Page 1 of Wicked Little Secret

PROLOGUE - THERON

THE PERFECT GIRL - MAREUX

NOVEMBER 2004

I wastwenty-two the day I met her.

Golden brown leaves blew across the campus lawn, the wind whistling as ominous storm clouds migrated in. Occasional specks of drizzle fell, cold drops dotting bare skin, ’til finally the floodgates opened and the deluge of rain pelted down.

The few people still traveling between classes picked up the pace. Girls shrieked, hurriedly covering their stylized hair with whatever they held in their possession—scarves, books, bags, anything so as not to ruin their decidedly casual beachy waves.

I shook my head and returned my gaze to the heavy book resting in my lap—Tort Law and Social Morality. I was eight pages into a ninety-seven page reading assignment.

…it was going to be a long night.

But while the others fled from the downpour, I basked in it. I sat parked on the ledge of a large, glassless lancetwindow and enjoyed the tinkling soundtrack of raindrops falling.

These kinds of days were my favorite. The kind of afternoons where autumn sunlight was chased away by angry, dark clouds and the landscape morphed into a Claude Monet painting.Etretat in the RainorMorning on the Seine. Maybe evenCliffs at Pourville.

Lightning flashed across the murky gray sky, promptly followed by a sharp whip of thunder. I looked up as the sound echoed for what must’ve been miles, just in time to spot the latest traveler in my vicinity.

Her.

Glancing once, then twice, torts and social morality immediately slipped to an afterthought. I found myself tracking her every harried move across the lawn. A secret spectator as she juggled an armful of books and once-springy curls lay flat and drenched around her face.

What was she thinking?

No jacket. Leather boots with a heel that stuck in the sodden grass. Books that looked like they might weigh more than she did.

She staggered through the courtyard, almost slipping in a puddle. But where she saved herself, her stack of books wasn’t so lucky—they flew out of her arms and landed with asplatin the muddy water. She hung her head in frustration, then stooped low to pick them up.

I grabbed the book on top first. Her eyes flicked to my face in startled surprise. We both slowly rose to full height, shielded by the large umbrella I was holding onto. I glanced down at the book and read the title aloud.

“Inside the Criminal Mind.”

She bared her teeth in a wince, round nose scrunching up. “And now it’s soaked cover to cover.”

“You kidding? Hang this baby out to dry on a warm afternoon and it’ll be good as new… err, well, with some wrinkled pages. But still very much legible.”

“Which is all that matters in law school.” She gave a small wry laugh.

“Let me guess. Professor Vise?”

“The one and only… otherwise known as Professor Hardass,” she answered, holding out her hand. I forked over the soggy law book, then bent to scoop up the rest for her. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ as I did, opening her arms as if to accept them.

Instead I held them to my chest with one arm, gripping my large black canopy of an umbrella with the other.

“How about I walk you? You’re drenched, and I need the exercise.”

Uncertainty flickered in her carob-colored gaze, though she eventually obliged with a nod.

“Yeah, okay, alright. Thanks.”

We started off slow across the sopping grass, producing squish noises with the soles of our shoes. Mother Nature continued pelting us with her fiercest, fattest drops of rain yet, though neither of us seemed to notice.

We were much more focused on the stranger we were walking beside.

“I’m Theron, by the way. Theron Adler.”

---