Page 98 of Home to the Hollow

Jackass:Clearly, she wants to tell us. After all, hiding it is the best way to accomplish that.

BigBird:See if your cougar knows anything about her time here. If something terrible happened, it will have gotten around campus on a report.

Pup:I don’t know…

BigDog:If I don’t find out, I’ll call Thorn. He knows her from her time here—he made that very clear on his visit. Don’t forget to do the scans wherever you are.

Jackass:Aye, aye, Captain Dumbass!

Rolling my eyes, I close the chat and open the app Thorn’s bottom made. Snitch comes up and I push the green icon, holding my phone still as the bar creeps across the screen. When it comes up negative, I frown. There are a lot of computers here, and quite a few have easy access if you’re good at distracting the staff like me. Pamela left while I was texting to make copies in the file room, and I could do anything I wanted at seven different PCs if I had a reason and the skill.

There will be a lot in the dorms, and definitely in the Science building. We’ll have to split up after we finish these places to hit the business complex and the library as well. Where else would they have a lot of computers? It feels like just about anywhere these days—even the art department will have them for digital shit. It will not be easy to narrow the search parameters if we can’t find a building to point Thorn toward.

At least they figured out the fucking trail didn’t point to a phone operating system, or we’d be truly fucked.

I consider entering the group chat again and dismiss the idea. Whatever has my drugar in a snit isn’t going to get resolved over text. Like most shifters, she prefers touch and scent to help her calm, and I don’t want to trigger a random shift on campus. It would require a lot of cleanup on the Society’s part, and since most extranormals attending State U have long since emerged, they don’t have the resources here to deal with a newbie.

I’m going to wait and Ihatewaiting.

“Eddie, don’t you fret! I'm about halfway done. You won’t be tied up too long.”

Vomit. Pamela’s insinuation makes me gag, and calling me ‘Eddie’ only makes it worse.

The only person toevercall me that was Amy Matilda Behle herself during the five painful weeks we dated our junior year. Our parents damn near insisted on throwing us together until we gave in, and it was some of the most miserable weeks of my life. She fretted and fawned like I was a trophy, and even the douche I was in high school couldn’t deal with her. I told my mother a few choice lies about her character and not long after, I could break up with her.

Margaret Emily Boone isnotthe woman you want to trifle with, and Amy’s parents knew it. They backed her off faster than green grass through a goose. That was the last time they tried to wrangle me into a relationship until college, and I think my mother realized there was a severe shortage of girls in town she’d approve of.

Christ, I haven’t seen her since that phone call.

She’ll have heard about the trial. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten a phone call about my behavior or consorting with Satan's mistress or some other colorful colloquialism. She’ll never understand our living situation, and I’m going to book an appointment with her before I move in.

I’d rather stick my dick in a blender, but if I don’t clear this up, I’m concerned about what she’ll do. The girls who attacked Jolene through the newspaper have nothing on my mother. She could piss off the pope and then convince him to serve tea.

Pamela interrupts my thoughts as her high heels click across the tile. She has an enormous stack of printouts and folders, and when she slams it on the desk, my eyes widen. What happened in that file room?

“I just cannotbelievethat girl is here!”

This doesn’t sound good. “Uh, Pam? What’s eating you? I don’t enjoy seeing a pretty lady so upset.”

“Well, I shouldn’t tell you… it’s office gossip.”

I arch a brow. That’s Southern woman for ‘ask me again,’ and even I know it. “Pam, I am a vault of secrets. You can trust me—I am a judge, after all.”

“Just between you and me and the fence post, there’s a former student on campus and well, I’m surprised she had the guts to show her face after pitching such a hissy while she was here,” Pamela says, shaking her head. “Bless her heart. That girl wasn’t right in the head.”

Eyeing her, I work to calm the sudden attention my sides are paying to her words. Something smells wrong, and I’m sure I’m not going to like this conversation. “What happened?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember, Eddie. It was while you were here. Jolene Whitley had a bad turn with that fiancé of hers, and we damn near had to send her to the looney bin. You know he ended up marrying that girl he dumped her for, so I’d say good riddance to bad rubbish, but she was hysterical for almost an entire semester.”

I blink. Fiancé? Looney bin? What in the actualfuckwent on that I missed partying myself into oblivion?

“How did you… work it out?” I ask quietly.

“Jackson Thorn was her RA, and you knowhishistory, so he dug her out and they got thick as thieves.” Her nose wrinkles and she sniffs as she hands me the stack of papers she compiled while she ran her mouth. “It doesn’t surprise me.Hiskind is always good with the crazies.”

Fury sparks in my veins and I yank my prize to my chest to keep from doing something I’d regret. My voice is low and dark as I glare at the nasty woman in front of me. “Pamela, you’re giving a sermon from the confessional. I’d think long and hard about how being ugly on the inside might inform the outside. Thanks for the files.”

Her mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ as I turn to walk away and I ignore her frantic shouts about coming back to set our date. If brains were leather, she wouldn’t have enough to saddle a June bug.

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