Sophie had looked there, she might think she'd missed it. The point was Sarah would know that was at least a good possibility.
The solution brought relief until inside her head a derisive voice shouted. Very clever, Laurie, but how do you explain the knife to yourself? Do you think it jumped into your bag? The mocking laugh made her curl her fingers into fists.
"Shut up!" she whispered fiercely. "Go away and leave me alone."
DEAN LARKIN was not alone. Dr. Iovino, the Director of the Counseling Center, was with him. Laurie stiffened when she saw him. A voice in her mind shouted. Be careful. Another shrink. What are they trying to pull now?
Dean Larkin invited her to sit down, asked her how she was feeling, how her classes were going, reminded her that everyone was aware of the terrible tragedy in her family and that he wanted her always to understand that the entire faculty had the deepest concern for her well-being.
Then he said he'd excuse himself. Dr. Iovino wanted to have a little talk with her.
The dean closed the door behind him. Dr. Iovino smiled and said, "Don't look scared, Laurie. I just wanted to talk to you about Professor Grant. What do you think of him?"
That was easy. "I think he's wonderful," Laurie said. "He's a great teacher and he's been a good friend."
"A good friend."
"Of course."
"Laurie, it's not uncommon for students to develop a certain attachment to a faculty member. In a case like yours, where you especially needed compassion and kindness, it would be unusual if in loneliness and grief you didn't misinterpret that kind of relationship. Fantasize about it. What you daydreamed it might be, became in your mind what it is. That's very understandable."
"What are you talking about?" Laurie realized that she sounded like her mother the time she became annoyed at a waiter who had suggested he'd like to phone Laurie for a date.
The psychologist handed her a stack of letters. "Laurie, did you write these letters?"
She skimmed them, her eyes widening. "These are signed by someone named Leona. What in the world gave you the idea I wrote them?"
"Laurie, you have a typewriter, don't you?"
"I write my assignments on a computer."
"But you do have a typewriter?"
"Yes, I do. My mother's old portable."
"Do you keep it here?"
"Yes. As a backup. Every once in a while, the computer has gone down when I had an assignment due."
"You turned in this term paper last week?"
She glanced at it. "Yes, I did."
"Notice that the o and w are broken wherever they appear on these pages. Now check that against the broken o and w that regularly appear in the letters to Professor Grant. They were typed on the same machine."
Laurie stared at Dr. Iovino His face became superimposed with the face of Dr. Carpenter. Inquisitors! Bastards!
Dr. Iovino, heavyset, his manner one of all-is-well-don't-worry, said, "Laurie, comparing the signature 'Leona' with the written addenda to your term paper shows a great similarity in the handwriting."
The voice shouted: He's not only a shrink. He's a handwriting expert now.
Laurie stood up. "Dr. Iovino, as a matter of fact, I've let a number of people use that typewriter. I feel this conversation is nothing short of insulting. I am shocked that Professor Grant leapt to the conclusion that I wrote this trash. I'm shocked that you would send for me to discuss it. My sister is a prosecutor. I've seen her in court. She would make mincemeat of the kind of 'evidence' that you purport connects me with these disgusting outpourings."
She picked up the letters and threw them across the desk. "I expect a written apology, and if this has leaked out just as everything that happens in this office seems to leak out, I demand a public apology and retraction of this stupid accusation. As for Professor Grant, I considered him a good friend, an understanding friend at this very difficult time in my life. Clearly I was wrong. Clearly the students who call him 'Sexy Allan' and gossip about his
The solution brought relief until inside her head a derisive voice shouted. Very clever, Laurie, but how do you explain the knife to yourself? Do you think it jumped into your bag? The mocking laugh made her curl her fingers into fists.
"Shut up!" she whispered fiercely. "Go away and leave me alone."
DEAN LARKIN was not alone. Dr. Iovino, the Director of the Counseling Center, was with him. Laurie stiffened when she saw him. A voice in her mind shouted. Be careful. Another shrink. What are they trying to pull now?
Dean Larkin invited her to sit down, asked her how she was feeling, how her classes were going, reminded her that everyone was aware of the terrible tragedy in her family and that he wanted her always to understand that the entire faculty had the deepest concern for her well-being.
Then he said he'd excuse himself. Dr. Iovino wanted to have a little talk with her.
The dean closed the door behind him. Dr. Iovino smiled and said, "Don't look scared, Laurie. I just wanted to talk to you about Professor Grant. What do you think of him?"
That was easy. "I think he's wonderful," Laurie said. "He's a great teacher and he's been a good friend."
"A good friend."
"Of course."
"Laurie, it's not uncommon for students to develop a certain attachment to a faculty member. In a case like yours, where you especially needed compassion and kindness, it would be unusual if in loneliness and grief you didn't misinterpret that kind of relationship. Fantasize about it. What you daydreamed it might be, became in your mind what it is. That's very understandable."
"What are you talking about?" Laurie realized that she sounded like her mother the time she became annoyed at a waiter who had suggested he'd like to phone Laurie for a date.
The psychologist handed her a stack of letters. "Laurie, did you write these letters?"
She skimmed them, her eyes widening. "These are signed by someone named Leona. What in the world gave you the idea I wrote them?"
"Laurie, you have a typewriter, don't you?"
"I write my assignments on a computer."
"But you do have a typewriter?"
"Yes, I do. My mother's old portable."
"Do you keep it here?"
"Yes. As a backup. Every once in a while, the computer has gone down when I had an assignment due."
"You turned in this term paper last week?"
She glanced at it. "Yes, I did."
"Notice that the o and w are broken wherever they appear on these pages. Now check that against the broken o and w that regularly appear in the letters to Professor Grant. They were typed on the same machine."
Laurie stared at Dr. Iovino His face became superimposed with the face of Dr. Carpenter. Inquisitors! Bastards!
Dr. Iovino, heavyset, his manner one of all-is-well-don't-worry, said, "Laurie, comparing the signature 'Leona' with the written addenda to your term paper shows a great similarity in the handwriting."
The voice shouted: He's not only a shrink. He's a handwriting expert now.
Laurie stood up. "Dr. Iovino, as a matter of fact, I've let a number of people use that typewriter. I feel this conversation is nothing short of insulting. I am shocked that Professor Grant leapt to the conclusion that I wrote this trash. I'm shocked that you would send for me to discuss it. My sister is a prosecutor. I've seen her in court. She would make mincemeat of the kind of 'evidence' that you purport connects me with these disgusting outpourings."
She picked up the letters and threw them across the desk. "I expect a written apology, and if this has leaked out just as everything that happens in this office seems to leak out, I demand a public apology and retraction of this stupid accusation. As for Professor Grant, I considered him a good friend, an understanding friend at this very difficult time in my life. Clearly I was wrong. Clearly the students who call him 'Sexy Allan' and gossip about his
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