Page 267 of The Professor's Wife

What the fuck?

There was a short chain.

I knelt and followed it to the spot where it was bolted into the floor. My fingers ran along the cold metal. I followed the other end to the bed and paused at the cuffs.

Realfucking cuffs.

With senses sharper, I looked around some more, my pulse picking up. I pulled out the small flashlight from my pocket and shone it across the room. There were lanterns on the ground and an empty glass. An old textbook with a cracked spine. I edged closer, my heart thudding at the unease of this place.

Like I was being watched.

Like there were eyes.

Eyes everywhere.

I shone the light over the textbook.

Classic Philosophers.

The title stared up at me.Seneca. Plato. Socrates. Marcus Aurelius.

My throat tightened.

Just philosophy, I’d said to her.

I didn’t understand then. I’d watched her laugh at those words like she’d been struck, like the idea of philosophy being casual was the wildest freedom she’d ever heard of.

Now I understood enough to feel sick.

I opened the book.

Pages were marked with neat little slips of paper. Notes and tasks filled the margins, written in an elegant hand.

Define justice.

Explain the cave.

Why does pain clarify the soul?

What does obedience reveal about character?

My fingers tightened on the page.

Then I saw the name. Just faintly, in pencil, at the bottom corner of a page was writing from a shaky hand. My heart dropped so hard, I nearly fell over.

Never forget Rowe. Rowe is still here. Rowe still lives in your memory. Rowe and June. Andyouare still here.Youare still Daisy.Weare Daisy—

With shaky fingers, I tore the page free, folded it, and pushed it into my pocket. I backed away so fast I hit the chair.

The chain rattled. The sound exploded through the shed. I shut the flashlight off and froze. Outside, the woods held still. I waited.

Nothing.

I forced myself to breathe.

Daisy.

It was Daisy who had been here.