She turned from the class and got her briefcase out, pulling papers and a tablet from it. Declan looked at Alli, raised his eyebrows, and got a shrug in response. Shrugging back, he pulled his copy of the book from his bag and set about reading.

In front of him, the pissed-off girl pulled out the campus newspaper and started reading it again. He waited for the inevitable. It came soon enough.

“You’re the kid in the article?” Pissy asked. “You’re this O’Carroll kid who works for Demidova?”

With a sigh, he put a blank index card in place as a marker and closed the book. Looking up at the girl, he met disbelief. As he opened his mouth to answer, another, louder voice from down front called out, “Declan O’Carroll?” It was Professor Lilt.

Giving the girl a smile at his reprieve, he stood up and walked down the rows to the substitute professor who watched him with interested eyes. “I’m Declan, Professor,” he said.

Her eyebrows raised a little. “Cavanaugh left me some notes on you. Says you’re some kind of special case, only here to audit, exempted from papers and tests?”

“I have a special relationship with the school and my educational needs are extremely unique,” he said carefully.

“On account of you working for Chris Gordon and Tatiana Demidova, who give ungodly amounts of money to this place,” Lilt stated.

“Pretty much. And I do take tests and write papers, but only if I’m staying in the class. If I can’t find good reason for the course, I move to another class.”

“That’s a damned fine gig you got going there,” she said. He couldn’t tell if she was admiring it or mocking it.

“Yeah, doesn’t fit the traditional academic set of values,” he said, testing the waters.

Her eyebrows went back up again. “Wow, you were paying attention. So you hanging with this class or are you out of here?”

“Oh, I think I’m staying. This material is right in my wheelhouse.”

“Good. So I’ll expect a paper at least out of you,” she said.

“At least,” he agreed, thinking her odd, but interesting. He felt a prodding little feeling in the back of his mind but he ignored it because there was nothing threatening about her, except maybe the smell of mothballs.

Chapter 3

The dentist office was now a hub of organized and frenetic activity. Five BPD patrol cars, a Vermont State Police Mobile Crime Unit van, and at least three unmarked cars occupied the street out front and the parking lot behind.

Inside, seasoned law enforcement officers studied the explosion of violence with shocked eyes and stunned expressions. The blood spatters were layered on top of each other, four or five thick, and very few surfaces remained clear of bodily fluids and soft tissues.