Chapter Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
OR, AT LEAST, that’s how Bellamy envisioned it happening.
Once she had escaped, he searched for her all over his house. Frantically he drove the neighborhood but found nothing. Each day after the disappearance, he waited with bated breath for the police to knock on his door. But after her body was found and an inside source told him the university wanted to sweep all of this under the rug, he felt himself scot-free. Sure, the university had suspected his involvement so they would make a big fuss about his research. Made a show of disciplining him for his unorthodox research, but he knew how the politics of a university worked. They make a spectacle of him, freeze his funding, and then forget about him entirely, allowing him to return to his true research.
Now as he watched, Ethan and Jason, he noted the tension rising between them. He watched as Jason stood abruptly from the diner booth, cradling his arm.
“A lover’s quarrel?” Bellamy said, lighting another cigarette.
He watched as Jason grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the diner. The bell jingled harshly. He glanced back at Ethan through the window, who remained sitting the picture of fragile defeat.
Bellamy watched as Jason emerged from the diner, his jaw tight, his hands shoved into the pockets of his winter coat. The wind was whipping up, his auburn hair, tousled in the cold breeze. Bellamy leaned forward his eyes darting between Jason just outside the diner door and Ethan who remained seated in the booth. He watched as Jason stepped forward into the night, his tall frame lit briefly by the passing headlights of a campus shuttle. Then, as if darkness itself swallowed him, Jason disappeared.
Bellamy blinked, stunned. He couldn’t believe his luck, he scanned the street expecting Jason to reappear, but the boy was gone. A slow grin crept across his face, his mind racing.
He turned his attention back to Ethan, who now stood from the table, helping the waitress gather dishes from the table.
Then it dawned on Bellamy, synapses fired off in his brain.
Reaching for his phone, his fingers trembled slightly at his most brilliant thought all night. He dialed a number, the line clicked, then after a few rings — a gruff voice came on the line.
“Dr. Bellamy,” the voice responded skeptically.
“Colonel,” Bellamy replied, smoothly. “It’s been a long time.”
“The last I heard, you were teaching at some second-rate university out West.”
Bellamy smirked, resting the phone between his ear and shoulder, “Summit State University, actually but that’s not why I called. I’ve got a proposition for you. Something from our old days. Something we only ever thought was a myth.”
Bellamy reached over to his glovebox, opening it. His hand reached in, grabbing a small dark brown weathered leather holster, holding a snub nose revolver. He slipped the holster into his coat pocket.
The colonel’s tone softened, “I’m listening.”