Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) Page 9

  I smirked, watching as the rest of the students dropped their tests, some obviously more confident than others. “I’m sure you all did well. It’s been a pleasure teaching you this semester, and I know I’ll be seeing many of you in January for Linguistic Anthropology.” I hadn’t taught the course before, but it was part of the curriculum I was responsible for now. I wouldn’t have to spread myself as thin at Harvard, but this was the price I’d paid for my freedom.

  Cassie was the last one to my desk, and she lingered, watching the door as the other students filed from the class, saying their goodbyes to me. I replied half-heartedly to them, sensing Cassie had something to say.

  When it was just the two of us, I stood and crossed my arms. “What is it, Cassie?”

  “I know the material, but with my class load… I’m having problems with my roommate, and my parents can’t send me money until January.” Her posture was slack, and tears formed in her eyes. I’d heard all kinds of excuses from many types of students over the years. Hell, I’d had to embellish a bit when I was younger in order to get a grade-point bump, but everything about her composure told me she was telling the truth.

  Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, her eyes dark and puffy. “Cassie, if there’s anything going on, you can tell me.”

  I stepped closer, and she glanced up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, but… if there’s a chance you can go easy on me, I’d appreciate it. I’ll work extra hard in Linguistics next term.”

  I nodded slowly, but my words weren’t as reassuring. “I’ll do my best, Cassie, but I can’t treat any of my students preferentially. You understand.”

  A fat tear slipped over her cheek, and she glanced at the door, then to her smart watch, which flashed as she received a message. She wiped at her face and pushed past me without so much as a thank you.

  I sighed as she sped from the exit, and sat on my desk beside the uneven stack of tests.

  “How did it go?” Jessica asked from the hallway.

  “You know. Some of the kids looked pleased with themselves; others were willing to make a sacrifice to the ancient star gods in an effort to pass. The usual,” I joked.

  Jessica walked in, her high heels clacking on the floor. She was in a red pantsuit, and it made her look like a high-priced lawyer. Her eyes gleamed as she closed the door behind her. “Rex, I need you to stick around next week. We have a scheduling issue with the main exam supervisors, and I’m asking the professors to step in.”

  I raised my hands at my chest. “Jessica, I won’t be in town.”

  An eyebrow raised. “Is that so? Where are you going so soon after exams and before the holidays?”

  I swallowed, wishing I’d practiced the lie before I’d arrived. I hadn’t thought this through, but my tickets to South America had already been purchased by Marcus. We were leaving in two days.

  “There’s been a find near Fiji. Small island, and something that might significantly change that region’s history. I’ve been hired to join the crew… for a few days.” I pursed my lips, wondering if the lie would stick. I had read a blog from a contemporary of mine seeking evidence of a thousand-year-old migration through that area, and she might be able to track the proof down if she searched.

  “I thought you were working for me, Rex.” Jessica frowned, and her tone spoke volumes.

  “I am. I didn’t think it was against my contract to operate on the side, if it didn’t interfere with my teaching,” I said, knowing what my deal had been when I’d signed the papers. Richard Klein had been sure to read over the verbiage before I’d added my signature.

  Jessica stepped closer, and I could smell her perfume. It was probably French. “Professor Walker, I’m telling you it does interfere. You’re expected to assist us around exam time, like the rest of the faculty.”

  I glanced at the clock, and she noticed. “Somewhere more important to be?”

  “Look, Jessica, I—”

  “Save it. You go to Fiji, but I want your full attention when you return. Am I understood?”

  I put on my best smile and reached out, gently shaking her hand. “I’m sorry about the mix-up. I won’t let it happen again.”

  This seemed to break the ice, and she relaxed. She turned, slowly walking away, and I did my best to not stare after her as she did so. She paused at the door and returned my smile. “Maybe we can go for dinner when you’re back. You can tell me about the trip.”

  “It’s a date,” I replied, and she was gone. I was in a load of trouble with that woman, and knew I’d be walking on eggshells with her from now on.

  I had three hours before I needed to be at Richard’s house, and Marcus would be waiting for me. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my jacket pocket, seeing his initials on a text message.

  Dr. W. I’m outside.

  I laughed as I gathered the tests and my things, tossing them into the leather satchel. Marcus hadn’t called me that in years, not since I was his professor.

  As I stepped from the classroom, I hesitated for a moment. What if that wasn’t him?

  I grabbed the phone, dialing Marcus’ number. He answered on the second ring. “Rexford, you old bean. What is taking you so long?” He put on his best Bostonian accent, mimicking the wealthy elitists he so often admired. In the background, I heard sounds of the pub we’d planned to meet at.

  “You’re not outside to pick me up?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” he retorted, no longer goofing around with accents.

  “Damn it. I’ll be right there. Watch your back,” I warned him, and ended the conversation.

  The phone buzzed again, but I ignored Marcus’ call. I probably should have explained myself better.

  I walked through the hallways, nervously checking over my shoulder, but nothing felt out of place. The students were louder than usual, chatting happily, as some had finished their last exam. Others gathered books, studying along common-area tables in groups. I walked by the registrar’s offices and the cafeteria as I headed for the front doors.

  There it was. The same blacked-out car, parked in the loading zone.

  “Professor, great test. The study guide really helped,” Luca said, jogging over to me.

  I plucked a flyer for a Christmas party off a bulletin board, and handed it to Luca. “Would you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.” Luca was always quick to a debate, and even quicker to please those around him. I hated that it could be dangerous, but I doubted the driver would do anything to a student with a piece of paper.

  “See that BMW?”

  “Yeah, 7 Series. It’s sick.”

  “Can you knock on the passenger window and invite them to join this party?” I pointed at the flyer in his hand.

  “Uhm, friend of yours?”

  “Something like that. Just don’t mention my name. If he asks, you don’t know me.”

  Luca shrugged and pressed through the doors. I waited until a group of students were leaving and followed behind them, ducking low as Luca approached the car. I caught him banging on the glass, and I dodged away, racing for the staff parking lot.

  By the time I was in my car, driving the opposite direction, Luca was walking from the BMW, hands up, shouting something. The car remained there, waiting for me to exit the building, and I turned my attention off the rear view mirror.

  I drove, making quick work of the twenty blocks between my college and the bar, and decided to park past it, in a local auto shop’s lot. There were ten or so vehicles in various stages of body work, and no one would notice my SUV among them on a Friday at closing time. I left my bag and checked the streets before dashing for the bar.

  The spot was close enough to downtown to catch the blue-shirts crowd, and a few of them were already loudly arguing the merits of their investment plans when I entered. Marcus was at the same booth we always occupied, his laptop open. When he spotted me, he frowned, shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry about that.” I plopped into the seat, the cracked leather ben
ch pinching my leg.

  “What the hell, man? You scared the crap out of me,” he said loudly.

  “I know.” I explained what had happened, leaving out the issues and subsequent planned date with my boss, and he listened without a word until I was done.

  “Damn it. Good thing we’re leaving town. Let’s lay low until Sunday,” he advised.

  “I wish I could. I’m going to Klein’s for a dinner party tonight.” The waitress brought over a beer, sliding it across the dark wooden table.

  “Rex, the last thing you should be doing is walking around in the open. Everyone knows you and Klein are close. If someone’s after you, they’ll be at that party.”

  “I’d hope they weren’t on the guest list.” I sighed, wishing I could rewind things. How long had they been following me? Was it after I’d visited my sister, or well before?

  I took a sip and stared at his computer. “What have you found?”

  “These Believers are no joke if half of what I’m reading is true. Lots of speculation on some conspiracy sites, but nothing substantiated. They’re ghosts, Rex.”

  “And what do the internet whackos think of them?” I asked.

  He leaned closer, glancing around. Two gruff men sat in the booth beside us, wearing Red Sox hats and sharing a pitcher of beer.

  “One guy, a reputable source as far as the internet goes, says they worship beings from outer space. He claims they mirror the coming of Christ, but instead of Judgment Day, we’ll be visited by aliens.”

  “So Hunter Madison wasn’t lying.”

  “Nope. And if Hunter was one, I wonder how he escaped,” Marcus said, making a good observation.

  “You know cults. Easy to get in, impossible to leave. If he actually did break away, I bet it cost him a pretty penny.”

  Marcus flipped the computer around, showing a picture. It was a symbol, one I thought I’d seen somewhere before. It looked like the top half of a star with three points only, bending at their tips.

  “Do you know it?” I asked.

  “No. Can’t find much on it, either These guys are covert, Rex. Like, clean as a whistle.” Marcus sipped at an iced tea, and I had an idea.

  “Can you give me a ride tonight?”

  “Oh man, I have a date. She’s meeting me here in an hour,” Marcus pleaded.

  “Fine. But if I’m driven off the road and shot before I get to Klein’s, you’ll have to live with that,” I told him, keeping my voice low.

  “Damn it. Rex, you owe me for this.”

  ____________

  Doctor Richard Klein came from money, and I suspected he’d also done well for himself along the way. He owned a few properties near Harvard and rented them out to students who were used to the life of luxury. The type that wouldn’t stoop to residing in a dorm. Those alone probably earned him more annually than my salary, and every time I visited his home, I was reminded of how different our social classes were. The estate houses off Hammond Street continually impressed me, and while they weren’t quite on par with Madison’s East Hampton mansion, they were closing the gap quicky.

  Klein’s home was a large brick colonial, with four dormers topping the roof and a guest house at the end of the yard, a pool between them. It was shut down for the year and covered, and I walked toward the house, avoiding the main entrance. If someone was watching for us, they likely would have missed Marcus parking his hatchback several blocks away and our ensuing trail across Klein’s neighbor’s land.

  Klein’s two golden retrievers were in a large outdoor kennel, and they barked excitedly as they spotted Marcus and me. A motion sensor light flickered on at our movement, and a second later, the back door opened, revealing Janelle Klein. “Rex, is that you? What are you doing out here?” She wore a knee-length dress, an olive green number that made her look like a youthful fifty-seven.

  I stammered out an excuse. “I… I wanted to show Marcus the yard. Isn’t it incredible?”

  “Sure is. I like how the… trees line the…” Marcus stopped as Richard arrived, peering over his wife’s shoulder.

  She turned to him and smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Look. Rex brought a guest.”

  Richard frowned but waved us inside. “Marcus, good to see you again.”

  “Likewise.” They shook hands, and I kissed Janelle’s cheek, entering their warm and inviting abode.

  Richard’s wife slid her arm into Marcus’ and led him off toward the living room, and Richard came over. “What are you doing? You’re late, and you brought Marcus? This could be a real push for your career, Rex.”

  “I know, but my car broke down, and I needed a lift,” I said.

  “Too good for a taxi?”

  “We were at the bar…”

  “When are you going to grow up, Rex? You’re over forty, and you’re hanging out with this kid. Doing what? Chasing apparitions? I owe it to your parents to ensure you’re successful, and I’ll not let you throw your life away.”

  It had been some time since I’d been chastised by a parental figure, and I clenched my jaw, taking the brunt of it without response.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked, moving closer. Richard was wearing an Armani suit, the same one he’d worn to my mother’s funeral, and for a second, I closed my eyes, picturing the event. I’d walked around like a zombie for a week when I’d heard the news, and being reminded of that time firmed my resolve.

  With a glance to ensure none of the guests overheard, I tapped his chest with a finger, stepping directly in front of him. “No one asked you to butt into my life, Richard. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me over the years, helping my admission into school and providing references when necessary, but it’s gone on long enough. You’re right. I’m not a child, yet you feel this innate need to treat me like one. I like my job, and I’m not throwing anything away, let alone my life.” He was right about some things. I was still chasing after Dirk Walker, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

  Richard relaxed, smiling widely, his teeth white and perfect. “Maybe I have been pushing you a little too much. Why don’t you come in, have a drink, eat some dinner, and enjoy the company of contemporaries for an evening?”

  There was something about his tone that had me searching for Marcus over his shoulder. “Fine, but I can’t stay late. Lots of loose ends to tie up.” I realized I hadn’t mentioned going away to Venezuela to him, and at this moment, it was the last thing I wanted to do.

  We entered his living room, and I couldn’t believe how many people were in attendance. I should have known by the volume of cars lining the usually quiet street, but I had been more concerned with sneaking in than watching the road. I quickly estimated there were over thirty guests, and our quiet dinner party had turned into something much more.

  Jazz music echoed through his wireless speaker system, and I spied at least three servers wearing white dress shirts with black bow ties. One of them arrived with a tray of three-quarter-full champagne glasses, and I gladly took one.

  “Would you like some introductions?” Richard asked, but I’d met a few of them before, at summer barbecues or Harvard alumni events he’d dragged me to.

  I was about to wave him off when a man I didn’t recognize captured Richard’s attention. I caught the hard stare, the frown, and the puckered lips of a man desperate for a discussion. “I’ll be back shortly, Rex. Don’t forget to meet Genevieve Belcourte. She’s the one…”

  He must have noticed my expression firming again, and he stopped midsentence, walking toward the bald man across the room. I watched them as I sipped the champagne. Richard leaned in while the man whispered something to him, and they both turned, exiting the room, heading toward Richard’s staircase.

  “Quite the place.” Marcus startled me.

  “Sure. He’s the definitive host,” I muttered.

  “Did you try the crab puffs? And this bubbly is killer,” Marcus said.

  I glanced at his t shirt, with its obscure joke about computer coding half-cov
ered by the sport coat I’d made him bring. “I think we should go.”

  Being here felt fake, and all I could concentrate on was the car trailing me for the last while and how badly I wanted to fly to Venezuela to investigate our lead. Even if it turned out to be nothing, I had to know, and it was being funded by a man who could afford the loss.

  “We just got here,” Marcus protested.

  I was curious what had caused Richard to rush out of the room, leaving his guests, but his wife didn’t seem to notice, casually conversing with her friends, floating from one to another like a feather in the wind. She ended up approaching as I set my glass on a curio cabinet. A woman lingered behind her, and our gazes met. Her silky auburn hair was captivating, and she stepped around Janelle, jutting her small hand out.

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said in a rush. “Terri. Terri Prophet.”

  I didn’t know the name. “Pleased to meet you.” I shook her hand, finding it warm, like she’d just been cradling a cup of coffee.

  “I read your paper on the Bering Land Bridge when I was in my senior year. It changed my understanding of migration patterns,” she said.

  “Oh, you were the one that read it,” I joked, catching a glint in her eyes.

  “I’ll leave you to talk,” Janelle said, and a moment later, she was gone, chatting with the next guest.

  The room was sizable, tall ceilings with enormous windows overlooking the backyard, and wood crackled in the giant fireplace centering the room. A couch faced it, and no one was seated there, leaving it open. Terri motioned for us to sit, and I watched Marcus wiggle his eyebrows and take off, holding another champagne flute.

  “Do you have a moment to chat? I’d love to pick your brain,” she said.

  She was striking, her dark blue eyes widening as if awaiting my response. “Sure. That would be nice.” The sofa was firm and uncomfortable, like everything in a formal living space, but the heat from the fireplace made up for it. “What do you do, Terri?”

  Color rose in her neck, but I pretended not to notice. “I’m a TA, working in Doctor Klein’s department.”