Leaning into Ricardo, I give him my best flirty smile. “Be right back.”
Grin widening, Ricardo boops my nose. “I’ll miss you, mon coeur.”
He’s so overly saccharine, it makes me want to hurl. But I stuff that impulse down and level a withering gaze at Kenneth. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk, but not here.”
“If you insist.” I get up, making a show of how much of an imposition it is for me to leave lunch to talk to Kenneth. If anyone wonders, I want them to infer that I broke up with him and not the truth. That he ended it because I wasn’t enough for him. He said it was because he didn’t want to commit, but I didn’t believe him even the first time he said it.
Why would I be enough for an attractive, intelligent future doctor like Kenneth when I wasn’t enough for my biological father, my stepfather, or increasingly, my own mother?
Kenneth leads me into one of the treatment rooms in the health center. It’s freezing in here, as usual.
I draw my uniform jacket tight around me and button it clear up to the collar. Pulling myself up onto the hospital bed, I cross my legs. Kenneth always liked my legs, and they do look fantastic in my uniform skirt and skin-tone tights. I might as well use them to advantage. “You wanted to talk?”
Kenneth rakes a hand through his straight, sandy brown hair before turning to me. His eyes skim up my legs before settling on my face. Pink spots appear on his cheeks. “Um, yeah. I wasn’t at the morgue when they finished the autopsy on the professor who died, but my buddy was. I asked him to let me know if they found anything interesting.”
My eyebrow cocks in disdain. I can’t let him know he’s got my interest. “And you thought I’d be interested because?”
“He called me this morning. They found something.”
It’s suddenly hot in this exam room. Fidgeting with my shirt collar, I sit up straighter. Kenneth has my full attention now. Is it possible they found more evidence that implicates me in Professor Rook’s death?
I take in a breath as my pulse speeds up. Maybe Cal’s tires are unique and they traced the tread pattern to his car. Or maybe they did match the DNA on my discarded program to me somehow. What if the anonymous woman who called 911 knew more than they said in that recording, and it’s now coming to bear?
Schooling my features, I play it cool. “And? What did he say that was so interesting?”
Kenneth eyes me for a minute, then speaks. “They found marks from two different types of tire treads on the guy’s body.”
My mouth opens, but I snap it shut. “Meaning?”
“They think he was run over twice, by two different vehicles.”
13
My head is spinning even as my brain starts to rationalize what Kenneth has just said. “Are you kidding me right now? They think Professor Rook was run over twice? Like, by two totally different cars? Do they know what time this happened?”
Kenneth nods. “They think it happened pretty quickly, because of the damage to the body. They noticed that the guy’s watch was smashed right at 11, and figured that was the time of the first impact. They’re not sure when the second impact occurred, but they’re guessing it happened maybe ten minutes later.”
A towering sense of relief fills me, spreading warmth from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. “You’re saying that Professor Rook was killed at eleven, last Monday night, and then someone else ran over his body sometime shortly after that. So, whoever ran over him the first time killed him, and the second time wasn’t fatal?”
His eyes lock with mine. “That’s what I’m telling you, yes.”
I can’t help it; I grin. There is no way I killed Professor Rook if that time of death is accurate. I didn’t even leave Daddy’s event until 11. I didn’t get back to the academy until closer to 11:20. I’m not a murderer after all.
Kenneth is watching my every move, measuring my reaction.
I tamp down the surge of relief coursing through me and soften my smile. “Thanks for telling me.”
Kenneth stares at me, his lean body almost looming over mine. “The second car, it was you, wasn’t it?”
Relief sufficiently killed.
“No comment.”
He reaches for my hand, but thinks better of it, dropping his hand against his side. “I’m not the press,