Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) by Nathan Hystad (ereader iphone .TXT) 📕

flashed as she received a message. She wiped at her face and pushed past me without so much as a thank you.

I sighed as she sped from the exit, and sat on my desk beside the uneven stack of tests.

“How did it go?” Jessica asked from the hallway.

“You know. Some of the kids looked pleased with themselves; others were willing to make a sacrifice to the ancient star gods in an effort to pass. The usual,” I joked.

Jessica walked in, her high heels clacking on the floor. She was in a red pantsuit, and it made her look like a high-priced lawyer. Her eyes gleamed as she closed the door behind her. “Rex, I need you to stick around next week. We have a scheduling issue with the main exam supervisors, and I’m asking the professors to step in.”

I raised my hands at my chest. “Jessica, I won’t be in town.”

An eyebrow raised. “Is that so? Where are you going so soon after exams and before the holidays?”

I swallowed, wishing I’d practiced the lie before I’d arrived. I hadn’t thought this through, but my tickets to South America had already been purchased by Marcus. We were leaving in two days.

“There’s been a find near Fiji. Small island, and something that might significantly change that region’s history. I’ve been hired to join the crew… for a few days.” I pursed my lips, wondering if the lie would stick. I had read a blog from a contemporary of mine seeking evidence of a thousand-year-old migration through that area, and she might be able to track the proof down if she searched.

“I thought you were working for me, Rex.” Jessica frowned, and her tone spoke volumes.

“I am. I didn’t think it was against my contract to operate on the side, if it didn’t interfere with my teaching,” I said, knowing what my deal had been when I’d signed the papers. Richard Klein had been sure to read over the verbiage before I’d added my signature.

Jessica stepped closer, and I could smell her perfume. It was probably French. “Professor Walker, I’m telling you it does interfere. You’re expected to assist us around exam time, like the rest of the faculty.”

I glanced at the clock, and she noticed. “Somewhere more important to be?”

“Look, Jessica, I—”

“Save it. You go to Fiji, but I want your full attention when you return. Am I understood?”

I put on my best smile and reached out, gently shaking her hand. “I’m sorry about the mix-up. I won’t let it happen again.”

This seemed to break the ice, and she relaxed. She turned, slowly walking away, and I did my best to not stare after her as she did so. She paused at the door and returned my smile. “Maybe we can go for dinner when you’re back. You can tell me about the trip.”

“It’s a date,” I replied, and she was gone. I was in a load of trouble with that woman, and knew I’d be walking on eggshells with her from now on.

I had three hours before I needed to be at Richard’s house, and Marcus would be waiting for me. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my jacket pocket, seeing his initials on a text message.

Dr. W. I’m outside.

I laughed as I gathered the tests and my things, tossing them into the leather satchel. Marcus hadn’t called me that in years, not since I was his professor.

As I stepped from the classroom, I hesitated for a moment. What if that wasn’t him?

I grabbed the phone, dialing Marcus’ number. He answered on the second ring. “Rexford, you old bean. What is taking you so long?” He put on his best Bostonian accent, mimicking the wealthy elitists he so often admired. In the background, I heard sounds of the pub we’d planned to meet at.

“You’re not outside to pick me up?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” he retorted, no longer goofing around with accents.

“Damn it. I’ll be right there. Watch your back,” I warned him, and ended the conversation.

The phone buzzed again, but I ignored Marcus’ call. I probably should have explained myself better.

I walked through the hallways, nervously checking over my shoulder, but nothing felt out of place. The students were louder than usual, chatting happily, as some had finished their last exam. Others gathered books, studying along common-area tables in groups. I walked by the registrar’s offices and the cafeteria as I headed for the front doors.

There it was. The same blacked-out car, parked in the loading zone.

“Professor, great test. The study guide really helped,” Luca said, jogging over to me.

I plucked a flyer for a Christmas party off a bulletin board, and handed it to Luca. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure.” Luca was always quick to a debate, and even quicker to please those around him. I hated that it could be dangerous, but I doubted the driver would do anything to a student with a piece of paper.

“See that BMW?”

“Yeah, 7 Series. It’s sick.”

“Can you knock on the passenger window and invite them to join this party?” I pointed at the flyer in his hand.

“Uhm, friend of yours?”

“Something like that. Just don’t mention my name. If he asks, you don’t know me.”

Luca shrugged and pressed through the doors. I waited until a group of students were leaving and followed behind them, ducking low as Luca approached the car. I caught him banging on the glass, and I dodged away, racing for the staff parking lot.

By the time I was in my car, driving the opposite direction, Luca was walking from the BMW, hands up, shouting something. The car remained there, waiting for me to exit the building, and I turned my attention off the rear view mirror.

I drove, making quick work of the twenty blocks between my college and the bar, and decided to park past it, in a local auto shop’s lot. There were ten or so vehicles in various stages of body work, and no one would notice my SUV among them