Lost Souls. Lisa Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ dropped out, changed colleges, or took off on ski vacations or to rock concerts without telling anyone. For that matter she could have eloped.

      But maybe not. He’d worked at the crime lab in New Orleans long enough to have a bad feeling about this student he’d never met. He took another swallow of beer and read lower on the roster.

      Arnette, Jordan.

      Bailey, Wister.

      Braddock, Ira.

      Bentz, Kristi.

      Calloway, Hiram.

      Crenshaw, Geoffrey.

      Wait! What?

      Bentz, Kristi?

      His eyes narrowed on the screen, zeroing in on the familiar name that still had an impact that sent his blood pressure soaring.

      No way! She was haunting his thoughts!

      Kristi Bentz couldn’t be in his class! Could not! What kind of cruel twist of fate or irony would that be? But there her name was, big as life. He wasn’t foolish enough to think it might be another student with the same name. He had to face the fact that for three hours each week on Monday nights, he’d see her again.

      Crap!

      The rain pummeled the windows and he stared at the class roster as if mesmerized. Images of Kristi flitted through his mind: Long hair flying as she ran from him through a forest, the play of shadowy light catching her through the canopy of branches, her laughter infectious; emerging from a swimming pool, water dripping from her toned body, her smile triumphant if she’d won the meet, her frown deep and impenetrable if she’d lost; lying beneath him on a blanket in the back of his truck, moonlight shimmering against her perfect body.

      “Stop it!” he said out loud, and Bruno, ever vigilant, was on his feet in an instant, barking gruffly. “No, boy, it’s…it’s nothing.” Jay promptly shut out the stupid, visceral images of his horny youth. He hadn’t seen Kristi in over five years and he figured she’d changed. And for all his romantic fantasies about her, there were other images that weren’t quite as nice. Kristi had a temper and a razor sharp tongue.

      He’d figured long ago that he was well rid of her.

      But the truth was, he’d read and heard about her brushes with death, about her dealings with madmen, about her long stint in the hospital recovering from the latest attack, and he’d felt bad, even going so far as to call a florist to send her flowers before changing his mind. Kristi was like a bad habit, one a man couldn’t quite shake. Jay was fine as long as he didn’t hear about her, read about her, or see her. All those old emotions were locked away under carefully guarded keys. He’d been interested in other women. He’d been engaged, hadn’t he? Still, having to see her on a weekly basis…

      It would probably be good for him, he decided suddenly. “Character building” as his mother used to say whenever he was in trouble and had to pay the price of punishment, usually at the hands of his father.

      “Hell,” he muttered under his breath as the truth of the matter sank in. His jaw slid to one side and for a second he let himself fantasize about teaching a class where Kristi was his student, where she would have to be under his scrutiny, his control. Jesus! What was he thinking? He’d decided long ago that never seeing her again was just fine. Now it looked like he’d be staring at her face for three hours once a week.

      Draining his beer, he slammed the empty bottle onto his desk. He hadn’t altered his whole damned work schedule, started working ten-hour shifts, gone through the headache of changing his whole life only to have to see Kristi every week. His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

      Maybe she’d drop his class. The second she realized he was stepping in for Dr. Monroe, Kristi would probably alter her schedule. No doubt she didn’t want to see him any more than he wanted to deal with her. And the thought that he would be her teacher would probably really bug her. She’d resign from his class. Of course she would.

      Good.

      He read the rest of the class list of thirty-five students interested in criminology—make that thirty-four. His gaze drifted back to the first name on the list: Rylee Ames. Disturbed, Jay scratched at the stubble on his chin.

      What the hell had happened to her?

      CHAPTER 2

      “…No loud music, no pets, no smoking, it’s all here in the lease,” Irene Calloway said, though she herself smelled suspiciously of cigarette smoke. In her early seventies with a few short wisps of gray hair poking from under a red beret, Irene was as thin as a rail beneath her faded baggy jeans and oversized T-shirt. Her jacket was a man’s flannel shirt and she peered at Kristi through thick glasses. She and Kristi were seated at a small scarred table in the furnished studio apartment on the third floor. The place had a bit of charm with its dormers, old fireplace, plank floors, and watery glass windows. It was cozy and quiet and Kristi couldn’t believe her luck in finding the place. Irene jabbed a long, gnarled finger at the fine print of the lease.

      “I read it,” Kristi assured her, though the copy she’d been faxed had been blurry. Wasting no more time, she signed both sets of the six-month lease and handed one back to her new landlady.

      “You’re not married?”

      “No.”

      “No kids?”

      Kristi bristled as she shook her head. Irene’s questions were a little too personal.

      “No boyfriend? The lease stipulates only one person up here.” She motioned to the small loft that had once been an attic, possibly servants’ quarters of the grand old house now chopped into apartments.

      “What if I decide I need a roommate?” Kristi asked, though whoever that might be would be relegated to the tired-looking love seat or an air bed.

      Irene’s lips thinned. “Lease would have to be rewritten. I’d want to run a security check on any prospective tenants and, of course, the rent would go up along with another security deposit. And no subletting. Got it?”

      “So far, it’s just me,” Kristi said, somehow managing to hold her tongue. She needed this apartment. Housing was hard to find in the middle of the school year, especially any apartments close to campus. A stroke of luck helped her discover this loft on the Internet. It had been one of the only units she could afford within walking distance to school. As for a roommate, Kristi would rather fly solo, but finances might dictate trying to find someone to share the rent and utilities.

      “Good. I’ve no use for nonsense.”

      Kristi let that one slide. For now. But the older woman was beginning to bug her.

      “You don’t have any other questions?” Irene asked as she folded her copy crisply with her fingernails and slid it into a side pocket of a hand-crocheted bag.

      “Not yet. Maybe once I move in.”

      Irene’s dark eyes narrowed behind her glasses as if she were really sizing Kristi up.

      “If there are any problems, you can also call my grandson, Hiram. He’s in One-A.” She waved her fingers as she explained, “He’s kind of the СКАЧАТЬ