Burn You Twice - Mary Burton Page 0,48

building’s escape routes last week, double-checking that the exit doors were functioning.

At the front door, she swiped her faculty identification card, and the lock opened. They crossed the tiled hallway to the door marked STAIRS and climbed to the second floor.

“You know the room number. You find it,” she said.

Nate’s brow furrowed as he nodded and began checking each number over the doors until they reached room 208. “This is it.”

She tried the room’s closed door and, to her relief, found it open. They stepped inside, and she flipped on the lights, which flickered on over rows of long tables and chairs. There was a lectern at the front of the room, a blackboard, and a screen that could be lowered if the professor needed it.

Nate folded his arms over his chest, walking up and down the aisles. “Where should I sit?”

“Where would you like to sit?”

He drew in a breath and then nodded as he moved to the front. “Here. I don’t want to be distracted.”

She could count on one hand the number of students she’d had last year who’d willingly chosen the front row. Everyone wanted the back so they could respond to the random text message or avoid her gaze when she was seeking an answer.

“I am satisfied,” he said.

“Good. What do you say we get an ice cream?”

Nate regarded her with such soulful eyes that it nearly took her breath away. God, she loved her kid. “Can I get two scoops?”

She grinned. “Yes, you may.”

As they walked out of the building and passed a display cabinet filled with school memorabilia, the boy said, “Joan should have a Griz hat so when she goes home, she won’t forget us.”

“That’s a great idea.”

They closed the building’s front door behind them and returned to her car. Nate settled into the back seat. She slid behind the wheel, turned the ignition, and looked in her rearview mirror. As she pushed in the clutch and shifted into reverse, she spotted a man strolling past the math building. She almost dismissed him, but something about his erect posture made her look twice.

Tall and lean, he had a muscled frame. His jeans, jacket, and dark-blue sweater all appeared new, as did his shoes. He was walking with purpose, as if he had been here before.

She stopped as a nervous chill burned down her spine. Her heart beat faster in her chest. She waited for him to turn so she could see his face.

As if he sensed her gaze, he turned toward her direction, searching. When he spotted her car, she recognized him. It was Elijah Weston.

Heat rose in her cheeks, and her breathing shallowed. She gripped the wheel tighter as she moved quickly into first gear and then pressed the accelerator too hard. The car lurched forward and stalled.

“Shit. Sorry, kiddo. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Language, Mom.”

“You’re right.” She swiped a strand of hair from her eyes and swallowed another curse.

“Can we see where that building burned?”

“Why?” Ann challenged quickly.

“I don’t know. Might be cool.”

“We’ll see.”

Elijah walked toward them, his gait unhurried but steady. The side mirror caught Elijah’s stoic expression. He moved closer, as if he had all the time in the world. Her heart continued to beat faster as she tightened her hands on the steering wheel, doing her best to look calm for Nate’s sake.

She was not anything close to calm. She was scared and angry. Not only was Elijah out of prison now, but he had registered for her class. When Gideon had called her and told her about Elijah enrolling in her class, she had called her department chair, reminding him of her history with Elijah. The department chair had informed her that Elijah had already threatened a lawsuit if he was denied entry. Faced with Elijah having served his time and receiving a glowing recommendation from the prison warden, the university would have to accept him. If and when he became a threat, they would act.

The financial needs of her separation had made it so she’d had no choice but to accept. Like it or not, she would be facing him in two more days and then every week for the rest of the semester.

But that was another day. And she had learned a long time ago not to steal problems from another day, because today had plenty to go around. Gathering her composure, she pressed the accelerator, leaving him watching her as she drove off.

Confessions of an Arsonist

I am going to plan the mother of all fires. I’m

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