The Devil Makes Three (4 page)

Glancing down at the paper, I scrunched my nose in dislike. It was a survey listing various crimes with four columns of checkboxes under the words ‘victim of’, ‘committed’, ‘convicted’, and ‘acquitted’. Most of the crimes I could leave blank, but a couple of the boxes dared me to admit the truth. Especially the box next to murder. After all, he would know if I lied, wouldn’t he?

#

After class I made a trip to the ATM then walked the familiar path to the sociology department’s offices. I wasn’t sure what to think or do, but I came to the conclusion that I had to act confident and brave, or he would probably eat me alive. That or execute me and stuff my body in a science lab phial. Dropping the class had crossed my mind, especially since Richard graced the roll, but it didn’t seem right. It seemed like running and I wasn’t prepared to do that. It felt like he would simply find me again somehow. It felt like he was stalking me, playing with me like a cat plays with a spider.

I arrived at his office, on the fourth floor at the end of the hall. Walking to the door felt like a death march, but I did it. Taking a deep breath, I raised my fist and gave a sharp knock on the wood. A few moments later the door opened. He blinked when he saw me and stepped back from the door. “Yes?”

I licked my lips. He seemed determined to keep up this charade, as if he didn’t recognize me. Deciding to match his ruse, I flashed twenty seven dollars. “I need to get a packet for 3651.”

“Oh, right. Come in.” He walked around a beat up desk, the type that came standard issue in a soft science, thus underfunded, department. Next to him, on the floor to his right, sat the box of packets, while a stack of books sat on the floor to his left. I couldn’t see his desktop since papers and his laptop spanned the entire space. And more shelves filled with yet more books lined the walls. Apparently he had a hard time organizing.

“Here you go.” He handed me the packet and I forked over the money. “First seven documents.”

“Right.” I stood staring at him for a minute.

“Did you need something else?”

“Have you taught here long?”

“No, this is my first semester. I taught at UNLY previously.”

“UNLY?”

“Yes.”

I stared for a moment more then backed towards the door. “You know, I’m not a really big fan of criminology. It just filled a credit. Maybe this isn’t the class for me.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “I find people usually enjoy the class, even if they aren’t particularly interested in the field. It’s a worthy cause to study. It affects our lives, whether people know it or not. May I ask your major?”

“History.”

He nodded. “Emphasis?”

“Yeah. In whatever classes get me to graduation fastest.”

“I see. Well, I won’t lie. The subject matter is difficult but I think you could pull it off if you just study.”

“What makes you so confident?”

“You’re Gretchen Tanner, right?”

“Amazing that you could deduce that.” I observed, not caring if he took offense. He knew me. He recognized me. He was freaking playing with me and it made me want to scream.

“I check all my students’ records. You’ve made the Dean’s list every semester since you started here and have already completed your senior seminar with an A grade from Dr. Smith. That’s unusual for a sophomore. He’s a tough grader, I hear. In fact, you must have lied so he would let you stay in the class.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“But that’s not why I remembered you. How could I forget that hunted look you had in class? Was my introduction too intimidating? Really I just believe in giving my students fair warning.”

“I didn’t look hunted.”

“Well you didn’t look calm.”

I grimaced. “Just surprised to see you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “To see me? You expected someone else to teach the class?”

“You could say that.” Try anyone else.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you. I hope it’s something you can adjust to. I think you’d be an asset to the class.”

“I’m never an asset to any class. I don’t speak in discussions.”

“Well, then I think the class will at least benefit you in your studies. Crime runs rampant throughout history. But drop the class if you don’t feel comfortable.” He leaned over and typed something on his computer then returned his gaze to me.

I got the sense that he was daring me to drop, as if it would simply affirm his belief in my inferiority.

“I never said I didn’t feel comfortable.”

He paused and cocked his head to the side. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost in this conversation then.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I shook my head. “I’m good. We’re good.” Turning, I left the office at a strut, confused with what to actually do, but refusing to let him know that.

I walked to the bus stop, debating with myself over my options, when my phone rang. Digging it out of my pocket I flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Dear, your father and I wondered if you could pick up some things on your way in. You are coming straight in, aren’t you? You aren’t going out tonight?”

Smacking my forehead, I considered the merits of running away, just buying a car and driving until it died. Of course, if I did that, my cat would starve.

Why couldn’t my life just be normal?

#

My parents left the funeral home a little after nine o’clock, leaving me alone with the smell of Chinese food residue and wood polish. Oddly it had been a slow weekend and no one had gotten buried that day which meant my night was rather sedentary after I inspected the bodies in the cooler for prospective trinkets.

I pulled the Criminology packet of case files out of my backpack and flipped through the first seven as I lounged on the couch. The whole sheaf came arranged in a way promising many hours of tedious reading and short naps.

Laying the booklet down on my chest I gazed up at the ceiling, wondering what to do. The only reason I had taken the class was to fill a credit. No other class that suited me filled the time slot, which meant if I dropped it would put me off schedule for graduation. Not an appealing prospect. I wasn’t sure why, but ever since I had focused on graduating in two years, I had found myself looking to it with an almost greedy hunger. Not that I had any plans for afterwards. I just wanted to get to say I had a degree in something, rather than feel like the disappointing child who screwed up her life.

Maren never would have done that, as my mother fondly pointed out every chance she got. Of course, she hadn’t lived past the age of eight, so what she would and wouldn’t have done was really up for grabs. Whenever my mother made such a statement, I always retorted with the possibility that she could have ended up a high school dropout, coke-head movie actress or even worse, ended up in the service sector flipping burgers or washing cars for the white collar workers of America while some worthless husband forced her to punch out a bunch of kids while he went drinking with his buddies.

My mother never liked this response and always ceased speaking to me for at least a day. What a blessedly silent day it was.

Of course, it was all just bravado. I had no more clue than my mother what my sister would have done if she had lived. Probably Maren would have grown up to become a normal member of society with her problems and quirks, just like everyone else. For that matter, I might have as well. Instead I’d become a subnormal member of society, always hanging on the fringe, wishing I could integrate to the middle.

But normal just wasn’t in my repertoire these days.

“Deep in thought?”

I shot off the couch so fast the booklet went flying to the neighboring chair. Turning to the door, I saw him standing there in all his leathery trench-coated glory. Just as I had seen him that first time, he dressed all in black and looked almost tasty. And he smelled even better. The only difference, of course, was that he had cut his hair. Soft black waves peeked out from the bottom of his black knit cap. Just like Professor and Agent Cade’s hair. His stance emanated contained energy.

“What the hell is this?” I demanded, unsure to whom, exactly, I spoke. Was he the assassin I expected or the FBI agent? For that matter, he could be the professor, for all I knew.

“Shocked to see me, I guess.”

I backed away from him, not certain what to do. I hadn’t set the alarm after letting my father out the gate which meant he hadn’t triggered it upon entering. It also meant no one else would show up for hours. I had no weapon, no phone on my person, and felt confused beyond belief.

“Would you like me to tell you why I’m here?” he asked, stepping out of the doorway and taking a seat in the nearest chair. The action looked relaxed and comfortable, but I knew it hid violent inclinations.

“I’d prefer it if you just left and never came back.”

He smiled sardonically. “If I left, we couldn’t discuss our business.”

“We have no business.”

“Oh, we have plenty of business.” He fished around in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a necklace with an emerald and diamond charm. Setting it on the corner of the desk, he twitched it so the gems caught the gleam of the light fixture.

My heart stopped at the sight of the jewelry. I had sold it two weeks before on eBay to a very generous bidder.

“You’re probably wondering where I got this.” He smiled.

“I couldn’t care less where you got it.”

“Perhaps not. That part’s not nearly as interesting as where you got it to begin with.”

An ice cube slid down my throat and sat in my stomach, freezing my major organs into inactivity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You look so cute bundled up in that trash bag ensemble. I couldn’t help taking pictures of you just the other night.”

“What the hell are you playing at? What do you want from me? I thought when we parted we would never see each other again, then you pop up investigating Martins murder? And then again in class? You’re stalking me, aren’t you?”

He cocked his head to the side and considered me, then smiled. “Come again?”

“Why come here? And do you really expect me to believe you’re a teacher? You’re no educator. You’re barely a freaking human.”

His eyes darkened and he slowly rose from the chair. With slow, measured steps he approached me as I backed away, against the wall. His body, strong and firm, pressed against mine and he whispered in my ear, his warm breath making me shiver. “We’re not going to discuss either of them. And you’re not going to talk to them about me, either. I probably don’t have to tell you it would be unwise to discuss me with anyone, but it would be especially unwise to discuss me with them.”

“Them? What do you mean ‘them’?”

His hand reached up and seized my neck, massaging my throat with his thumb. “Did you listen to what I said just now?”

“All right. Please.” I shook him off and sank back into the corner. His eyes lost their crazed intensity and he settled back down to business. Retaking his seat, he propped his legs up on the coffee table and tilted the chair back on two legs.

“It would seem that you owe me a favor.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” I said.

He smiled once more. “I haven’t told the authorities about you, have I? Grave robbing is quite the appalling crime, you know. Many in the community would look askance at it.”

Like he could talk. Besides housing three people in that one body, he, too, had committed murder. “So what of it? You probably can’t tell on me without getting busted yourself,” I pointed out.

“Oh, I’ve been known to drop anonymous tips to the local boys-in-blue now and again. When it serves my purpose.”

The confidence with which he said it made me certain every word held truth. His maturity level seemed to stop just short of tattling on his fellow criminals and probably hauling them in himself. After all, who wants more competition? Putting on my stoic face to counter his casual demeanor, I pushed off from the wall and stepped back to the arm of the couch. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“I’ve watched you for the last month. You’re an interesting girl. I know you’re not above making a few dollars in unusual ways and I know you’re not squeamish. I admit I misjudged you. Martins’ death probably never wakes you up in the night.”

This was true, only because I did most of my sleeping in the early hours of the day. Since the murder, I had experienced more than my fair share of nightmares, waking with the sight of a bloody and lifeless Martins behind my eyelids. The memory showed up everywhere I went: sitting in class, sleeping in my bed and following me around the funeral home. Once he even sat, tied up in Hawkeye’s favorite chair, his lifeless hand out of the ropes and laying on my cat’s fur.

“What’s your point?” I asked, pushing the image aside. For something to occupy my hands, I began tracing the pattern on the upholstery.

“My point is I have work for you.”

“I don’t want your job.”

“Oh, it’s not my job. I’m one of a kind, Temptress. You couldn’t handle my job. It’s more of a delivery girl-type gig I have in mind.”

“Delivery girl? Thanks, but I already have a job.”

“Not like this.” He shook his head.

“And my chances of walking out of this office alive if I turn you down?” I asked with calm sincerity.

He shrugged and glanced about. “That’s up to you. But I recommend you take the job or the police just might receive some grisly photos in their mail tomorrow.

“That’s blackmail.”

“Such a beautiful word, isn’t it?”

I grimaced and sank back down on the couch. “What would I deliver?”

“It will vary from time to time. Nothing bigger than a small box, if even that. Most the time just envelopes.”

“It’s not drugs is it?”

“No. I don’t deal in drugs.”

“Everything but, I bet.”

He twitched the chain of the necklace on the desk once more and slid it off the surface into his palm. Getting up from the chair, he crossed to me once again and settled on the couch. Warily I watched him, wondering exactly what he had in mind and wondering if I possessed enough of my wits to repel him. My capabilities probably stopped way short of what he aimed for. 

Raising his hand to my neck, he caressed it once more, this time softly, with no threat of violence and only a minimal amount of craziness. Really, I wouldn’t even have suspected him of anything but hotness if I hadn’t known him to be nuts.