Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,17

then waited five years and hired them to find her? No, that didn’t make sense to him. “I just want to find out what else he’s holding back.” And until he did, Wade intended to tread very carefully around the other man.

Victoria turned to fully face him. “To know him, we have to know Kennedy.” She straightened her shoulders. “And not just the bare facts. We already know those. At the time of her disappearance, Kennedy was twenty-­two years old, majoring in psychology. She was an avid runner, she worked as a waitress at a club just off-­campus, and she was planning to marry Lucas.” She tapped her chin in a considering manner. “On the surface, she seemed to have a perfect life.” The wind pulled a lock of Victoria’s hair free from her ponytail. “I’ve always thought the perfect lives were the ones that held the most jagged pieces.”

Now that was interesting. “You don’t believe in perfection?”

“No. Not in perfection. Not in happy endings.” Her lips flattened. “I spend far too much time with the dead for that.”

And she was far too comfortable with them.

But he didn’t say that. Instead, Wade looked over to the right, focusing his gaze on the Life Sciences building. “I think it’s about time for the good doctor to see us now,” he murmured.

Because they had an appointment in five minutes with Dr. Troy North. Dr. North was the acting head of the psychology department and he’d been Kennedy’s advisor when she was a student at Worthington. If anyone on campus could tell them about Kennedy, he should be their key.

Victoria nodded curtly and turned to hurry down the steps that would take them away from the clock tower and toward the Life Sciences building. A little research had shown them that the psychology department was housed in that seemingly massive building. Wade followed her, and after a while he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “We aren’t going to talk about it, are we?”

She froze. So did he. It was either freeze or barrel into her.

“Wade . . .” Her spine was stiff. So was her whole body.

He didn’t want her nervous, but he did want answers. “Just making sure I understand the rules.”

She looked back at him. So lovely. But her eyes were filled with a sadness that he hated. Did she even realize that he could see her pain? “I think the rules are clear,” Victoria said, then turned away and kept walking.

He didn’t follow, not immediately. I’m going to change the rules, baby. I’ll be changing everything.

Because one night with her wasn’t nearly enough for him. Yes, he’d marked her.

But she’d marked him, too. A mark that cut deep.

“KENNEDY LANE?” Dr. Troy North leaned back in his leather chair. He exhaled on a rough sigh. “Now that’s a name that I haven’t heard in years.”

Victoria perched on the edge of her seat. Wade was right beside her on the long, rather uncomfortable couch. Only he didn’t perch so much as sprawl. Dominate the space. He appeared completely at ease and in control, but then, Wade had probably done hundreds of interviews just like this one.

I don’t know why he wanted me in the field.

Usually, Wade just called her in when she was supposed to examine the dead or work in the lab to study evidence. Not to interview witnesses.

Not that Dr. North was a witness—­not exactly.

Her gaze darted to the wall behind him—­and all of his diplomas. A bachelor’s degree in psychology, a master’s degree, both from Northwestern University. A Ph.D. from Harvard. He had certainly spent a lot of time studying the inner workings of the human mind.

He was like Sarah, she thought. Only a much harsher, male version. When he looked at her—­and the man kept glancing her way—­Victoria had the uncomfortable feeling he was trying to peer into her head. Or her soul.

“Northwestern,” she murmured. “I’ve heard it’s a great school. I have a . . . friend who attended.” Though she didn’t think that Flynn Marshall really qualified as a friend. “Did you enjoy your time there?”

Dr. North seemed caught off-­guard by her question, and that was exactly what she wanted. “I—­ Yes, I learned a great deal there. It was at Northwestern when I realized just how very interesting the human mind could be. Our motivations. Our desires. Our compulsions.”

The way he said those words . . . it was just creepy.

“Dr. North . . .” Wade began, his voice flat and calm. “What, exactly, was

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