“You’ll tell them your opinion,” Jake said.

Glaring now, Sinclair shot back, “The truth.”

Tomlinson sucked in a deep breath, then put his smile back on. “Well, Professor, I want to thank you for taking the time to talk with me.”

A little more gently, Sinclair said, “I’m sorry we don’t see eye to eye on this.”

“I am, too.” Tomlinson offered his hand, Sinclair shook it limply, and then the professor headed for the door with Perez trailing behind him.

As the door closed, Tomlinson slugged down the remainder of his scotch and headed for the bar. Amy was already pouring him another.

Still standing in the middle of the room, Jake said, “That didn’t go very well, did it?”

“Not hardly,” said Tomlinson.

But Amy said, “Sinclair’s hiding something.”

“You think so?”

Handing Tomlinson his refill, she said, “It just doesn’t make sense. Here you’re offering him the chance to expand his program, to get to where he wants to go, to make MHD a success, and he’s turning you down.”

Jake went to the bar and reached for the fifth of Jack Daniel’s. “He’s an academic. He doesn’t want a big, high-powered program. He’s afraid he’ll lose control.”

Amy shook her head. “There’s something more. He’s hiding something, I’m absolutely sure of it.”

“What could it be?” Tomlinson asked.

“Something about his son?” Jake guessed.

“Whatever it is,” Amy said, “Leeds knows about it and is using it to keep Sinclair in his camp.”

“And if we could find out what it is,” Tomlinson said, his eyes narrowing, “we might be able to swing Sinclair over to our side.”

“Or neutralize him, at least,” said Amy. “Pull his fangs.”

Tomlinson turned and laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Jake, you’re our man on campus. We need you to ferret out Sinclair’s secret.”

Jake started to refuse, but then he thought, Ferret out Sinclair’s secret. Yeah, the sonofabitch must be hiding something. I’ll bet Mrs. Cee isn’t the only forbidden fruit he’s chased after.

Forbidden Fruit

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Jake went home alone and that night he dreamed of Louise again. Nothing erotic. Nothing sad or remorseful. They were at home, in the house they had built together, getting ready to go out somewhere. Jake was putting on a sports coat and Louise had just stepped into the front hallway, beaming her radiant smile, happy, eyes sparkling, alive.

Jake woke up and turned toward her. The bed was empty; he was alone. He sat up and squinted at the red numerals of the digital clock on the dresser: 4:44. That must mean something, he thought. Yeah. It means it’s sixteen minutes before five A.M.