bit subtler than that. They would have dinner, Brad would provide her with a thrill or two, and then he would go home until the next date. Eventually, Brad began to feel comfortable enough with her to mention his research project. As he had hoped [and suspected…guys like him always did], Yancy was eager to hear his ideas and more than willing to offer suggestions. Acting as if he were a shy little boy, he presented his notes to her and waited patiently, expectantly. She had no more than gotten it read before she began making suggestions. He appeared stupid and pretended he didn't know what she was talking about. Yancy was an instructor after all, and she had no trouble 'showing' Brad what she was advising him to change. In effect, she wrote word for word what he needed. It was working beautifully according to plan. In fact, his first project was halfway finished. He couldn't wait to read his name in print and Yancy was too damn stupid to see what he was doing to her.
The death of Dean Fehr didn't do much to sway Brad's mission. He was irritated at Yancy. She was all upset and shit. Brad didn't give a fuck. He didn't care for Nick Fehr and made his dislike no secret. He wouldn't admit it, but he was afraid of the dean. If the man ever found him out… He seriously didn't like thinking about that. As soon as his work was published in a journal, he wouldn't have to worry again until next year. Perhaps by then, he would be able to develop his own ideas and not have to deal with Yancy. She was a convenient patsy, nothing more. For an hour, he tried to direct her attention to his work. He was anxious to have this done so he wouldn't have to look at her again. There was a hot little number in one of his classes that he was quite interested in, and he couldn't make his move while 'dating' Yancy Simons. Tonight, all she wanted to do was cry, moan, and groan. She was Fehr's baby and she loved the stupid asshole. For the last time, he tried steering her away from her grief and toward his project. Damn her. Why couldn't she understand that his shit was more important than her feelings? Crap on her. There was only one thing that would bring her out of her slump and the idea horrified him. He wondered if she'd allow him to fuck her? If he could fuck her, perhaps she would feel better. If she felt better, she'd start writing again. It was just his luck that Yancy consented and allowed him to take her to bed.
* * *
He had followed them directly from the library where the woman was obviously doing some work for the man. The couple was Combs and Simons, two of the newest instructors. If he wasn't badly mistaken, Simons had a special place in Fehr's heart because of her writing ability. He wanted her at the school to bring it more prestige. She didn't realize she was better than this pissant school and she would probably stay at Mord until she retired. Then again, would she live long enough to retire? You mustn't premeditate. Premeditation is a baaaad thing. His hand reached out to touch the thin log he had stolen from Fehr's kindling pile. Despite the beating it took, it was still solid and would do for another couple hits. From watching Simons, he had discovered that she had a habit of leaving her front door unlocked, especially when Combs was over. Tonight, he hoped that she hadn't broken that particular habit. He could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.
* * *
Worn out, Brad couldn't keep his eyes open. He hadn't intended on falling asleep in Yancy's bed, but he couldn't prevent it from happening no matter how valiantly he fought. Perhaps once they awoke, Yancy would finish his shit. His eyes closed and he slept, snoring softly, dead to the world. Beside him, Yancy slept just as soundly and hadn't moved a muscle in over twenty minutes. Neither of them heard the front door opening and then closing. As silently as a thief in the night, he stole into the apartment and crept into the bedroom. For a while, he stood at the foot of the bed and gazed upon the sleeping lovers. What an odd pair they made. However, he could see right through Combs. He was an opportunist. How could these people be better than him? He would never understand it, not as long as he lived. He would take out the man first and then go for the woman. She would be easier to subdue. It was time to teach the instructors the fine art of dying gracefully. Three down. Three to go.
* * *
Loralei was having the falling dream again. She realized that almost everyone experienced the same dream from time to time. She supposed that tonight was her night. Her body was falling down down down to the ground, the deep blue sky surrounding her. She thought she was screaming, but she heard no sound leaving her. As soon as her body hit the ground with a solid thud, she awoke breathless and sweaty. Sitting straight up in bed, she had to fight the urge to scream. At first, she thought she was screaming, but she realized it was the enraged squalling of her infant son emitting from the tinny speaker of the baby monitor. Beside her, Donovan mumbled incoherently. She slid out of bed and went to Tristan's room. After a diaper change, she began pacing the floor with him, trying to soothe him back to sleep. As much as Rachel had been, once Tristan was awake, it would take a ton of comforting to lull him back to sleep. Eventually, his blatting cries settled the slightest bit and he allowed her to carry him to the old recliner. She sat down with him and began to rock gently. If she moved too suddenly, his cries would begin again, angrier than ever. Loralei held her son close to her and found her mind wandering. Cody had run the check on Andy Dannon. There were no skeletons lurking in his closet and he was indeed an instructor. Still, her encounter with him bothered her. He was creepy and she hoped she'd never see his face again. A contented little clucking noise drew her attention back to the infant in her arms. He had finally drifted off again. She was tempted to stay with him, but she was getting too damn old to sleep in the recliner. Moving carefully, she carried him back to his crib and laid him down gently. When she was certain he was settled in for a while, she slipped out of his room and went into Rachel's. Tristan's indignant wailing hadn't disturbed her and she slept with her little arms wrapped snuggly around her pillow. She reached out to her daughter and caressed the silky strands of her thick black hair. Loralei wanted to take her into her arms and hold her for a while, but the movements would likely scare her more than offer comfort. After a moment, she turned away and went back toward her own room. She slipped back into bed, thinking that Donovan was still asleep.
"Are they okay," he asked suddenly, turning to his back.
"Yeah. Tristan had diaper issues and I went in to check on Rachel because I was already up. She hasn't moved a muscle nearly all night. Even the baby crying didn't bother her."
"I would think not," he said. "She had an active day. I think Cody wore her out," he said lightly.
"I think so. She loves him almost as much as her Uncle Farron and Aunt Kara."
He smiled a little. "That's because they spoil her senseless. I have a feeling that Tristan is next in line. Right now, as tiny as he is, he's basically still ours. In a few more months, look out."
"Ha," she said. "I can only imagine. Can't wait to see that brother of yours with his first child."
"That should be completely interesting," he said. "Actually, I think it would be kind of…fun. It would definitely give us a chance to spoil someone else's kid."
Loralei was about to make a comment when Donovan's cell phone rang. Surprised, they both turned to glance at the clock. Who would be calling him at this hour? He slid out of bed and walked over to the dresser where he had laid his phone. He picked it up after four rings and answered in his usual brusque fashion. Loralei sat up in bed and watched him curiously. She immediately noticed that he moved to the far side of the room. Throughout the duration of their marriage, she had seen this dozens of times. When he had the desire to protect her from something, he wouldn't allow her to listen in on his conversations. She felt the familiar old irritation eating away at her. She was more than tempted to get out of bed and follow him around the bedroom until he allowed her to eavesdrop. Loralei knew it was none of her business, of course, but it obviously had something to do with her or he wouldn't care to speak in front of her. She immediately connected his secretive behavior with what was going on at Mord. It was a rare occasion when he received calls this early in the morning and when they did come in, it was never anything light. She settled back against the headboard and watched as Donovan paced back and forth, all the while speaking quietly into the phone. She was becoming quite pissed off. Whether he wanted to or not, he would tell her what was going on. If he didn't, he would see no peace for the rest of the night. She would make damn sure of that.
Donovan snapped his phone closed and laid it back on the dresser. As nonchalant as he began the conversation, he ended it, and trotted over to the bed. He slid beneath the covers and turned to his side, his back facing her. Incredulously, she watched him as he settled in and tried to go back to sleep. Was he obtuse enough to believe that she'd let him go so easily? How long had they been together? Oh hell no. For two minutes or longer, she stared at his back. He didn't even bother to look at her. There was no way she'd allow him to go on as if nothing happened.
"Frank? What was that?"
Of course, he hadn't closed his eyes for half a second. He had to admit that he indeed tried to duck his wife. He was stupid to think that she'd let him get away with it. Not Loralei. Not this woman. Damn it, he wanted to protect her, but this was a situation where she'd have to be involved to a tiny degree. However, he wanted to think about it before he could discuss it with her. It was clear that she wouldn't let him sleep [As if I could sleep now] until he talked to her. Sighing, he turned slightly and pulled his body up to a sitting position. Her jaw was set and determined. Good going, asshole. She's really pissed now. "You won't let this go, will you," he asked softly.
She tilted her head to the side, keeping her body drawn into a tense knot. "What do you think, Frank? Have I ever?"
He shook his head. "No, you haven't. I'm sorry, but I did try to duck you." She gave him a 'no shit' look and another sigh left him. "Baby, it was Shoemaker. By dawn, we'll have a priority case in our grasp. It appears that your place of business has become the hunting ground for some sort of revenge oriented serial killer."
Her pissed off stance immediately changed to one of shock. Her mouth fell open and she gazed at him steadily. "What are you saying, Frank?"
"Two of your colleagues were found murdered, Loralei. It was Brad Combs and Yancy Simons. Simons' roommate found them in bed together, beaten too death. They were killed in the same fashion as your dean and the student. One of us will likely end up going UC as an instructor in your department."
"Oh Jesus," she gasped. "I can't…can't believe this. It seems that everything I touch turns to shit, Frank. It does. It truly does. This shit follows me. Can't you see that? Damn it."
"Loralei, what the hell are you saying? This is not your fault and doesn't make any sense. None. In fact, there is a good chance that you're next and that thought terrifies me. Do you understand why I didn't want to tell you this? Do you? I knew you would do this to yourself."
"Jesus," she whispered. "Jesus Christ." She brought her legs up close to her body and buried her face into her hands. "Jesus," she cried, the word muffled in her hands. "What is happening? What the hell is happening?"
Donovan took her wrists and drew her hands away from her face. "Stop it, Loralei. Stop it," he demanded. She wouldn't answer him, wouldn't say a word. She kept shaking her head. He drew her into his embrace and held her close to him. "Baby, you're overreacting," he said gently. "I know this is upsetting you, but you cannot blame yourself." He kissed the top of her head. Mercilessly, she was still haunted by a stinking bitch already two years in her grave. "Loralei, when are you going to forgive yourself for the fucked up mess that was known as Carly Butler? This is where all your guilt and self-blame is coming from, isn't it?" She said nothing, but he knew, he knew it as well as he knew her heart. "You have to let this go, baby. Let it out and rid your mind of it. It's in the past and it's over. We made sure of that, Loralei. We made sure."
She didn't speak, didn't affirm or deny any of his words. Instead, she tightened her hold on his body and clung to him, allowing him, just this once, to shield her from it all. She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
* * *
By the time the alarm sounded off, Donovan noticed that Loralei had already taken off with the children. She left a brief note stating that she wanted to get some work done, but assured him that she wasn't setting foot on campus. She gave no hint of her location, and this thought disturbed as much as irritated him. If he had known her true destination, he would have flipped completely.
After leaving Tristan and Rachel with Angie downtown, she made her way to the public library. It was relatively early, but she knew it would be open. At first, she had no idea what motivated her to go. With everything that was going on, she couldn't even attempt to concentrate on her work. Yet, she remembered that "Andy Dannon" had mentioned he was at the library on most days. Today, she intended to watch for him. It didn't matter that Cody could find nothing on the man; she knew he was involved some way, shape, fashion, or form. She was hell-bent to discover his connection.
As if she were simply following her new routine, she began searching the racks for her books. She carried a pile over to an empty table and cracked open her first volume. She read and surprisingly became engrossed. Perhaps normalcy wasn't a far cry after all. It was after eleven in the morning when she finally looked away from the book to jot down some notes. It was at that time she saw him enter. He had carried in his own stack of books and sat down with them. At first, he purposely ignored her. His behavior set her at ease. Perhaps her suspicions were no more than conjecture. Perhaps she had been wrong altogether. It happened before, and was bound to happen repeatedly. Loralei sighed and went back to her book.
"You're here bright and early," a voice said.
Loralei looked up and saw that Dannon had approached her table. Her first instinct was to react negatively as she had done before, but she beat it back. She cleared her throat and tried to smile. "Yes. Since the university is closed, I thought I could get a jump on my work."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I understand. I heard on the news this morning that two other people had been killed. It's an insane world out there today, isn't it?"
"Definitely," Loralei said, her eyes never leaving his. "Would you join me?"
He smiled a little. "Of course." He pulled out a chair and sat down with his armload of books. He spread them out on the table and she noticed that the subjects of the volumes were similar to hers. "Are you making any progress, Ms. Donovan?"
"A little. Mr. Dannon, I'd like to apologize for what I said to you before. When strangers approach me, I get a little…antsy. I'd definitely like your assistance if the offer is still open."
His smile broadened, but never reached his ice blue eyes. "Oh, it is. It surely is. It would be my extreme pleasure, Ms. Donovan. I'm always willing to help a like-minded individual."