Page 148 of The Chase

“Are you okay?” I ask urgently.

“I’m fine.”

She doesn’t sound fine. Her voice is weak, and her legs are visibly wobbling as she comes toward me. I wrap a protective arm around her trembling shoulders. The fact that she lets me tells me how shaken up she actually is.

“Of course she’s fine,” Laurie says stiffly. “I don’t knowwhat you think is going on right now, Summer, but Nora was not in any danger from me. Your hysteria, not to mention your ludicrous assumptions about what was happening are not only insulting, but you also just left yourself open to an assault charge.”

I can’t stop an incredulous laugh. “You’re going to havemearrested for assault? Are you kidding me? And I knowexactlywhat was going on in here before I came in.”

“Nothing untoward occurred between Nora and myself. Isn’t that right, Nora?”

She doesn’t respond. She simply shakes harder in my arms.

“You’re disgusting,” I hiss at our esteemed professor.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits out. “You interrupted a consensual intimate moment between me and—”

“A student!” I finish in disbelief. “Between you and a student! Even if itwasconsensual—and it didn’t fucking look that way from where I was standing—how is it in any way appropriate?”

His lips flatten in an angry line. I wait for a denial, an apology, anything. What I get is, “I don’t need to deal with this.”

I gape. “Like hell you don’t—”

But he’s already storming off. Frantic footsteps reverberate backstage, then get softer and softer until a door finally slams. And then everything goes silent.

Nora’s entire body is still shaking. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Hey, it’s no problem.” I tighten my hold on her. She needs it, otherwise I suspect she’ll topple over. “But we need to go to the police now.”

Her head snaps up, the top of it nearly clipping my chin. “What? Why?”

“He would’ve raped you if I hadn’t come along, Nora. You know that, right?”

“Maybe not.” But there’s no conviction at all. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, and eases out of my embrace. “He didn’t rape me, though. And I know how this will play out—my mom’s a public defender. It’ll be my word against his. All he did was stick his hand between my legs. There’s no bruises, no evidence of assault.”

“There’sme. I’m the evidence. I saw him groping you. I heard you say no. Loud and clear.”

“Summer, you know there’s no point,” she says bleakly. “The cops will give him a slap on the wrist. They probably wouldn’t even charge him.”

I have a sinking feeling she’s right. I bite my lip as I work over our options in my head. There aren’t many, but one rises to the forefront of my brain. “I think I know who won’t give him a slap on the wrist,” I say slowly.

“Who?”

I take her hand and say, “Come with me.”

__________

“We can’t just show up at the dean’s house,” Nora hisses more than an hour later. She’s in the passenger’s seat of my Audi, and she’s been protesting this course of action since the moment I told her.

“We’re not just showing up,” I remind her as I drive through the wrought-iron gates at the entrance of David Prescott’s property. The dean lives in a gorgeous mansionin Brookline, a wealthy neighborhood outside of Boston. I’m pretty sure Tom Brady and Gisele live around here too. I suddenly have a vision of Gisele jogging past the dean’s house, noticing my fabulous outfit, and inviting me over to her house for a drink. Oh my God. That would blow my frigging mind.

Unfortunately, we’re not here to celebrity sightsee. We’re here to report an attempted sexual assault.

“My father called ahead to tell him we were coming, remember?” Because my dad is awesome. Never mind terrifying when he needs to be.

And I guess Dean Prescott called in reinforcements as well, because he’s not the only one waiting for us on the doorstep. Hal Richmond is with him, and he’s the one who greets us.

“Ms. Ridgeway. Summer.” As usual, his “accent” contains a patronizing note. “What’s all this about?”

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