Chapter 14
Fourteen
Ellie
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” Matt says. He walks at my side, his shoulder brushing mine every few steps as
we approach the shoreline of the lake in Central Park. We’re only a few hundred yards from the busy city sidewalks, but it
feels like a world away.
I lean in a little too close to him, smiling when he looks down at me. “I’m always up for a walk in the park with you.”
“It’s been a rough day—I had to kick a student out of my lecture for being disruptive. She kept accusing someone in the department
of . . .” he trails off, as if thinking of his next words carefully. “Well, it doesn’t matter.” I remain quiet, hoping he’ll
reveal more. “It’s always hard when a student isn’t fully applying themselves, but come on, it’s Columbia fucking University. Show up or go home, ya know?”
“Have you had to remove someone before?”
“A few times. And then I get calls from the parents and inevitably have to meet with administration. It’s not a light decision
but sometimes a necessary one.”
I place an open palm on his shoulder and rub at the tension that’s visibly overtaken him.
“Hey,” he says, catching my hand and threading our fingers together, “what do you say we grab some takeout and go back to
my place? I have a great view of the park from my apartment.”
“Okay,” I smile, always eager to please. I wonder briefly how a professor at Columbia can afford an apartment with a view
of the park, but I don’t ask questions. The email from The Society instructed me to arrange a more intimate date and this
feels like the perfect opportunity. He’ll be more comfortable on his own turf—maybe I can get him to open up and reveal something
that I can bring to Kat.
Matt pulls out his phone, taking a few moments to order a selection of food from his favorite Indian restaurant before we
walk in the direction of the Upper East Side. I’m eager to see his place and find out a little more about him. Butterflies
fill my chest as we near 5th Avenue—as soon as we exit the park together this thing between us becomes something else. Another
layer of intimacy that can’t be taken back. I’m not sure I’m ready for what might come next, but then, going back to my dull
life before The Society feels unthinkable too.
Fifteen minutes later we reach his building just in time to meet the delivery guy with our food. I take a few deep breaths
as we ascend in the elevator, nerves pummeling my system as we walk down the hallway with the scent of tikka masala in the
air. I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat as Matt punches in the passcode and the door to his apartment swings open.
“Don’t be nervous.” He chuckles as he sets the bag of takeout down on the kitchen counter.
“Is it that obvious?” I sit on the barstool at the marble kitchen island, working my hands back and forth as he takes down
plates from the cupboard.
“You don’t have a very good poker face.” He grins, then twists the cork from a bottle of red wine. He fills two stemless glasses, then pushes one to me before opening the containers of food.
“How was your day today?” he finally asks as he sits down beside me.
“It was okay—I thought about taking a spa day, but the more I relax and unwind the less I want to go back to work,” I admit.
He nods, “I hear that. Even on the weekends I’m always reading essays or working on lesson plans. Everyone thinks being tenured
is an easy ride, but the pressure is a lot sometimes.”
I shift on my barstool as I think how his tenured position has protected him from prosecution for his crimes, but I can’t
dwell on that fact. I need a clear head if I’m going to make this man pay.
“Do you ever get away from the city for the weekend?” I take a sip of my wine, enjoying the way it warms my system almost
instantly.
“Why?” he asks as he spoons food onto our plates.
I shrug. “To decompress, I guess.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head, then dips a chunk of naan bread into the garlic hummus. “Don’t know what I’d do with myself. Relax
by a pool? What’s that?”
I smile, feeling a little more at ease with each passing moment. I understand why women are drawn to him. While our first
meeting felt intense, seeing him in his own space is comforting. “Your apartment is beautiful.”
He chews and nods. “Thanks. I bought it after I negotiated a bonus when I was offered a tenured position. Best investment I’ve made so far, financially and for my mental health. It’s a bit of a hike from campus but I don’t mind—the view alone is worth it.”
I follow his gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Central Park. Lush green leaves stretch to the north and south,
and the Dakota building stands anchored at the opposite edge of the park. It’s breathtaking. A thrill of pleasure runs through
me at the thought of coming home to this view every day.
“You’re a lucky man,” I finally say.
“You’ll get no argument from me on that point.” We eat in silence for a few moments. My stomach is churning with anxiety—I
have to find a way to get this man to open up a little more somehow. It’s not like I can snoop around his apartment in search
of some sort of evidence of his crimes.
“Do you want to watch a movie maybe?” he finally asks.
“Okay,” I say, feeling like our chemistry is losing steam. We only had our first date last night. It’s been less than twenty-four
hours since we last saw each other—maybe I should have made him wait a bit longer to see me again. But I felt the pressure
from The Society, so when Matt reached out and asked for an impromptu walk, I went for it. It’s not like Jack will miss me
at home anyway.
Fifteen minutes later we’ve finished eating, have packed away what’s left of the food, and are nestled on the cream leather
sofa together. I wonder again how a professor can afford a luxury apartment like this, bonus or no—polished wood floors, cathedral
ceilings, crown molding, and modern furnishings dominate the space—but I don’t ask.
Just when I’m thinking this second date of ours is going nowhere, his hand finds my upper thigh and he gives it a tender squeeze.
“I really like having you here.”
“I like being here,” I confess.
He smiles back at me sweetly and a pang of guilt cuts through me. Can I really unravel all that this man has worked for? I muster a smile and then look away, his intense gaze weighing heavy on my thoughts.
“I really enjoy spending time with you,” he says. “I know it’s a little soon, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day
today.” His hand travels up my arm and he leans in, his eyes focused on my lips. This is it. My heart hammers wildly.
“I . . . I need to use the bathroom,” I blurt out.
“Sure,” he says, smiling. “Down the hallway to the left.” He taps my knee before I stand. “I’m gonna run the garbage down
to the trash shoot—I can’t stand having empty takeout containers in the house.”
I nod and smile. I take my time moving down the hallway as my thoughts race. I pass Matt’s home office on the right and then
find the bathroom on the left. I step in, standing at the door but not closing it all the way, wishing I’d thought to bring
my phone with me so I could text Aubrey quick and ask what I should do next. I hear the door to the apartment thud closed
and then, like a lightning bolt, an idea occurs to me. Without thinking twice, I leave the bathroom and cross the hall to
the office. Everything looks orderly and neat, no stray papers or files, but my eyes land on a short filing cabinet in the
corner. I cross the room and try the top drawer. Stacks of what look like student essays greet me. I groan, thinking I only
have a minute or two before Matt is back.
I open the next drawer and find rows of manila files labeled with words like insurance, retirement, taxes, and miscellaneous.
I snatch that last one and flip through it quickly, finding what looks like contracts and other legal forms related to Matt’s work at Columbia.
I groan—but then a check stub falls out.
My heart clatters as I pick it up and flip it over to find the name Savannah Walker printed in the to line.
Ten thousand dollars is scribbled in black ink in the amount section. My heart drops.
And then I hear the thud of the front door closing.
I nearly lose my stomach as I stand, tucking the check stub into my bra and then replacing the file and closing the drawer.
I’m not sure what I’ve just found, but it feels like something. There’s only one reason a professor would write a check to
a student and it can’t be good. I wait a long moment as I listen to Matt move around the apartment. When he falls silent,
I take that moment to peek around the doorjamb. The coast is clear, so I leave the office and cross quickly into the bathroom.
I flush the toilet, flip the faucet on and wash my hands, and then leave the bathroom as nonchalantly as I can. When I return
to the living room, Matt is sitting on the sofa facing the giant picture windows with the view of the park. Like a king looking
out over his kingdom.
I settle beside him, leaving a little distance between us.
He closes the gap quickly, his smile soft and warm as he places his hand on my thigh again.
“Are you liking the movie?” he finally asks.
“It’s okay,” I say, thinking I haven’t even been paying enough attention to remember what it is we’re watching. Some geopolitical
thriller with Ben Affleck.
“Thrillers not your thing?” he ventures.
I shake my head, unable to form words as I think about Savannah’s name written on that check stub.
I’m about to stand and tell him it’s time for me to be going when Matt turns to me, sliding a palm up to my neck and pulling me to him for a soft kiss.
I submit to him easily, our lips moving together in a tender moment before his hands trail down to my waist, thumbs grazing the underside of my breasts.
He tries to pull me into his lap but I resist before pulling away and smiling softly.
“I’m sorry, I . . . I’m just not ready. I like spending time with you but I’d like to take things slow. ”
Disappointment darkens his eyes before his jaw tightens. “If you’re not ready, why did you wear that tight dress yesterday
that left nothing to the imagination? You all about the tease?”
Nerves tighten in my throat and prevent words from escaping. I shake my head, unable to say anything. “Why did you agree to
come to my apartment if you didn’t want to fuck me?”
“I—I—” I don’t know what to say, so I scoot away and stand, but he grips my wrist and pulls me back on the sofa with him.
“Come on, El—don’t be a dick tease.”
“I’m not—I just—” I try to yank my wrist away but his grip tightens. “Let me go.”
His eyes flare, jaw flexing before he moves quickly, pushing me down onto the couch and crawling on top of me. Tears burn
my eyelids as I try to push his broad chest away. I’m helpless. This is what I get for going on a date with a rapist, I think.
“Please, stop,” I beg, pounding at his chest with my fists. He stops me, clutching both my wrists in one hand and hauling
them over my head before he grinds his hips into my pelvis. It hurts, and the way he has me pinned is terrifying. “Stop it,
please, please, don’t do this.”
He presses his lips against mine to shut me up and I bite his bottom lip as hard as I can.
I taste blood instantly and he pulls away, dropping my wrists to press a thumb to his lip.
I take the moment of distraction to push and kick and thrash my way out from under him.
I fall to the floor and scramble to my feet, launching myself across the room and toppling the coffee table as I do.
He trips over it and falls to the floor before grasping for my foot.
I lunge for the front door, yanking it open and running down the hallway screaming for help at the top of my lungs.
When I reach the stairwell I turn to find the hallway empty.
His door is closed—no sign of the monster who was chasing me just a moment ago.
Barefoot and shaking, I make my way down the stairs quickly. By the time I burst out into the lobby, I realize I must look
unhinged—I’m barefoot and my hair is disheveled. Thankfully, the lobby is empty. I push open the doors of the building and
suck in a deep breath. A cab is arriving at that moment. An older couple climbs out of the back, and I crawl in. “Columbus
Circle, please.”
The taxi driver looks me up and down a moment but doesn’t say anything, just nods and then takes off from the curb.
The tears I’d been stuffing down finally fall in salty streaks down my cheeks. I narrowly avoided a sexual assault—I put myself
in the same position Savannah was in, only she ultimately didn’t make it out alive. I take a deep breath as I realize that
whatever I just narrowly escaped was worth it if I can play a part in getting justice for the women who didn’t make it out.
If I can ensure he never does this to another woman again.
I just need to get home and send an email to The Society and tell them what I found: proof that this man is the monster Savannah
said he was. I just hope it’s enough.
My phone buzzes then and I pull it out of my pocket and glance at the screen.
Fucking bitch.
It’s Matt. I open the message and then block him with a smile. He hasn’t seen the worst of me yet.