Hidden in the Wall Page 3

  And now? Trevor shook his head. Nothing had changed except that he was a lot older and hopefully much, much wiser. He was still a blue jeans kind of guy and he wasn’t about to change his ways for anyone, especially not stuffy Ms. Stephanie Kessler. As a matter of fact, when he got home he was going to dig out the most worn pair of jeans he had and wear them when he went to work on her office in the morning, just to make that very point.

  And when she objected this time he was going to thoroughly enjoy rebutting her protest. If there was one thing he and Steff loved to do, it was turn their innate differences into reasons to exchange clever barbs. He supposed, to an outsider, their war of words might sound like a real argument but he knew better. Steff loved matching wits with him as much as he loved going head-to-head with her. Theirs was a contest that had been going on since they’d first met and as yet had produced no clear winner.

  Trevor smiled to himself. If the time ever came that Steff was too nice to him, that was when he’d start to worry.

  Steff was restless. She’d tried drinking warm milk and had gone to bed early but relaxation and sleep had eluded her. Disgusted, she pulled on a pair of designer jeans and an embroidered sweatshirt, grabbed her purse and headed back to campus.

  Although she wasn’t fond of poking around alone in the dark, especially since the night of the reunion, she wasn’t certain when Trevor’s special Dumpster would be emptied and she didn’t want the scrap of board with the initial to disappear before she’d had another chance to at least study it.

  Arriving, she angled her car so its headlights illuminated the Dumpster and helped dispel the shadows that continued to make her so jumpy. She carried a chair from the foyer of the Administration building so she’d have something to stand on, placed it against the trash bin and climbed up.

  The headlights on her left were blinding yet failed to illuminate the depths. Her only recourse was to start lifting pieces of board out of the way and dropping them on the ground until she’d dug down to the one she was looking for.

  “My mother would disown me if she saw me doing this,” Steff told herself with a wry chuckle. “Kesslers do not Dumpster dive.”

  Piece after piece of wallboard fell at the foot of her chair and still she hadn’t located the initial. She paused, confused and sneezing from the dust she’d raised. The disturbing piece of board had been a good-size, she recalled, so how could she have overlooked it?

  Perhaps Trevor had broken up the larger sections as he’d thrown them away. She huffed in disgust. If that was the case, there was no telling what had become of the remnant. It might have been totally destroyed.

  Steff had to lean further and further in to reach the scraps. She was so intent on her search she failed to hear someone approaching.

  When a deep voice behind her asked, “What are you doing?” she almost lost her balance and fell headfirst into the trash container.

  Her, “What?” came out more as a scream than a word.

  “Look out,” the man shouted as he grabbed her ankle.

  His touch panicked her. She levered herself up and whirled as she shot out of the bin, almost losing her balance and tumbling off the chair into his arms.

  Eyes wide, she shrieked, “Let me go!”

  The middle-aged man backed off, his hands raised in surrender. “I’m sorry, Stephanie. I didn’t recognize you. What in the world are you doing here at this time of night?”

  It took a few seconds for Steff to realize she knew him. Her hands flew to her throat as she fought to catch her breath. “Oh, Professor Rutherford, it’s you. You gave me an awful scare!”

  “I’ve told you to call me Cornell,” he said kindly.

  “Sorry.” She managed a smile although her heart was still threatening to pound out of her ribs. “Actually, I should I apologize for not calling you Dean Rutherford now that you’re head of the Liberal Arts department. I guess I still feel like your student. Your classes were always favorites of mine.”

  “Thank you. I enjoyed teaching you, too.” He was smiling benevolently. “Now, suppose you tell me what you’re doing.”

  “It’s a long story. I was looking for a piece of old wall from my office.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “There was an initial drawn on it and some splattered droplets that might be blood. The more I got to thinking about it, the more I wanted to see it again just to make sure. I guess my imagination was working overtime.” She paused for a sigh and a quick sneeze. “Anyway, it’s a moot point because I can’t find the piece again.”

  “It was in this Dumpster?”

  “Yes. At least, I thought it was.” Eyeing the pile of scraps on the ground, she shrugged. “I guess it’s lost forever.”

  Rutherford had shed his nylon windbreaker and laid it aside on the well-manicured lawn. “If it bothers you that much, we should search until we find it. What did it look like? How big was it?”

  She held her hands a foot apart. “About like this, although Trevor may have broken it into smaller chunks when he threw it away. The initial itself was four or five inches high. We couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a messy P or an R. Or neither.”

  Hesitating a moment, the dean took her place at the side of the Dumpster. “All right. I’ll throw out everything at least that big and you can look over each piece before we put it back in.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Steff argued. “I feel foolish for even worrying about it.”

  “Nonsense. I won’t have you fretting.”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  In the next breath she nearly gasped. Dean Rutherford was crawling into that filthy trash bin. In all the time she’d known him she’d never seen him even get his hands dirty, let alone risk damaging his fashionable clothing, although she supposed the more casual attire he had on tonight wasn’t as expensive as the silk suits he normally sported.

  He’s doing it because I’m a Kessler and he wants to stay on my family’s good side, Steff deduced. After all, he was also married to a Kessler cousin, so he certainly knew how influential the family was. She pulled a face. This wasn’t the first time members of the college staff had given her preferential treatment because of her prominent family and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either.

  Disgruntled, she waited until the Dumpster was empty, then began sorting through the scraps while the dean stood back and watched. To her dismay, the clue wasn’t there. The poor man had sacrificed his fine clothes for nothing.

  Maybe, in the long run, it was all for the best, she concluded with a sigh. If there had been real blood on the scrap she’d not only have had a better reason to continue to be apprehensive, she’d probably feel the need to notify the police, and her father would surely hear of it.

  Considering the way she’d been reacting to the slightest unusual occurrence lately, Steff didn’t need to add any more confusion or look for any other reasons to be afraid. She was already more jumpy and upset than she’d been since the days following her eldest brother Adam’s untimely death.

  It had been ten years since that horrible summer day, yet there were times, like now, when the sense of tragedy was so strong she felt as if she were losing dear sweet Adam all over again.

  Steff had moved herself into a coworker’s office for the time that her own work space was off-limits. She’d cleared a corner of her friend Brenda’s desk to make room for her laptop and had pulled up a side chair. That arrangement was decidedly uncomfortable.

  Stretching, she stood and rubbed the small of her back. “I need to move around before I stiffen up any more. I’m going to run down to the basement for a few minutes.”

  “What for?” Brenda’s brown eyes narrowed. “It’s dark and dingy and spooky down there. You wouldn’t get me to go alone if you paid me.”

  “We do pay you,” Steff teased. “But don’t worry. I won’t make you do anything like that. I just want to see if I can find some old blueprints and maybe some contracts for those earlier p
rojects.”

  “Why?”

  “Curiosity,” Steff replied, thinking mainly of the intriguing initial she’d noticed then lost track of. Maybe, if she could learn more about the original construction of that wall, she’d be able to put her concerns to rest. It was worth a try. “I’ll need some of the old plans eventually anyway, when we get closer to building the library annex. And I want to see if I can figure out when some prior construction was done on my office, too.”

  “Okay. It’s your funeral.”

  Steff gave a nervous laugh and made light of the comment as she left the office. “I sure hope not!”

  However, the spring in her step diminished as she approached the doorway that led to the basement stairs. Brenda’s suggestion that the cavernous storage area was frightening was ridiculous. So why was the hair on the back of her neck prickling?

  “Because my imagination is working overtime again. I really should have been a mystery writer,” Steff said to herself wryly. Maybe someday she’d pursue that dream and give fiction writing a try. Right now, Magnolia College needed her and she was going to continue to support her alma mater for as long as that was true. And perhaps, in doing so, she could favorably impress her parents—especially her father.

  “Ha! That’ll be the day,” Steff muttered, disgusted to have even entertained the thought.

  She flipped on a light at the top of the narrow stairs and paused for a moment to gather her courage. Filled with trepidation but determined to ignore it, she started slowly down, her hand sliding along the smoothly worn handrail.

  This part of the college had been converted into offices after serving for years as a dorm, and the basement showed its age. Heavy, dark beams supported the ceiling and the rough rock of the interior walls was not plastered. Small windows at ground level didn’t let in much natural light because of the evergreen foundation planting of azaleas and stocky palmettos.

  As Steff reached the bottom of the stairs she hesitated. Something was amiss. A frown creased her brow. She hadn’t been downstairs in ages but she didn’t recall the archives being such a cluttered mess. What in the world could have happened to them? And why?

  The oblong tubes containing blueprints were easy to locate because of their unusual shape. The other paperwork was not. A thick layer of dust had been disturbed where the bank records were stored, making her suspect that the boxes had recently been moved and perhaps opened.

  Puzzled, she stood quietly and stared while her mind raced. In the background a mouse skittered. The beams overhead creaked. Something rustled in a far corner.

  The hair on Steff’s neck began to prickle in earnest. She had just started to turn back toward the stairs when she thought she glimpsed movement in the shadows.

  She froze. Was she imagining things? Probably. After all, she and Brenda were the only ones upstairs right now, so there couldn’t be anyone else in the basement.

  Except Trevor, she added, since he was supposed to be working in her office.

  Steff’s survival instincts took over. She grabbed the blueprints she’d come for, whirled and dashed toward the stairway at a run.

  At this point it didn’t matter whether there was a prowler lurking behind her in the darkness or not. All she wanted was to escape!

  Trevor was carrying another wooden plank through the foyer when a breathless, wide-eyed Stephanie crested the stairs. He dropped the board and ran to her as soon as he saw her panicky expression.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she insisted, fighting to catch her breath.

  He grasped her shoulders and held her fast. “Don’t give me that. You’re shaking like a leaf. What’s wrong?”

  “I, um, I thought I heard somebody in the basement just now. Brenda was giving me spooky ideas and I know my imagination took over. It can’t be anything.”

  “Suppose I go take a look.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m going to do it anyway. You coming?”

  Steff shook her head and hung back. “That’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

  “Suit yourself.” He pushed through the door and descended the staircase a lot faster than she had.

  She stood in the open doorway and called down, “Do you see anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  Trevor began to systematically search the stacks. It wasn’t until he came to the farthest overhead window that he began to think Steff may have actually sensed something amiss. The hinged pane wasn’t all the way open but it wasn’t latched, either. There was a remote possibility that someone athletic enough to pull himself up and wriggle through could have left by that route. Of course, the basement denizen could just as easily have been one of the pet campus cats. That was a much more likely scenario.

  Trevor closed and secured the window, then returned to Steff. “There’s nobody down there now, but I did find one window half open. I closed and latched it for you. Whoever or whatever it was can’t get back in now, so the problem is solved.” He hesitated, unsure about her steadiness. “You okay?”

  “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “Then you might want to stop shaking.” For the first time he took notice of the armload of material she was carrying. “What have you got there?”

  “Blueprints,” Steff said. “I’m sure you’ve heard that we’re going to add on to the Kessler Library. I wanted to see the original plans.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard. When were you going to tell me about it? After the contract was done and it was too late for Whittaker Construction to bid?”

  “Of course not. The job will be advertised, as always,” Steff said firmly. “As a privately funded college we don’t have to do that, you know, but we always try to be fair.”

  “Oh, sure. You hand me the crumbs so Alicia will think you’re on our side, then award the really plum job to somebody else. Which company has the inside track, Steff? Is it Fowler Brothers? I know they’re tight with your father.”

  She bristled in response to his accusatory tone. “Nobody has any inside tracks, Mr. Whittaker.”

  “We’ll see about that. I’ll be finished in your office in a few more days, but I’ll be watching the newspapers for the official the announcement. When the bids come in, Whittaker Construction’s will be included.”

  “I know the board of trustees will look forward to considering it,” she said formally. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He stepped aside and watched her walk stiffly away, her heels clicking on the inlaid hardwood floor. Disgusted with himself for snapping at her, he stomped over to the board he’d dropped and picked it up. The way he was feeling right now, Trevor figured he could gnaw that board to size about as fast as he could saw it with his power tools.

  He hadn’t meant to antagonize Steff. On the contrary, he was deeply concerned about her, which may have been why he’d reacted as strongly as he had. He knew she was hiding something and he didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark.

  Like it or not, Steff and he were emotionally connected. His dilemma was not whether to acknowledge his newfound empathy. It was figuring out how to deal with it.

  FOUR

  S teff’s cell phone rang later in the day. To her chagrin the caller was her father, J. T. Kessler.

  “Stephanie,” he said, sounding as blunt as always.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  Instead of pleasantries, J.T. launched into a tirade. “I heard you hired that Whittaker firm. What were you thinking?”

  “They’re building a bookcase in my office. I hardly think that’s earth-shattering. Besides, I have discretion about small jobs. You said so yourself.”

  “That was when I thought you were halfway intelligent.”

  Steff could hear her mother’s voice in the background, wheedling as if she were trying to calm him down.

  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” J.T. insisted.

  Rather than waste her breath arguing, Steff simply gripp
ed the phone tighter and said, “I’m thirty-two years old, I have a degree in business administration, seven years experience in my job and almost perfect yearly evaluations. What do you expect me to say, Dad?”

  “You might try a little penitence.”

  “Not when it’s not warranted,” she said flatly. “Alicia has moved back to Magnolia Falls and Trevor is helping his father run Whittaker Construction. I see no reason not to give him a chance to prove his skill.”

  She was relieved when her father finally said, “Very well,” though not comforted when he hung up without bidding her a polite goodbye.

  She sighed. So much for impressing her parents. Thank goodness she hadn’t involved the local police in her silly worries about the initial she’d found hidden in the wall! She could just imagine what a ranting she’d have had to listen to from her father if she’d done that.

  She couldn’t really understand why she seemed to never measure up to her parents’ impossible ideals the way her late brother Adam once had. She was the one supporting the college and carrying on the Kessler tradition at Magnolia, yet her surviving brother, Luke, got all the praise. Why couldn’t her parents see how hard she was trying to please them?

  When she turned around, Trevor was standing in the doorway behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what? For accusing me of favoritism?”

  “Yes. And no. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you’d stuck your neck out to offer me this job in the first place.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “It is to me,” he said quietly. “I’m taking a break and I’m thirsty. Do you have any sweet tea around here?”

  “If Brenda didn’t drink it all, I do.” She stood and started toward him. “About-face. It’s in the break room.”

  “After you, Miss Stephanie.”

  She smiled as she passed him. “When you call me that you make me feel like somebody’s grandmother. I prefer to reserve that kind of polite endearment for elderly ladies.”