Page 66 of What They'll Say About Us

"I need to talk to Professor Hale."

Morgan sat up in bed. "You can't confront him, Tessa. Who knows what he would do, especially if he is the one who killed Cabot?"

"I feel like a conversation with me might shake him up even more."

"That's not a good thing."

"It could be. People who are rattled make mistakes."

"Or they get rid of the person who's bothering them. What are you going to do? Go to his house? Or go to the theater? At least, the theater would be public."

"He wasn't at the theater yesterday." I thought for a moment. "I won't go to his house. He'd have too much power on his home turf."

"Exactly."

"The university," I said, scrambling out of bed to grab my laptop. "He's still teaching."

"It's the middle of August. Is school in session?"

"Yes. He almost always taught in the summer session. If that's still true, I can go to his office, talk to him there. It's perfect. It's a public location. I'd be safe. He'd be surprised. It's a win-win."

I opened up my computer and searched the university website for his class schedule. "He's teaching a class from ten to eleven, with another one at noon. That's a one-hour break. He'll be in his office then."

"I guess that's not the worst plan," Morgan said grudgingly. "What are you going to ask him?"

"I'll figure that out on the way. I need to get dressed, although I wish I had something better to wear than what I had on last night." I did another quick search on the computer to figure out what retail shops might be close by. "Good news. It was so late when we got in last night, I didn't realize how close we are to Fairmont Street. There are a bunch of retail stores a block away, and a couple open at nine. I'm going to put on my smoky clothes and see what I can find."

"I'll go with you. We can pick up coffee and breakfast, and then I'll get back to work on the computer while you meet with Professor Hale. Unless you want me to go with you?"

"No. It's best if it's just me and him. We have unfinished business, and it's time I finished it."

Chapter Seventeen

I arrived at the university a little after eleven. It felt surreal to be back on campus and in the building where I'd spent most of my undergraduate years, dreaming of a career in the theater. I couldn't blame the school for my failure. It had prepared me well. And the further away I got from my theater days, the more I wondered if I hadn't ended up exactly where I needed to be. Especially now.

If I'd never created the podcast, I probably wouldn't have ever come back here, but being back in Chicago had shown me that I had some unfinished business, not just with Hale, but with Paige's death, Liam, my former friends, and more importantly, with myself.

As I walked toward Hale's office, it felt good to remember that I was different now. I wasn't that overly ambitious college girl who had believed that it was stardom or it was nothing. Life had taught me a few lessons since then, and I was stronger now, more self-aware, more focused on something bigger than myself.

When I reached his office, I squared my shoulders, took a breath, and knocked. But I didn't wait for an answer. I turned the knob and stepped into his office, feeling like I was stepping back in time.

Professor Hale was sitting at his desk, wearing a navy-blue button-down shirt, his focus on his computer. He looked up with annoyance, which quickly turned to anger when he saw me. He jerked to his feet. "What are you doing here, Ms. Conway?"

"We need to talk."

"No, we don't. Please leave."

There had been a time when I would have felt intimidated or, at the very least, worried that this powerful man could affect my life in a negative way, but I didn't have that fear anymore. "Have you spoken to the police today?" I asked, wondering if I should tell him about Cabot or not. I didn't want to interfere with the police investigation, so I needed to tread carefully.

"Why would I speak to the police?" he challenged.

"While investigating Paige's death, I've heard from numerous people that you and Paige were having an affair, or hooking up, whatever you want to call it."

His face turned to stone, and he no longer looked like the hot professor everyone used to fawn over, but a man in his mid-fifties who'd suddenly realized his past might be catching up to him.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "That was a rumor you started."

"Paige told people it was true. And now I'm wondering if that isn't the reason that she had a tragic accident." I wasn't exactly accusing him of killing her, but he knew what I was implying.