50. Daisy
Chapter 50
Daisy
I was sore the next morning when we took an Uber to the Wharton campus.
Or more specifically, my ass was sore.
I hadn’t cared at all about the size of Jace’s huge pierced dick when we’d been in the limo, but today it was abundantly clear that I’d pushed the envelope.
Which was a-okay with me, sore ass and all.
Because our fuck-fest in the limo had been mind-blowing, but even more than that, it had been healing. Or maybe it was Wolf’s apology after, said with so much tenderness, and the way Jace had pulled me into his arms in the back of the limo, Wolf and Otis surrounding me, all of them murmuring words of regret and reassurances.
Either way, I felt good — in spite of my sore ass — when we got out of the Uber at UPenn, the campus that hosted the Wharton School. It was a perfect fall day, the early November air crisp, the leaves a riot of color on the picturesque college campus. It would be Thanksgiving soon, and I knew for sure now that I wouldn’t be spending it at my dad’s house.
The Beasts were my family too. I didn’t know what I would do long-term, but I knew I wanted to spend every second with them in the meantime.
Wolf looked at his phone and started down one of the brick-lined walkways. “This way.”
I was surprised to feel Jace take my hand. He didn’t seem like the hand-holding type, but it felt good to feel his fingers wrapped around mine, like we might have been just another couple on campus, walking to the dining hall or to class.
It made me sad in a way. I’d had every opportunity to choose my own way. There had been — and still was — pressure from my dad, but I’d had security and privilege, possibilities in every direction.
Jace had been at a disadvantage from the beginning: orphaned, raised on the Blades compound by Mac with no real chance for another life. Maybe he would have chosen the same one, but maybe not. Maybe he would have chosen something else for himself, college and work he loved. Maybe he would have had a preppy girlfriend at university, one he would have taken home to meet his parents in the suburbs.
We’d never know. He’d never know.
That seemed like a shame, even though I was also selfishly grateful for the way things had played out. Our shared circumstances had brought us together and I was glad for that, even if it was all kinds of messed up right now.
“It’s this one,” Wolf said, starting toward one of the brick buildings. “Professor Alvarez’s class should be ending in about ten minutes.”
We entered the building through a set of double glass doors and stepped into a tiled vestibule. A hall stretched ahead, the sound of a woman’s voice speaking from beyond one of the lecture doors. To the right, a staircase led to the second floor.
Everything was way nicer than it had been at the community college I’d attended, which was to be expected, I guess. UPenn was an Ivy and Wharton was a prestigious business school. I wondered again how Michael White had gotten from the Blackwell Home for Boys to an Ivy League school while Mac had stayed in Blackwell Falls.
Had it been because of my mom? Had Mac stayed in the hopes that she’d come back after college, change her mind about marrying a rich guy and settling down to sit on charitable committees and play tennis at the country club?
“Should be on the second floor,” Wolf said, starting up the staircase.
Otis and Jace were silent, and I wondered if they were thinking about all the maybes too, if they were traveling the roads of their lives not lived, if they had any regrets.
I would try to remind them that it wasn’t too late. They had criminal records, but they could chart their own course from here on out. I’d be devastated if it took them away from me, but they’d saved my life by stepping between Blake and me, and I loved them enough to let them go if that was what it took for them to be happy.
A stream of students met us at the top of the stairs, all streaming from the door of one room halfway down the hall.
“Professor Alvarez must have let his class out early,” Otis said, walking quickly toward the open door of the classroom.
We got there just as an old man in a sport coat and slacks, an old-fashioned briefcase in one hand, was shutting the door. He had a full head of silver hair and wore the kind of loafers that were probably handed out to every professor when they were hired to teach at a college.
“Professor Alvarez?” Wolf asked.
The man turned and started walking. Between his classes and his position overseeing the law review, it was probably a daily occurrence for him to be accosted by students in the hallway.
"Office hours are Tuesday and Thursday from three to five,” he said.
“We’re not here for office hours,” Wolf said.
He took another look at us, his brown eyes sharp behind the metal frames of his glasses, then started for the stairs. “I have another class. You’ll have to walk with me.”
We started walking, hustling to keep up with his surprisingly brisk pace.
“We were wondering if we could ask you a question about a former pupil,” Wolf said. “Or maybe not a pupil, but someone who worked with you on the law review.”
“References are handled through the online portal,” he said, making his way lightly down the stairs.
“This isn’t about a reference,” I said, hoping to slow him down just a little. At the rate we were going he would reach his next class before we’d even asked our questions. “It’s about Michael White.”
I thought I caught the slightest halt in his step in the moment before he pushed through the glass doors.
“I don’t discuss former students.”
We continued down the stairs. “I know this is irregular, but… please.” I sounded as desperate as I felt, spinning through the pieces of our puzzle in my mind, trying to find something that might make the professor relent. “He knew my mom before she died.”
The words didn’t make him stop, but they did make him slow down, his brow furrowing as he turned to look at me. “Here at UPenn?”
I shook my head. “In high school.”
He inhaled. “Like I said, I don’t usually talk about former students.”
“I understand that,” I said. “And I respect it. It’s just that…”
“Some weird things are happening in White’s hometown.” I gaped at Jace, who’d finally spoken up with a zinger that almost stopped Professor Alvarez in his tracks.
“What kinds of weird things?” Professor Alvarez asked, pinning Jace with his shrewd gaze.
“Missing people,” Jace said.
I was still staring at Jace. We hadn’t talked about tying Michael White to the missing girls. But then I realized he might not be tying Michael White to the missing girls at all, or not to them alone anyway.
He may have been talking about his father.
Derrick Mayer said Michael had been tight with Arlo. Maybe Michael knew what had happened to Jace’s dad.
“I don’t like talking about this,” the professor said.
I was so surprised I almost stopped walking. because Professor Alvarez didn’t sound confused like I’d expected. Not I don’t know what you’re talking about or What could Michael White have to do with missing people?
I don’t like talking about this .
“Please,” I said, touching his arm. “Just… please.”
He looked into my eyes and finally — finally — stopped walking under a row of trees on either side of the path between buildings. The dappled shade cast strange shadows on his face.
“I asked Michael to leave the law review after an incident with one of my other students,” Professor Alvarez finally said.
“What kind of incident?” Otis asked.
“There was an assault complaint. From a female student against Michael White.”
“And that’s why you asked him to leave?” Wolf asked.
The professor’s face fell. “It was a different time…”
“What happened?” I asked.
He shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other. “There was an attempt at mediation through the administrative complaint process. No evidence of the assault was found.”
I swallowed my disgust. I’d heard stories about how hard it was to prosecute sexual assault claims on college campuses. I could only imagine how hard it had been thirty years ago.
“Then why did you ask him to leave?”
“Because the young woman in question, the one who’d filed the complaint, went missing shortly thereafter.”
I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach, the world receding around me as my ears buzzed.
“You’re saying the same girl who accused Michael White of sexual assault went missing after she filed the complaint?” Otis asked.
Professor Alvarez nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. There was no evidence that it was Michael — he was one of several people who were questioned — but it made the other students on the review uncomfortable. We work long hours, often late into the night. That kind of atmosphere wasn’t good for the paper. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do have to get to class.”
I was frozen in place, standing in the shaded walkway as he moved away from us.
“Wait!” I called out. Professor Alvarez turned around. “What happened to him? After he graduated, I mean.”
Maybe Professor Alvarez had been contacted for a reference by some big law firm that would keep the trail hot on Michael White.
“I have no idea,” the professor said. “He graduated, I gave him a boilerplate reference for the MBA program at Boston University. Never heard from him again.”
He turned away again, this time moving away from us quickly, like he couldn’t get away from us fast enough.