really don’t know a lot about Professor Rook except for his dealings with the students here. He was a closed book. Therefore, our list is as follows: me, for obvious reasons; Grady; Rhiannon; and his other student clients.
It’s an incredibly unhelpful list, considering that I now know I didn’t kill him—thanks to Kenneth’s revelation that Professor Rook was run over not once, but twice, and my turn was the latter, after the man was already dead. But who would hate the professor enough to run him down in the street, without hesitation or latent regret?
We wrack our brains for several days, but we can’t come up with any more enemies of the professor’s. There’s simply not enough evidence in his abandoned classroom to give us any further leads.
Grady was stuck in Texas when the professor was killed, and Rhiannon had already passed. Even so, we start with Grady. It’s the logical place to begin.
I’m gratified to find him exactly where I thought he’d be—in the conservatory on the dormitory roof. When we emerge from the narrow staircase onto the tarred surface, a biting wind swirls around us, making me shove both hands in my jacket pockets, even the one that’s laced through Ricardo’s. My pocket looks comically large with both of our hands jammed inside.
There’s a shadow of someone moving around inside the glass house some of the classes use to study botany. It has to be him.
Nodding, Ricardo urges me forward. We’re back to the show of coupledom. It’s starting to irk me that Ricardo is so good at pretending like this. It’s one area where his skill exceeds mine.
“Grady?” I ask as I step inside the conservatory, letting go of Ricardo’s hand to fit through the narrow opening. Warm humidity swirls around me, and I can feel my hair expanding. Straightening my headband, I move further into the space to make room for Ricardo.
“Shut the door behind you,” Grady calls from behind a tall plant I can’t identify. As he steps out from behind the dark green foliage, a pair of small pruning shears gleams in his hand. Catching sight of us, his mouth opens in a surprised smile. “What brought y’all up here?”
“We wanted to see if you’re okay, man,” Ricardo says. “I don’t want to think about what I’d do if someone I cared about passed away.” Stepping up behind me, he wraps an arm around my shoulder and tucks me into his side.
“Especially now that Professor Rook is dead,” I add. “We know he and Rhiannon had history.”
Grady’s expression darkens, and he resumes pruning leaves from the tall, shapely bonzai he was working on when we interrupted him. “You’re talking about the drugs he sold her. And whoever told her about them in the first place.”
A jab of guilt pierces my composure, making me duck my head. Because that person Grady mentioned? I knew her, once. “I know if it were me, I’d be disappointed Professor Rook was never caught and prosecuted for his crimes.”
Grady’s eyes flicker over us, as if he’s measuring our sincerity. Then he nods. “I was pretty angry when I heard, but after a while I figured that being run over was a kind of justice too. Sure, it wasn’t lawful, but it must have been a terrible way to die. I reckon it has to be enough.” He hesitates. “Rhiannon’s parents are floored, though. You know the police called there to talk to them? See if they hired someone to kill Rook? They were furious. It wasn’t a terrible idea on the police’s part. Rhiannon’s parents are pretty intense.”
He sounds so defeated, so numb, my heart goes out to him. Rhiannon’s parents though? It’s another avenue to investigate. “I’m sorry, all the same.”
“I appreciate that, Charlotte.” There’s a small pile of clipped leaves scattered over the gravel floor at his feet. Turning his back on us, he continues to work.
My mind is humming as Ricardo and I walk across the roof to the door that leads inside. If what Grady said about Rhiannon’s parents is true, they’re our best lead. And it also means they may be behind the threats to Gul and me. I know why they’d threaten me, if they discovered my part in Rhiannon’s downfall, but Gul? That I don’t know.
Ricardo doesn’t say anything until we’re alone on the staircase. “What do you think?” he asks, gliding his hand along the shiny wooden bannister.
I glance up at him, my eyes catching on the reddish stubble along his