Grey Expectations by Clea Simon Page A

– since her office hours were supposed to start in twenty minutes.
    â€˜Are you out there?’ She glanced around the campus, which resembled a park more than ever now that the grounds crew were getting it ready for Commencement. ‘Mr Grey?’ A movement behind a tree caught her eye, but it was only a squirrel. Stepping over a string barrier – the grounds crew were serious about their reseeding efforts – she leaned back against a tall elm. At least the Yard was quiet and shady, the tree bark scratchy through her cotton shirt. With her eyes closed, she could almost pretend she was back home.
    â€˜ Home, little one? ’
    â€˜You know what I mean. The commune.’ For a moment, resting there, this conversation seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Then it hit her, and she jerked herself up. ‘Mr Grey!’
    â€˜ Now, now. ’The voice came from behind her, as if she had been reclining on the sofa and the graceful grey cat had come walking along its narrow back. She waited for the brush of fur as he settled behind her. Instead, she felt a slight breeze, as if he were moving away, and heard a low rumble, almost more growl than purr.
    â€˜I’m sorry.’ She slumped back against the tree. ‘I’m just scared. The department has us all thinking we’re guilty until proven innocent, and now the police are looking for me. And—’ She swallowed, the lump in her throat making her pause as much as her fear of chasing her dear friend away. ‘And, well, you hardly talk to me any more, Mr Grey. You talk to Chris.’
    She hadn’t meant it to sound like that, to sound so jealous and petty, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Maybe Mr Grey sensed that, because instead of the claw swipe she half expected, all she heard was a quizzical, ‘ Mrup? ’
    â€˜You warned him, but not me. You always seem to be talking to him.’
    â€˜ He’s part of your life now, little one. Don’t you trust him? ’
    Dulcie swallowed again, the unshed tears going down hard. ‘I do, Mr Grey. You know I do. I just—’ She paused, trying to find the right words for the confused flood of feelings washing over her. Her voice had shrunk to just above a whisper. Even so, her own words embarrassed her. ‘I don’t want to share you.’
    The truth out, she held her breath. Either he would comfort her, reassure her of his continued presence in her life – and of the specialness of their relationship. Or he would rebuke her. But instead of his gentle voice, or the touch of fur or fang, she heard a louder, human voice.
    â€˜Dulcie! There you are!’ It was Lloyd, coming from the direction of the office. Of course, he would have vacated it so she could meet with her students. ‘I was hoping to catch you.’
    â€˜Hey.’ Plastering a smile on her face, she nodded at her friend. ‘What’s up? Are they lining up for my sage advice?’
    â€˜Sorry.’ He shook his head, and she felt her heart sink. ‘Nothing so pleasant. A cop came by and checked out when your office hours were. He was asking me about your habits, your friends. Like you’d know any dealers!’
    â€˜Dealers?’ This wasn’t making sense. ‘Like, drugs?’
    â€˜Dealers, collectors. The kind of people who would pay big money for something like  . . .’ His voice dropped. ‘You know, the Dunster Codex.’
    â€˜Oh, this is ridiculous.’ Dulcie’s head spun. ‘I can’t even remember the last time I was in the Mildon room.’
    â€˜I pretty much told him that. Told him that your area of expertise didn’t usually take you into special collections, but he kept asking.’ Lloyd glanced over his shoulder, and Dulcie could tell he was spooked. ‘But there are other things, Dulcie. Strange things.’ He wiped away the sweat that had suddenly