Chapter 42
Any notion Ivy might have had of her colleagues and the students not seeing the TikTok of the Bae-sian Prof were dashed the moment she parked outside Fine Hall. Three separate groups of people—one of which she recognized as faculty—started shooting glances her way and chatting amongst themselves.
High school shit. Whispering into their hands.
Ivy refused to let this get her down. She felt oddly refreshed. If anything, the terrifying events of the night prior should have only added to her anxiety. Maybe it was the two beers that she’d had with Vaughn that had calmed her. Maybe she was just getting used to being around death.
Can it happen that quickly? Can one become jaded to murder after witnessing just two crime scenes?
A ridiculous thought, but regardless, she’d slept well.
She’d also predicted that something like this might happen—the gossip about the TikTok video—so Ivy had decided to arrive just before class started to avoid any awkward encounters.
Tristan was holding the door open for her.
“Got the phones today?” she said.
Tristan raised a bag.
“Yep.”
“Good.”
Ivy entered the class. Saw the students’ smirks. Ignored them. She didn’t notice Zeke—his usual seat was empty—and this lifted her mood even more.
“Alright class, before we start . . .” Murmurs, a smattering of chuckles. “Yeah, exactly. Let’s get this out of the way. Go on, laugh. I’ll wait.”
Some did, most remained silent.
“Good. It looks like everyone has seen the TikTok video. Not much to say about it—I just hope that you learned something yesterday. And sorry to disappoint, but today we go back to our regular scheduled programming.”
This was met by a chorus of boos, and Ivy couldn’t help but grin. Just a little.
“Now that we got that out of the way, today’s lesson is on Monte Carlo simulations. And before you ask, no, I won’t be talking about casinos or gambling. Monte Carlo simulation is used to predict outcomes from uncertain events.”
The lecture went well. The students were looser than usual. More engaged, even though Ivy stayed far from any taboo subject matter. She wrapped up the lesson, saved her digital scribblings as the students collected their phones from Tristan.
“Dr. Reeves?”
Ivy raised her head from the lectern.
“Rebecca, how can I help you?”
“I—”
“Dr. Reeves? I have to get to my own class.”
Ivy turned to Tristan.
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll meet you in my office later.” Ivy waited for Tristan to pack up his computer and leave before addressing Rebecca again. “You wanted—Rebecca? What’s wrong?” The woman was crying. “Rebecca?”
Ivy reached out and gently stroked the back of her arm.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffed, wiped her face. “It’s just . . . it’s Zeke.”
Ivy tensed, let her hand fall.
“What about him?”
“I know he’s—well, his dad is like this big shot. But it’s just—”
“Rebecca, what did he do?”
Ivy’s eyes narrowed as she pictured Zeke at the bar, yelling in her face.
Do you know who my father is?
“He said that if I told anyone, he’d get his dad to talk to the department. Get my scholarship revoked. I can’t—I can’t lose my scholarship.”
Rebecca’s gaze was locked on the floor. Tears streamed from her green eyes.
“That’s not going to happen. If he did something to you, you need to tell me.”
“But—”
“No, stop that.” The words came out a little more sternly than Ivy had intended. “You need to tell me what he did. I’ll go to bat for you with Dr. Moorehead. You’re a smart kid, a pleasure to have in class. Zeke is . . .” Ivy trailed off.
Rebecca wiped her face again. Now, she looked skyward. Exhaled loudly.
“I was leaving yesterday afternoon, and he came up to me. Got in my face. Y-yelled at me, said I told on him for cheating. B-but I didn’t say anything. I just want to do my work.”
Ivy nodded, waited for the fear-stricken girl to continue.
“Then he . . . he grabbed me.”
Ivy was taken aback.
“He grabbed you? Where?”
Rebecca was wearing a rust-colored sweater, loose, and she began teasing up her right sleeve.
“I told him to let go, then that’s when he said that stuff about his dad. Said that if I ever said anything about him cheating again, he’d ruin me. His . . . his eyes. I was so scared.”
Rebecca’s sleeve was up now past her bicep, and Ivy inhaled sharply. There were deep red marks on her pale skin, four of them. Circular. Half crescents outlined in purple.
“Jesus. He did that to you?”
Rebecca nodded.
“He grabbed me,” she repeated. “Squeezed hard.”
“Hold on—keep your sleeve like that.”
Ivy snapped a photo with her phone. Asked Rebecca to supinate her hand. There was a mark on the inside from Zeke’s thumb. She took another photo.
“You can put it down now.”
Rebecca did.
“I didn’t even want to come in today, I was so scared. Waited in the hall for everyone to pass. Only entered when I didn’t see Zeke. I’m scared, Dr. Reeves. Scared that if he knows I talked to you, he’s going to do something. Something worse.”
Ivy had felt the same fear when Zeke came up to her at the bar. She suspected that he was capable of violence then but didn’t want to believe it. The bruises on Rebecca’s arm left no doubt.
“You did the right thing coming to me. I’m going to speak with Dr. Moorehead, okay? You should go to the police. Tell them what he did to you.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened.
“No—I can’t. I do that, and he’s going to know. He’ll know.”
“You have to.”
“I can’t! I thought—I thought you’d understand.”
This made no sense to Ivy, but she understood the woman’s intense reaction. Knew what it was like to be completely overwhelmed by fear. It had happened to her at the fire.
She’d barely made it out alive.
“Rebecca, I want you to listen to me.”
“My scholarship, I—”
“Rebecca! Listen to me. I want you to go home, okay?”
“I have class, I need—”
“Go home. Take the rest of the day off. If any of your other professors give you any trouble, tell them to call me. In fact, you have your cell?”
Rebecca must have gotten it from Tristan already because she took it out.
“Good. Put my number in.” Rebecca did. “If you see Zeke again, anywhere, even if he doesn’t say anything to you, I want you to call me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Did you drive here?”
Nod.
“I’m going to walk you to your car.”
Rebecca must have arrived early, sat in her car debating whether or not to go to class, because her old Hyundai was parked in one of the closest spaces to the front of the building.
“Ice those bruises. I’m going get this sorted for you. Zeke won’t hurt you again.”
Ivy waited for Rebecca to drive off before storming back inside.
Fuck you, Zeke. You and your father.