Page 173 of Wicked Little Secret

I’m not sure what will come of my future. My tenure at Castlebury University is obviously long over, though I’m not sure I’d return even if I could. I have a house and car that are paid off and a nice nest egg in my savings from the inheritance I received years ago.

Theo claims I have emails from publishing agents who want me to write a tell-all book about my ordeal and shop it around to all the major publishers.

I could always travel. Move overseas. Perhaps teach English in another country. Would parents care if an acquitted murder suspect taught their children their English ABCs?

I sit down at the bench in front of the police precinct and wait patiently for Theo to show up. Something I’ve become remarkably good at after sitting in a jail cell for twenty-three hours of every day. While I’m waiting, I sift through the stack of letters that I’ve read each of at least half a dozen times before.

…except for one.

The one that stands out from the rest, packaged in a neat vellum envelope and wax seal.

My brows crease together.

I’ve never seen this envelope a day in my life. It certainly wasn’t a letter that was delivered to me inside the cell.

Emma must’ve slipped it in the pile as she out-processed me and I filled out the necessary paperwork.

I tear at the envelope as carefully as possible, making effort to preserve the fancy wax seal. Then I glance down at the letter inside and recognize the neat, loopy writing…

Professor Adler,

A wise man once said you only get one chance at making a relationship work. That wise man never heard of bribing someone with their favorite caffeinated beverage. Would you like to grab coffee sometime?

(please say yes)

Miss Oliver

I laugh out loud like a madman. My laugh is so abrupt and jarring that a couple of the birds hopping around on the sidewalk screech and take flight.

I hardly care, so amused by the notecard I’ve been written that I can’t contain the grin that spreads onto my face.

To describe the level of joy that beats in my heart would be impossible. It’s simply… limitless.

It’s a second chance that I wasn’t at all expecting.

“Yes, Miss Oliver,” I whisper to no one. “I would very much love to grab coffee sometime.”

37

NYSSA

SPRING IS COMING WITH A STRAWBERRY IN THE MOUTH - CAROLINE POLACHEK

I’ve never been morenervous in my life.

I’m seated at one of the small tables outside a local café, pretending I’m not searching the crowds for his face. Midafternoon on a Saturday, it feels like everyone in Castlebury’s out and about, enjoying the breezy spring weather.

A stiff breath shakes out of me, my fingers wrapped around the cup of coffee I’ve been sipping on for the last twenty minutes.

He’s late.

He’sneverlate.

Professor Theron Thurman Adler prides himself on being punctual. He’s a man of routine. A man of structure and stability.

…or at least he was until he spent the last two years of his life on trial for murder.

MurdersI subtly pushed him to commit, even if I hadn’t understood the full extent of what I was doing.

---