“Yes, ma’am.” The student’s blond head hung with a mixture of hope and precious shame. Limpid blue eyes filled as if on cue. “If I do well in your course, I can make the dean’s list and then my daddy will let me go to Greece for the summer with Pi Gamma Delta, if I make the house, and if I make it and I can’t go then I’ll be the only one and I’ll just die, Dr. Abbott, I’ll just die!”

Casting the specter of imminent demise did nothing to move Erin, but she appreciated the attempt. Summoning up her most stern look, Erin responded, “Ms. Turner, I just announced that the papers aren’t due until the end of the exam period. Were you not paying attention?”

“I tried, but Reggie Clark was talking to me about a party tonight and wouldn’t shut up. I don’t know why I ever listen to him, because it’s not as though he really knows anything except football!”

Coy crossness raised the high-pitched voice a notch, and Erin resisted the urge to wince. “Perhaps when a teacher is speaking, you should work on listening?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Harmony beamed, showing the results of braces no doubt paid for by the daddy who’d be flying her to Athens in a month. “I’ll send you a postcard from Greece!”

The bubbly student turned on fashionably nonfunctional heels and hurried to join her friends in the corridor heading off to class. Classroom empty, Erin packed her notes away and checked the room for stray students or papers. Experience had taught her to be diligent about cleanliness, to leave no trace behind.

Somewhere along the way, she’d failed. The note to Analise said so. Someone knew her secrets, perhaps even her darkest one. Run, a shrill voice in her head urged, as it had last night. Right now, pack your bags and go.

But she’d sworn never to run again.

Still, bravery didn’t mean stupidity, she’d decided. Which was why she wanted to head to the police station before she lost her nerve and gave in to the panic. She needed to check in with her teaching assistant and grab her grade book, then she’d be on her way. Taking a deep breath, Erin hoisted the bag laden with exams and slung the leather strap high over the thick padding at her shoulder. As soon as she left the air-conditioned confines of the psychology building, sweat would bead on her brow and pool beneath the suffocating tweed. In anticipation, she tugged at the collar with dread but didn’t slip the heavy fabric off.

The shapeless, matronly jacket with its silk liner and myriad buttons mocked her attempts. Sometimes she longed to peel away the layers she shrouded herself in and race through the halls naked.

Well, maybe not naked, she corrected. But cotton would certainly be an improvement.