21 Dares: A Florida Suspense Mystery Read Online Free Page B

any photos of family, a wife or kids. The closest to anything fun
and personal was an oddly colorful cartoon cel of Gareth the Goodhearted Ghoul.
The light gray cartoon character was flying against a brilliant blue sky with
white puffy clouds and a bright yellow sun. An autograph was scribbled in the
lower right-hand corner, barely visible in the cheap black frame.
    It
looked strangely out of place. Abbie brought a hand to her necklace and wrapped
her fingers around the silver unicorn pendant. She squeezed it. The small horn
pressed into her palm.
    “Miss,
Reed…” At the sound of his voice, Abbie lifted her head and listened. His left
brow rose a fraction. “Did you hear what I just said?
What happened to your older sister was a tragedy that—“
    “I
don’t like to talk about it.” Abbie pushed back in the chair and stood. She
handed the framed photograph back to him. “If you’ll excuse me, I really have
to get to pre-algebra.”
    He
took the picture, then wheeled around in the chair again and hung it back on
the wall. “How is Clinton, your father?”
    “He’s
fine.”
    “We
were good friends.” His jaw clenched, his eyes slightly narrowed. After a moment,
he mumbled, “But that was a long time ago.”
    She
took a step back. It was almost as if he was trying to tell her something. Asking her to read between the lines. Did he have a point to
all this? She looked at the wall of pictures again. For a second, she thought the
cartoon cel of Gareth the Ghoul actually winked her. Her legs trembled.
Stuttering, she backed away from the desk. “I—I’m going to be late.”
    “You’re
doing a remarkable job in the class, Miss Reed, and I expect big things from
you.” The professor rose from
his desk, his chair scraping against the floor. He shot her a rather awkward grin, as
if he wasn’t used to smiling. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to be reassuring
or intimidating. “I’ll be watching you,” he said.
    Abbie
stared at him, biting her lower lip. Okay! Intimidating it was .
    The professor picked up the rain coat from
the edge of the desk and slipped an arm into the sleeve, dismissing her. More than ready to amscray, she turned on her heel and rushed out his
office .

 
 
    *   *   *   *
       
    Despite
pre-algebra and creative arts, Abbie thought of nothing else all day. The
conversation with the Professor bothered her enough to bring it up with her
therapist late that afternoon.
    “So, what’s your father’s 411 on this professor?” Dr. Wachowski sat in an upholstered lounge
chair with his legs crossed. Barely thirty, he looked like he could’ve been a
student himself. Or at least trying to pass off as one. Wearing a powder-blue shirt open at the collar and brown Pali Hawaiian sandals,
he carried the casual theme to his face with a reddish-brown beard beneath a
crop of thick, uncombed, shaggy reddish-brown hair. Abbie sat on a couch across
from him.  
    “Oh, no. I don’t bring up the past with Clinton
Reed.” She glanced back out the
window and watched the rain tap against the glass. She shifted on the
couch but kept her eyes focused outside. The downpour wasn’t letting up.
    There
was a pause, and Dr. Wachowski tilted his head. “Do you ever think about it?
Think about that night?”
    “What?”Abbie
turned away from the window. She caught a hint of the blue tattoo revealed by
his open collar.
    “The
night your sister died.” Wachowski’s voice lowered, as if he was trying to make
his words sound as gentle as possible. “Why don’t you tell me about that
night?”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    Chapter 4

 
    A bbie’s answer to her therapist was abrupt,
ending any possibility to continue that line of conversation. She never thought
about that night . It seemed more like
a bad dream now. One she didn’t want to remember. Or talk about. Or relive in any
fashion.
    She
realized her grip on the little unicorn pendant was so tight that the horn
actually pressed