Page 56 of Best Offer Wins
Her arms hug two wooden apple crates, one on top of the other, their bottoms caked with dirt. She’s about my height, in baggy overalls, with choppy, Pepto-pink hair that falls just below her ears—an aesthetic about an ocean away from “Georgetown economics major.”
I clear my throat: “Hey.”
Her gaze meets mine. The roundness of her face makes her look younger than twenty-five.
“I was just talking with your boss here about someone I’ve been trying to find. Maybe you know her?”
Dottie’s eyes dart from the older woman back to me.
“Okay,” she says, clutching the apple crates like armor.
“Her name is Dorothy Ross. Probably goes by Dottie, though. Does that ring a bell?”
The color deserts her cheeks.
“No.” Her voice is soft. “No, I, uh, I don’t know that name.”
“Hm, okay,” I say, feigning disappointment. “That’s too bad. I’m a reporter investigating a professor at Georgetown—Curtis Bradshaw, you might’ve seen him on TV—and I’m pretty sure he did something awful to her. Last anyone heard, she was in the area. Maybe I can leave a number in case one of you happens to run across her?” I take a cautious step closer to Dottie. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Lord, you didn’t tell me all that,” says the older woman. “Sure, you can leave—”
Dottie cuts her off.
“Why don’t I put your number in my phone?” she offers. “I have to take these outside first, so you can just follow me.”
“Great,” I say, rushing over to hold the door for her.
Once it closes behind us, Dottie drops the crates on the back deck and descends the stairs into the grass. She motions, wordlessly, for me to join her.
“Dottie Lilian.” I state it as a fact, not a question.
She leans in so her face is only inches from mine. “Who the fuck are you?” she whispers.
“Just let me explain,” I say, taking a step back. “I’m here because I think we can help each other. We both know Professor Bradshaw is an asshole. I don’t want to let him get away with his bullshit anymore.”
This is the tricky part. I have no idea what Curt did to Dottie, so I need to lead her into spilling some hints.
“I am doing everything I can toforgetabout his bullshit!” she rasps. “The last thing I need is to get wrapped up in it again.”
She whirls away, putting several paces between us, but if she wanted to leave, she would’ve done it already. She’s thinking. That’s good.
“Listen, Dottie, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t really impor—”
She whips back around, brown eyes blazing in the golden early-evening light. “Keep your voice down, I amLilyhere.”
“Got it,” I say, holding up my hands. “I just think you should know, Lily, that he’s done the same thing to other students.”
I’m out on a limb. This will either make sense to her or it won’t. But the way her face has aged before my eyes—the intensity in her expression overriding the baby-fat cheeks—makes me think I’ve hit on something.
She studies me, arms in a knot.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she says finally. “Is their shit in his dumb book, too?”
What the hell is she talking about?
“Um, I don’t follow.”
She cocks her head in confusion. Shit. I’ve stopped making sense.
