examining table caught his eye. It was a flyer from an underground animal rights group. His eyes flashed to Eleanor. She was either a very good liar, or she was being framed.
"Is it possible some student had it in for you?" he asked, slipping the paper into the pocket of his coat.
"I don't think so. All teachers have students who dislike them, and I'm no exception. But I don't remember any student who violently disliked me. Not to this extent." She waved her hand around the room.
"I'm not making light of it, but we can't rule out the possibility that it might have been student orchestrated."
"I wish I could believe that." Eleanor dropped the papers onto her desk and attacked another pile. "My students aren't vicious."
"It could be a student with a crush." Peter remembered the photograph of her at the fish market. It had been signed with the words 'my love.' And Wessy had mentioned the possibility of a student infatuation.
"I don't think so," Eleanor argued. She felt her temper begin to rise. "Normal kids don't react to a crush with destructive tendencies."
"No, and normal dogs don't bite. But you have to allow the possibility that it might happen." He was surprised by her adamant denial. She was certainly protective of her students. Maybe that was the link! A student activist group. He remembered his college days, the idealism. And Arnold Evans!
"Why are you so certain it's a student?" she asked irritably. She knew he was trying to be calm, to find a reasonable explanation. And she knew she should be grateful to him for coming up with something that was far less scary than the conclusions that had been tumbling around in her mind. "You're right, Peter. It's something we should consider."
"Just keep the thought in mind," he said.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the security team. The officers were clearly aggravated by the sight of Eleanor and himself muddling through the mess. Their questions were cursory and hurried before they began to dust for fingerprints.
"Let's grab some coffee while they do their job," Peter suggested. "There must be a student hangout around here somewhere."
"The Hub," Eleanor agreed. "Good coffee and that never-changing atmosphere of college." She looked at her watch. "I guess I missed my eleven o'clock appointment. It's nearly noon."
"Then I'll buy you lunch," Peter said.
"Will you be available for questions?" one of the officers asked. He gave them a disapproving glance. "It might be better if you stayed around."
"We'll be at The Hub," Eleanor told him.
The walk across campus put them into the weak winter sunlight that brightened the bare campus, but the sun's rays did little to boost Eleanor's mood.
"I could stand some snow," Eleanor commented. "It doesn't seem like it's getting close to Christmas without some of that white stuff to slip and slid in."
"So, you prefer the traditional image of Christmas, white lawns, big fires, wassail. A lot of single people go to the islands during the break."
She shook her head. "No. I've never been one to do that. If I could go anywhere, I'd go back to the Smokies. My dad's asthma forced them to move out to Arizona, so there's no home there now, but I love the mountains more than anything, especially during Christmas."
They entered the student hangout, a tall building with high, Corinthian arches. There was a small gift shop, the coffee shop cum cafeteria, and the student mailboxes.
"Nice place," he said, nodding toward the art display that was one of the features of the building.
"The students do a great job of using the space for their art shows and posters. It's their building, and they also manage the cafeteria. Everything they serve is fattening and delicious. They have the very best malteds in the world, and their hamburgers aren't far from being ideal."
"You've just made my order," Peter said. "Can I get the same for you?"
"Sure. I'll get us a seat."
She found a table in the back where they could talk in some degree
"Is it possible some student had it in for you?" he asked, slipping the paper into the pocket of his coat.
"I don't think so. All teachers have students who dislike them, and I'm no exception. But I don't remember any student who violently disliked me. Not to this extent." She waved her hand around the room.
"I'm not making light of it, but we can't rule out the possibility that it might have been student orchestrated."
"I wish I could believe that." Eleanor dropped the papers onto her desk and attacked another pile. "My students aren't vicious."
"It could be a student with a crush." Peter remembered the photograph of her at the fish market. It had been signed with the words 'my love.' And Wessy had mentioned the possibility of a student infatuation.
"I don't think so," Eleanor argued. She felt her temper begin to rise. "Normal kids don't react to a crush with destructive tendencies."
"No, and normal dogs don't bite. But you have to allow the possibility that it might happen." He was surprised by her adamant denial. She was certainly protective of her students. Maybe that was the link! A student activist group. He remembered his college days, the idealism. And Arnold Evans!
"Why are you so certain it's a student?" she asked irritably. She knew he was trying to be calm, to find a reasonable explanation. And she knew she should be grateful to him for coming up with something that was far less scary than the conclusions that had been tumbling around in her mind. "You're right, Peter. It's something we should consider."
"Just keep the thought in mind," he said.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the security team. The officers were clearly aggravated by the sight of Eleanor and himself muddling through the mess. Their questions were cursory and hurried before they began to dust for fingerprints.
"Let's grab some coffee while they do their job," Peter suggested. "There must be a student hangout around here somewhere."
"The Hub," Eleanor agreed. "Good coffee and that never-changing atmosphere of college." She looked at her watch. "I guess I missed my eleven o'clock appointment. It's nearly noon."
"Then I'll buy you lunch," Peter said.
"Will you be available for questions?" one of the officers asked. He gave them a disapproving glance. "It might be better if you stayed around."
"We'll be at The Hub," Eleanor told him.
The walk across campus put them into the weak winter sunlight that brightened the bare campus, but the sun's rays did little to boost Eleanor's mood.
"I could stand some snow," Eleanor commented. "It doesn't seem like it's getting close to Christmas without some of that white stuff to slip and slid in."
"So, you prefer the traditional image of Christmas, white lawns, big fires, wassail. A lot of single people go to the islands during the break."
She shook her head. "No. I've never been one to do that. If I could go anywhere, I'd go back to the Smokies. My dad's asthma forced them to move out to Arizona, so there's no home there now, but I love the mountains more than anything, especially during Christmas."
They entered the student hangout, a tall building with high, Corinthian arches. There was a small gift shop, the coffee shop cum cafeteria, and the student mailboxes.
"Nice place," he said, nodding toward the art display that was one of the features of the building.
"The students do a great job of using the space for their art shows and posters. It's their building, and they also manage the cafeteria. Everything they serve is fattening and delicious. They have the very best malteds in the world, and their hamburgers aren't far from being ideal."
"You've just made my order," Peter said. "Can I get the same for you?"
"Sure. I'll get us a seat."
She found a table in the back where they could talk in some degree
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