Alpha Me Not (8 page)

She couldn’t quite suppress the slight wince his words engineered, and that gave him a great measure of satisfaction. “Bye then.”

Joe drove to the parking lot when she disappeared into the building, then made his way to the admissions office.

Poor Susie had no clue. She had given him his ace in the hole.

Chapter Four

Susie’s stomach was eating itself by the time she made it to the cafeteria well after two thirty that afternoon. She scanned the near-empty cavernous room and spied Charlene and her husband, Grant, sitting in the farthest corner.

Charlene waved.

Tucking the folders she’d collected from the tutoring session under one arm and adjusting the bags from her mini shopping spree, Susie ambled over to the table.

“Don’t tell me you’re only now grabbing lunch.” Charlene pulled out a chair. “Drop your stuff here and get what you can. They’re emptying all the trays.”

“Thanks.” Susie stacked the files and bags on the table and dashed over to the buffet line. Sure enough, most of the hot food was gone. All she managed to scrimmage was a bowl of lumpy baked potato soup and three packets of crackers.

Carrying her tray, Susie headed over to Charlene and Grant’s table, and settled in the lone unoccupied chair.

“Where’ve you been, stranger? We had a barbecue yesterday. I called to invite you but got voice mail.” Charlene’s contagious smile, ever eternal optimism, and Vegas showgirl figure masked a deep-seated raptor personality. Add a Mensa IQ to the mix and the total combo never failed to set Susie’s teeth on edge after five minutes in the other woman’s company.

“Long story and I have a thesis meeting with Dr. Surgue in half an hour. But I’m so glad I ran into you two. If that basement apartment is still available, I’m definitely interested.” Thank the Lord the rental apartment came with a separate entrance. But how in heck would she avoid socializing with Charlene and her cloying husband until she graduated?

Charlene and Grant exchanged a quick glance. “Oh, bummer. We rented it out a week ago. One of the reasons we threw the barbecue on Sunday was to introduce our new tenant to everyone. He’s from the UK and doesn’t know many people in the US.”

Damn the universe. She could’ve afforded the five hundred dollars rent for the basement apartment. Susie gnashed her teeth, flashed the falsest smile in the galaxy, and said, “I guess that’s what happens when you drop the baton.”

“You were a majorette?”

She gripped the fricking spoon so hard her fingertips burned. Miss Magnolia and Mint Juleps couldn’t imagine Susie in a band? Screw her for being on the mark. “No. Relay for the track team. Batons don’t only belong to drum majorettes.”

“No offense meant, sweetie. We southern women tend to lump batons, marching bands, parades, and homecoming games all into one category. Course we’ve all heard about your amazing sprinting skills. Why, Grant says you could outrun him in a heartbeat. And that takes some doing since he was the Ruffians’ wide receiver.” Charlene flashed her picture-perfect snowy smile and reached over to brush Susie’s shoulder.

She barely refrained from flinching. Susie bared another toothed grimace and tried for a rapid subject change, hoping to prevent Charlene from recounting, yet again, a blow-by-blow of Grant catching the winning pass for the national championship game. “I’m so sorry I missed the barbecue. Did you make your famous ribs?”

Charlene’s family owned The Pig and Poke chain of restaurants, and their ribs were on the superlative side. Rumor had it that their secret sauce recipe was insured for seven figures.

“You have to ask?” Grant quirked a brow. “It’d be heresy, otherwise.”

“Wait a minute. Didn’t you say you’d found a place to live? A house near the state park?” Charlene leaned forward, eyes narrowed, looking for all the world like a cat about to snare the canary. The woman hadn’t been able to conceal the insult dealt to her when Susie’d turned down the basement apartment.

Her mother’s often repeated saying of “make your words soft and sweet, ’cause you may someday have to eat them” echoed in Susie’s head. A fierce heat wave scalded her flesh. She crumbled a cracker package. “I did. It exploded yesterday.”

“Whaaat?” Charlene’s big blues couldn’t possibly get any wider. “What do you mean exploded?”

“Exploded. You know. Big bang. Blazing fire. Razed to the ground. That sort of thing.” She didn’t want to have to go through this over and over again.

Grant pulled back, pale ash eyebrows at his hairline. “Houses don’t just explode. How did this happen?”

Shrugging, she said, attempting a nonchalant tone, “This one did. The fire department hasn’t determined the cause as yet.”

“How awful, Susie. You must move in with us until you can find another place. The attic bedroom’s available until my niece comes to vacation with us in two weeks. I can’t believe you didn’t call. What else can we do to help?” Charlene brushed Susie’s knuckles. “We have a pickup. We can run you there and get your things—”

“That’s not necessary, thanks. I’ve got everything under control.” Praying the lie wasn’t obvious, Susie rushed on. “I’m staying with a neighbor until I can find another place. I rescheduled this morning’s test, and after I meet with Dr. Surgue, I’m heading over to housing to see what’s available. But thanks so much for the generous offer. It shouldn’t be too hard to find another place. Graduation’s next week, and there’ll be a ton of places up for rent.”

“I wouldn’t count on that. This is a four-college town, and while it’s Hallie U’s graduation next week, the agricultural college begins next week. You might find it harder to find another place than you think.” Grant scrubbed his smooth jaw.

Susie squished another cracker packet. Did Grant have to smile while delivering the wonderful news? “Oh, my phone burned in the fire.”

She dug in her purse, pulled out her new monthly cell, and switched it on. “I have a new number.”

Both Charlene and Grant programmed the information into their phones.

“Heck. Is it orientation this week, hon?” Grant draped an arm around his wife and jutted his chin at the cafeteria’s entrance. “Check out all those parents and their kids, touring the school, planning for the fall. Seems like we did that years ago.”

The wistful note in his growly baritone surprised Susie. Grant and Charlene had to be in their middle to late twenties, which meant they’d been freshmen only a few years back.

“Does, doesn’t it?” Charlene met her husband’s gaze. “Remember our first homecoming?”

He knuckled her cheek. “Sure do.”

Charlene laughed, and her cheeks turned a pretty pink hue. “Grant never noticed me in high school, no matter how hard I tried to get his attention. But he certainly did that first homecoming.”

“It would’ve been hard not to, babe.” Grant winked at Susie. “My wife here was the star acrobat on the cheerleading team. She broke her arm at that first game. I will never forget the team throwing her up in the air and realizing halfway through it wasn’t going to end well.”

“I beg to differ, darling. I got you that day. It ended perfectly.”

Grant kissed Charlene’s forehead. “There was a major pileup on the interstate, and it took them three hours to attend to her. She never cried. Not a single tear. The bone was sticking out of her flesh, and she’d not had even a single painkiller. She was in terrible pain and bore it like a trooper.”

“I wanted to impress him, and I guess I did.” Charlene ducked her head.

Hard to reconcile this shy, lovey-dovey Charlene with the caustic woman who relished tearing her classmates’ papers apart. Maybe she had misjudged Charlene.

“It’s a good thing I made reservations for next Friday. With all these newbies in town, every restaurant will be packed to the gills. Want to join us, Susie? We’re hosting Vance’s formal appointment as head coach at Chez Pierre’s.”

Vance Ellison, the Ruffians new football coach, had the town by the short and curlies. He’d stepped into the hallowed shoes of the former head coach, Tommy Sloan, after the man’s massive stroke last spring, and led the team to their second championship victory the past year.

Ellison had been the Ruffians’ second-string coach for decades, but most people had never heard of him, as the media limelight had always shone on Tommy Sloan. Coach Tommy, as he was affectionately known, had won more championships than any other coach in college football history. Hallowed couldn’t begin to describe how the citizens of Hallie, who treated football as religion, viewed Coach Tommy. After the Ruffians massive victory, Ellison had become the new media beacon, and the man appeared to savor the attention and adoration.

She’d met Ellison and his wife at a get-together hosted by Dr. Surgue to introduce all the new graduate students. She had asked Dr. Surgue to chair her thesis committee, and planned to broach Coach Ellison to be the sports advisor for the committee.

“Can I get back to you on that one? I’ll give you a call later in the week.”

“Sure. This isn’t a party I’d miss if I were you.” Charlene had recently finalized her thesis committee and her subject for the exam—sports nutrition.

The noise level in the cafeteria escalated as hordes poured through the main doors. The frenzied shouts, greetings, and high-pitched squeals and laughter of boisterous recent high-school graduates and proud parents echoed and bounced off the walls.

Susie watched the newcomers through a veil of wistful envy. Had she ever been that innocent? That carefree? Did it matter? She’d long ago decided what she didn’t want out of life. No one was ever going to control her or her future.

After her master’s, she hoped to land a job in a test kitchen, preferably
Cook’s Illustrated
, make the necessary contacts, and then wrangle her way into a cooking show on the Food Network or maybe the Travel Channel. She’d become a force in the industry and, more importantly, be financially independent.

“Whew. I don’t think we were ever that noisy.” Charlene scrunched her nose.

Grant rolled his eyes. “On a good day we’d have made them sound like a library. Did you know this woman can level a room with one whistle?”

Susie blinked. Charlene? Whistle? Miss Lace and Petticoats? Not in this lifetime.

“Grant. Stop spilling all my tomboy secrets.” Charlene cupped a hand over her mouth and tittered. Actually tittered.

Susie near gagged.

Gathering her purse and a binder together, Charlene stood. “We should get going. Don’t forget, Susie, if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call.”

Grant lurched to his feet, eased the chair out of his wife’s way, and gripped Charlene’s shoulders. “Hang on. Here’s the news.”

Susie followed Grant’s gaze to the large television hanging in the corner, and frowned when she read the caption rolling across the bottom of the screen. “They haven’t found him?”

Peter Flanagan, a third-grader at a local school, had gone missing three days before. Search parties had been formed, and teams of volunteers had been combing the park adjacent to the elementary school for the last couple of days.

“No. Last I heard a neighbor had seen Petey walking home from school. Barb and Kieran must be devastated.” Charlene rubbed her arms.

“You know the parents?” Susie gave up on the soup and pushed her tray to the side.

“Barb and Kieran Flanagan. Our families have been friends for generations. Barb’s younger sister and I were on the cheerleading team. We’ll have to stop by on the way home.” Charlene twined her fingers with Grant’s. “They had a hard time having Petey. He’s everything to them.”

Susie couldn’t even begin to imagine what the poor couple must be feeling. Just the notion of anything similar happening to her one-year-old niece, Jackie, was enough to make her stomach knot.

“You know who they’re going to dredge up for this, don’t you?” Grant rocked back on his heels.

“And with good reason. I can’t believe it. Talk of the devil. Look who just walked in.” Charlene tapped the binder on her thigh.

What now?
Susie scooted her chair around.

“I never thought he’d dare show his face around here again.” Charlene glared at the two men who stood in the entrance of the cafeteria.

Susie blinked. Why was Joe here? And who was he with?

“That’s a validation if there ever was one. One I aim to concur with.”

“What do you mean—a validation?” Susie twisted to face Grant.

“Dean Sam O’Reilly coming to the cafeteria with Joe Huroq.”

“Joe Huroq’s a pedophile and murderer, Grant. Don’t you dare go and speak to him.” The binder did a guitar strum on Charlene’s thigh.

All the blood in Susie’s body iced.

Pedophile.

She shuddered.

It had taken all her willpower, but she had deliberately refused to think about Joe, about last night or this morning or whenever it was, and his bald declaration about a job being hard to find with a criminal record.

Coward.

She should’ve jumped to her feet and defended him. “Wasn’t he acquitted?”

“Unfortunately. Where there’s smoke…you know the old saying.” Charlene squinted at Joe. “There was enough evidence to put him behind bars for over a year. He’d still be there if Kieran and that lowlife, Tate Gunn, hadn’t interfered.”

She’d made love to Joe.

Given him her virginity.

What kind of half-assed idiot was she anyway to listen to the vicious ramblings of Charlene Weber? Her people gut had always been reliable. Okay, okay except for Kenny Laroque. But she wasn’t wrong about Joe Huroq.

Susie’s temper flared. She dug her nails into her palms until the sting registered. “I can’t believe you actually said that, Charlene. From what I heard, DNA evidence proved Joe Huroq was innocent. DNA doesn’t lie.”

“Dean O’Reilly obviously believes him innocent.” Grant angled his head at the older man following Joe in the buffet line. “That’s quite an endorsement.”

“Here’s another.” Susie crumpled her napkin and tossed it on the table. “He’s the neighbor I’m staying with.”

“No.” Charlene rounded on her. “You can’t stay with him. I won’t let you.”

Right then Joe glanced their way.

His and Susie’s gaze locked for a second.