Gasoline
Myra shrugged the robe over her night dress, and walked away after carefully covering Cal up.
She hurried into the house to use the bathroom, and texted Greg.
She have always had what some people may call detective dreams.
For extremely difficult cases, like Professor Cal’s case where answers were difficult to find, if it bothered her brain too much, and went on for too long, she dreamed up an important clue.
She did not know if her brain was simply showing her in her dream what her mind was too busy to see during the day, or it was something else, but every single time she had this dream, it had been accurate.
Every single time.
But the dreams were rare, and even when she hoped and forced her mind to have these dreams, many times she did not.
But tonight of all time, she had one again.
She ran up the stairs to the bedroom she and Cal shared and hurried into the bathroom. When she stepped out, she searched for her purse and pulled her phone out.
She tapped it awake, and her heart stopped as she saw she had missed so many calls from Greg.
She called him back immediately and moved close to the window so that if Cal walked in suddenly and spoke before he realized she was on a call, Greg would not hear him.
Although it was still dark outside, as she brought the phone up to her ear, she saw it was 5 am already.
It was morning.
How had they slept outside the entire night? They definitely must have been exhausted as yesterday had been an unusually long day.
Starting from that hunt where someone who was likely Lica had tried to murder her, to when she made love on a seabank to the man she was supposed to lead off in handcuffs.
“Myra, Jesus. You almost had me scared.” Greg answered on the first ring.
“I am fine. I told you I was tired and would sleep the whole night after I sent the report in,” She said.
“You said you MIGHT.” He stressed and she frowned.
He must have realized she was suddenly silent because he lowered his voice.
“The chief was summoned by the disciplinary board last night. It was hell at the Precinct,” he said, and his excitement made her smile.
So there was hell there and she was in paradise here.
Greg was really her best friend now in the world.
He hated the police chief as passionately as she did, not because he had been hurt personally by the man, but because of what he had done to her.
“And they do not even know yet that he has been holding on to the only evidence that shows Valentina was murdered,” Greg continued. “Our unit is keeping their mouth sealed. I have a mind to report it.”
“Don’t.” She said hastily. And he went quiet on the phone. “The other guys are really looking forward to their promotion. They would not take it lightly if they knew you jeopardized it.”
It warmed her heart that someone was this concerned about her, but she could not bear him getting hurt.
“I will send it anonymously, of course.”
“Greg. Only our unit knows about the existence of that security footage. If it leaks, it would be clear that there is a mole in the team,” She said, already flustered at the idea. “You really don’t want them digging, you know how good our unit is. What if they find your connection to Tricia or something.”
He must have heard the agitation in her voice because he immediately said, “Ok. Ok, I won’t.”
“Thank you.”
“Myra?”
“Yes?” She said, standing still, immediately knowing something was wrong.
“The article about Valentina’s bullying is out. Cops from the precinct would pick up many people from the college today.”
“What?”
“This case is blowing bigger than I thought.” His voice almost sounded sorry. “It seems the country has always harbored hate against the complex, so they are really going hard at this to tear it down.”
Strength went out of her legs and she felt around for the bed to take a seat.
Her mind went to little Nova and Cal, because regardless of what the man was, she could not stand to see him hurt from now on, even though that made her a terrible person.
“Lica and Atlas are chief among the students who will be picked.”
“How do you know all this, Greg? Tricia called you so early?” She was panicking now.
“The headlines are all over the internet. The Precinct put up a statement minutes after Tricia's article was published because there was already enough backlash from her yesterday's article.”
Myra’s eyes fell on Cal’s laptop as Greg continued speaking, and without hesitation she brought it to her lap and opened it.
She tried Nova’s full name, but it did not open. She tried her birthdate, but it still would not open.
She sat there thinking, trying to remember the date he and Cassie got married, even as Greg’s voice went on speaking words that her brain was not translating. She typed it in and the laptop opened.
Nova’s picture was smiling brightly at her.
Her voice caught in a sob, and her hand covered her mouth quickly.
“Myra, are you Ok?”
“Let me call you,” she said, and hung up.
She inhaled deeply and went on the internet and quickly typed in the keyword, CIARAN.
The headlines were big and bright and as she scrolled further and further, she felt her heart beating widely.
She might as well have sprayed gasoline all over the country and set it on fire.
The internet was on fire and there were already talks of a march, and one politician had tweeted about the case just two minutes ago.
She was staring at the screen. What had she done?
More people than her father and Aiden would get hurt from all this. Especially now she was entangled with Cal.
She was still staring at the screen when she saw a notification pop in.
She knew it was wrong to read a person’s private message, but it was sitting right here in front of her, and this was the man she was investigating for fck sake.
She clicked OK and the email opened. The subject was bold, RESIGNATION REQUEST ON HOLD
Myra blinked in disbelief as she quickly read the message that said Cal’s request to resign would only be addressed after the award ceremony that weekend.
She gasped and clicked the email just above, the one he had sent.
As she read it, she heard the words,
~Cal would always do the right thing~ in Gilbert Dankworth’s voice,
and then her mind flashed the image of an angry Atlas as he defended Cal in the car,
and an image of how mad Lica always was when she fought for his sake, mad that Valentina had made those charges,
she thought of Greg saying again and again that he thought the man was innocent.
But she had always been the puzzle.
Cal knew she was his student but chased her, so she clung to that as evidence of his guilt.
She checked the details of the email, and saw it had been sent yesterday morning, around the time he had left her in that room at the Quill’s vacation home.
The man had resigned to be with her.
She stared at the screen, but the words floated in her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
She turned her head slowly to see him standing by the door. His amber eyes were confused. Confused and innocent.