Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page B
Authors: Carolyn Arnold
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these students were in my last class, except for Janie, her roommate. Not to mention, if her parents sent you, you should know who her friends are already. If that will be all,” Harland stated dryly.
Sara crossed her legs, drawing the professor’s eyes to her. “Actually, one more question, Professor.”
“Why not.”
“We understand you also own a publishing company and are running a contest, which you extend to students. Was Halie entering this?”
“I’m not sure what this has to do with a concerned parent inquiring after his daughter.”
“It’s just a question.” Sara smiled.
Harland didn’t return it. “I believe she was going to.”
“What do you mean by that? Did something stop her from entering?”
There was a knock and Harland pulled his eyes from contact with Sara, past her, to the door. It opened and a female student was there with a laptop bag strapped over her shoulder.
“Kristen, what is it?”
Sean picked up on the brash nature in the professor’s voice, and the unsettled eyes of the student. When her eyes met Sean’s, she smiled.
“I just have a question about something in today’s class, if it isn’t any trouble,” she said to the professor.
“Well, as you can see, I have company at this—”
Sara stood and took Sean’s hand. “We’re finished. Thank you for your time, Professor.”
To The Top
WHO TEACHERS VIEWED AS THEIR students’ friends could differ greatly from the truth, but they had three names from Professor Harland. One name wasn’t a surprise, Halie’s roommate, Janie, while one certainly was, and the third they still had to meet.
Sara and Sean were outside in the courtyard. The sun was warm today, and the fulfillment of spring, strong. The melody of chirping birds confirmed it wasn’t just a hopeful dream.
“He wrote down Justin as being her friend? Why didn’t he tell us that? He acted as if he didn’t really know her,” Sara said.
“He did seem fascinated by her father.”
“We’re going to have to talk more to that kid. But how are we supposed to do that now? He’s under the impression we’re literary agents. Guess we could always play that up.”
She shook her head. “Remember we didn’t think he really bought that line. Let’s start with the third person on the list. Her name is Monica.”
“All good and dandy, but how do you propose we do that? We don’t have access to the registry and we don’t have a last name.”
“The dean.” Speaking her plan out loud tossed her stomach.
“We need to keep this as low profile as possible.”
“Yes, I know, Sean, but we also have a girl to save.”
“You believe she’s alive.”
“I have to, darling.”
He caressed her arm. “Another reason I love you.”
“If we give in to thinking she’s already lost, what would we be in a hurry to save?”
“All right, I’ll let you lead the way, but why don’t we just go back and talk to the lovely professor?”
“You saw the guy. He shut down. You know it. I know it. But I’ve got this.” Her words communicated a resolute confidence, but her insides fluttered like the flapping wings of a hummingbird.
“We appreciate you seeing us, Dean Fleming.” Sara slipped into a green chair across from his desk. Unlike the professor’s office, the dean’s spoke of money, with ornate touches of dark wood, a deep desk, and built-in bookcases.
“Please, Arthur is fine.”
She wanted to look at Sean, but her instinct told her that, in this case, instead of strengthening her resolve, it would weaken it. She didn’t know why the thought of facing this man made her crumble inside. Her university days weren’t a bad time in her life.
“Arthur, Mr. Davenport sent us to inquire on his daughter. Now, we’ve already spoken to her literary professor, Mr. Harland, and he provided us with a few names of her friends, but he only gave us first names.”
“Why not go back and ask him for the surnames?”
“Well, the
Sara crossed her legs, drawing the professor’s eyes to her. “Actually, one more question, Professor.”
“Why not.”
“We understand you also own a publishing company and are running a contest, which you extend to students. Was Halie entering this?”
“I’m not sure what this has to do with a concerned parent inquiring after his daughter.”
“It’s just a question.” Sara smiled.
Harland didn’t return it. “I believe she was going to.”
“What do you mean by that? Did something stop her from entering?”
There was a knock and Harland pulled his eyes from contact with Sara, past her, to the door. It opened and a female student was there with a laptop bag strapped over her shoulder.
“Kristen, what is it?”
Sean picked up on the brash nature in the professor’s voice, and the unsettled eyes of the student. When her eyes met Sean’s, she smiled.
“I just have a question about something in today’s class, if it isn’t any trouble,” she said to the professor.
“Well, as you can see, I have company at this—”
Sara stood and took Sean’s hand. “We’re finished. Thank you for your time, Professor.”
To The Top
WHO TEACHERS VIEWED AS THEIR students’ friends could differ greatly from the truth, but they had three names from Professor Harland. One name wasn’t a surprise, Halie’s roommate, Janie, while one certainly was, and the third they still had to meet.
Sara and Sean were outside in the courtyard. The sun was warm today, and the fulfillment of spring, strong. The melody of chirping birds confirmed it wasn’t just a hopeful dream.
“He wrote down Justin as being her friend? Why didn’t he tell us that? He acted as if he didn’t really know her,” Sara said.
“He did seem fascinated by her father.”
“We’re going to have to talk more to that kid. But how are we supposed to do that now? He’s under the impression we’re literary agents. Guess we could always play that up.”
She shook her head. “Remember we didn’t think he really bought that line. Let’s start with the third person on the list. Her name is Monica.”
“All good and dandy, but how do you propose we do that? We don’t have access to the registry and we don’t have a last name.”
“The dean.” Speaking her plan out loud tossed her stomach.
“We need to keep this as low profile as possible.”
“Yes, I know, Sean, but we also have a girl to save.”
“You believe she’s alive.”
“I have to, darling.”
He caressed her arm. “Another reason I love you.”
“If we give in to thinking she’s already lost, what would we be in a hurry to save?”
“All right, I’ll let you lead the way, but why don’t we just go back and talk to the lovely professor?”
“You saw the guy. He shut down. You know it. I know it. But I’ve got this.” Her words communicated a resolute confidence, but her insides fluttered like the flapping wings of a hummingbird.
“We appreciate you seeing us, Dean Fleming.” Sara slipped into a green chair across from his desk. Unlike the professor’s office, the dean’s spoke of money, with ornate touches of dark wood, a deep desk, and built-in bookcases.
“Please, Arthur is fine.”
She wanted to look at Sean, but her instinct told her that, in this case, instead of strengthening her resolve, it would weaken it. She didn’t know why the thought of facing this man made her crumble inside. Her university days weren’t a bad time in her life.
“Arthur, Mr. Davenport sent us to inquire on his daughter. Now, we’ve already spoken to her literary professor, Mr. Harland, and he provided us with a few names of her friends, but he only gave us first names.”
“Why not go back and ask him for the surnames?”
“Well, the
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