The Devil Makes Three (11 page)

I am not a smoker.

Taking the cigarette in hand I asked the contributor for a light and once again got what I wanted. I sat there, holding the cigarette for a while, occasionally putting it up to my face, but never to my lips. The last thing I wanted was to start hacking away and blow my cover.

As I sat this way, I considered how to get the envelope from under the stairs without drawing attention to myself. My bag lay next to me on the step and people passed me on the other side. This seemed as reasonable an excuse as any, so with the next passing body, I scooted over on the steps and pushed the bag off into the garden. Swearing loudly I flicked the cigarette away and stepped off the landing, down into the snow and mud. Bending down, I snagged the envelope and shoved it in my pocket, then began beating the snow off my bag. Inwardly I thanked my unlucky stars that my new laptop wasn’t in the thing. After I finished with my bag, I tossed it back on my shoulder and sat back down on the steps, hesitant to make my break too quickly. A few more people came and went and I got another cigarette from them. When this had burned down to ash I tossed the butt away and got up, heading to Professor Collin and another delightfully tension-fraught ten minutes.

By this time the snow had begun to accumulate even faster. Walking down the sidewalk next to the road, I watched as cars crept by, sliding and fishtailing at the slightest braking.

I arrived at his office at 5:30, finding the entire floor vacated except for the light under his door. Knocking, I braced myself for anything. My imagination had a tendency of running away and now was no exception. Alternate thoughts had crossed my mind all day, ranging from him tossing my paper across his office and telling me I was an imbecile to him ravishing me on his desk.

If either happened, I was hoping for the latter.

“Come in.”

I entered the office to find him staring out the window at the parking lot below. He smiled at me quickly then went back to the sight that seemed so absorbing.

“What is it?” I asked, having entered the building from the other side. “Did someone get in a wreck?”

“Snow.”

“Yeah? What about it?” I flopped down in a chair and dropped my bag on the floor. My paper sat in the middle of his desk, as if he had waited particularly for me. Next to it sat his bag, packed and ready to go. “Did you wait for me? Sorry I’m so late. I got stuck on something and couldn’t get away.” Something for your alter ego, I thought wryly. He couldn’t very well hold my tardiness against me if it was in the service of his other self, now could he?

“You’re fine,” he said with a sigh, turning away from the window to face me. “It was just as bad at 5:00 as it is now. Actually I hoped the plows would come by, but I haven’t seen them.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not afraid of snow, are you?”

He grimaced. “I’m from Texas. I’ve never even seen this much snow, let alone driven in it.”

“Oh.” In the back of my mind I filed away that bit of information for the next time I felt like Googling him. “Well, then you have about four options.”

“Really? I’d love to hear them.” He continued to stare out the window, serious dismay emanating from him.

“First: move out of Jamestown. Second: learn to drive in it. Third: public transportation. And Fourth: move within walking distance.”

“Hmm. First: I’d hate to leave in the middle of my first semester teaching here. Second: I’ve never been a real trial-by-fire kind of person. Third: I’ve never taken a bus in my life. And fourth: I’ve lived among the college masses and don’t intend to do it as a professor.”

“Well then there’s only one more option.”

“And what’s that?”

I pointed to the wall lined with bookshelves. “Get rid of the books, put in a couch with a blanket and pillow and keep a suit and toothbrush in your desk.”

“Option five it might be.”

I leaned forward and tapped the paper. “So did you read it?”

“I read it and thought it wasn’t bad for a first draft. I made some notes and a few suggestions on where you could expand.” He handed it back to me and smiled. “For not really being interested you have some interesting analysis.”

“I just wrote what I got from the books.”

He smiled. “Perhaps. But you seem to have a knack for reading between the lines.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to know.” I blushed and took the paper, thrusting it into my bag then pointing out the window. “So what are you going to do?” With that, the lights flickered out and the building went black except for the gray light reflecting off the clouds and snow.

“Oh great.” He glanced behind him and frowned. “Drive home I guess. I’m not staying here all night.”

“Well good luck. I won’t keep you. The longer we chat the worse the roads get. And the power probably went out all over campus, including the traffic lights.”

I found it interesting that both Collin and Corbin where experiencing a bit of anxiety over the weather. It only intensified my suspicion that they were the same person.

“I’ll walk out with you.” He gathered his bag and coat from a small closet next to the window and walked out into the dark hall with me. After pulling the locked office door shut we made our way to the staircase.

A skylight in the ceiling above the stairs gave little light and we felt our way along, taking things slowly. At the third floor landing I stepped too far and fell forward a step. Reaching out with swift reflexes Collin seized my arm and kept me upright. 

“Watch it now.”

“Thanks,” I said, noticing he didn’t let go right away. Instead, he held on to me until we reach the main floor. When he let go, my arm felt slightly bare, as if something belonging was now missing.

We stood at the door for a moment, looking out into the snowy campus.

“How are you getting home?” he asked.

“Bus. There’s a stop right by the road there. It should come along in about five minutes.”

He pushed the door open and I stepped out. Turning, I waited for him to put on his coat and follow. “How will you get home?”

“Slowly I guess.”

“Drive safely.” It felt like a stupid thing to say, but the concern was genuine. I certainly wouldn’t want to drive in this mess. The only way anyone could get me in a vehicle was with the promise that it was huge and would crush anything we hit.

“Uh oh.”

“What?” I looked over in the direction he motioned to see the bus gliding away from the stop. Taking a few steps towards it I moaned and scrubbed at my hair with my gloved hands.

“When does the next bus come?”

“Tonight? Probably never.”

“How far do you live?”

“About three miles.”

“Well come on. You can critique my method.”

“Huh?” I glanced at him swiftly, wondering if I caught what he implied.

“You can tell me what I’m doing wrong.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and pushed a button. In the parking lot a brand new, brilliant black, Audi S5’s lights flared, horn beeped once and engine roared to life. Glancing at me, he smiled sarcastically. “Unless of course you would prefer to walk.”

I actually considered this option for about half a second. But when considering the odds of getting in a car wreck against the prospect of ten more minutes with him, I decided the odds were in my favor. After all, people drove in nasty weather all the time and only a few of them died.

I followed him to the car and was only mildly surprised, but intensely flattered, when he opened my door for me. Making sure I got settled inside he shut the door forcefully, knocking quite a bit of snow off it. As he walked around the car he brushed more snow off with his leather gloved hand and got in, sliding into his seat with a sense of ownership.

“Have you had this car long?” It still had that new car smell. The leather seats were crisp with the cold but warming quickly as the engine idled.

“About two months. If you reach down on the right side of your seat, near the door, you’ll find a button. If you pull it up, it will warm the seat. When you get too hot just push down and it will shut off.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I followed his directions. Luxury cars were for people like my parents, not for thirty-something’s that I found attractive. The only men’s cars I had ever ridden in were all at least five years old and usually driven into the ground. That was why I rarely got into them anymore.

“Do you mind if we sit here and let the windows defrost? I don’t have a scraper.”

“That’s fine.”

“In the meantime you can tell me how to drive in snow.”

“What makes you think I know how to drive in snow?”

“You have a license, don’t you?”

“Yes, but no car.”

“You must have driven in it at some point.”

“True. And since I want to get home alive I’ll tell you what I know.”

As we drove, a sort of tense silence hung over us, not really from each other’s company, but more from the outside threats. The roads were like sheets of ice covered in thick slush. More than once the car slid when stopping for a light and each time he accelerated from a stop his tires spun. Around us, people in smaller, lighter cars spun out all over the road adding obstacles to maneuver around and avoid.

And still, the snow continued to fall.

Besides the occasional expression of fear from me, news radio played quietly in the back ground on an AM station I wasn’t familiar with. This served as the soundtrack to our ride, and reminded me why I avoided this type of radio at all costs.

“The assassination of Senator Wilhelm comes as a shock to all today. The senator is rumored to have been on vacation with his family when his body was found with traces of poison throughout his system.”

“Do you always listen to news radio?” I asked, eyeing the dial with wary disbelief.

“I like to know what’s going on in the world.”

“I hate knowing what’s going on in the world. It gives me anxiety.”

“Would you like me to change the station?”

“No. It’s fine. I suppose I should check in with the world every month or so.”

“To make sure it’s still turning?”

“Something like that.”

“What do you prefer?” he asked, reaching for the knobs.

“Don’t take your hands off the wheel!” I said. “Please, the radio is fine.”

He laughed quietly and gripped the steering wheel properly again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

My phone rang and I opened it, choosing not to respond to his apology. “Hello?”

“Is this Gretchen?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“This is Katie from PJ’s PCs. I have some news for you about your laptop.”

“Oh. Could you get it working?”

“I couldn’t get it working, but it is under warranty and we can set you up with a new one, no problem. As for your files, I was able to retrieve some, but I’m not sure if it was all of them. Do you have a lot of music on your laptop?”

“Yeah but don’t worry about getting all that. I can put it back on. What else did you come up with?”

“I found some class files. Five of them.”

“Oh good. That should be all of them.”

“The data didn’t look corrupted either so you should be good. There were class notes in each one and a few research papers.”

“Thank you. Anything else?” As I asked it, I felt like smacking my forehead. I had completely forgotten about my inventory.

“Well yes. I found one other thing.”

“What was it?”

“An excel spreadsheet that looked like some sort of finances. It had to do with jewelry and clothes.”

I exhaled deeply, hoping I didn’t sound too guilty. “Oh. That. Good.”

“Would you like me to e-mail this stuff to you?”

“Yes. When can I get the laptop?”

“You can come by anytime. I’ve got one set aside for you with your name on it. Anyone can help you, but let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks Katie.”

I hung up and sat back in the seat, no longer worried about living through the next three miles. I was more concerned with whether or not Katie was the type of person who possessed deductive reasoning and could figure out why I had all that stuff.

“Are you okay?”

“My life is flashing before my eyes.”

“Must be a fairly short scene.”

I looked over at him and grimaced. “I’m not that young.”

He shrugged. “I just remember being your age. I hadn’t done anything yet. Except one trip to Latvia. And Cabo I guess, but who hasn’t done that?”

“I haven’t. And Latvia? What’s that all about?”

“Don’t ask. Anyway, don’t let my age fool you. I’ve seen a lot.”

When we pulled into my parking lot the snow lay thick on the ground and we both debated the whereabouts of the city’s snowplows. He suggested they were in accidents like the plethora of cars lining the sides of the road. I disagreed, firmly declaring my belief that, if the drivers had any brains at all, they were at home in front of their fires, paychecks be damned.

“Thanks for the ride. I probably would have gotten squished by some sliding car on my walk home,” I said.

“My pleasure.”

“Do you live far?”

He smiled. “I live about five miles in the other direction from the school.”

My heart sank. I couldn’t make him drive another eight miles down the foothills when it had taken us an hour to go only three miles. “That far?”

“Yup. What was I thinking? Obviously I didn’t have snowy drives on the mind when I signed my lease.”

I sighed and pointed ahead to the covered parking. “Number 32.”

“Hmm?”

“My spot. It’s number 32. Pull in.”

“Oh…” he glanced at the parking spot, then at the building. He couldn’t seem to believe what was happening, and honestly neither could I. I had never willingly let anyone in my apartment.

“What? You’d rather spend the rest of your night driving home and possibly not making it?”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to come in. But… I’m not sure this is entirely appropriate.” He turned slowly and met my gaze with a steady, honest stare.

I met his gaze then pretended to be enthralled with my phone for a moment. “Collin, I think we passed appropriate a while ago.”

I could still feel him staring at me and I forced myself to look up. His expression hadn’t changed. I had said nothing that shocked him.