Grey Zone by Clea Simon Page B

was going to be fine, but now, I don’t know. Suze was telling me about how the idea of suicide can spread, and, well, maybe that’s happening here.’
    The full implications of what she had just said hit her. ‘I might have been the last person to see her, Mr Grey.’ She paused, swallowing the end of her thought. ‘The last to see her alive,’ she choked out. ‘I should have gone straight to the cops, I know I should have. But there’s so much going on. Chris, Chelowski. And I didn’t want to get more involved in this, Mr Grey. I have my own life.’
    The silence that followed lasted so long, Dulcie was sure he had gone. She had chased him away with her whining. With her refusal – she nodded as the truth hit home – to take her responsibilities seriously. Did it matter if the girl had dropped her class? Dulcie was a teacher. She was another woman on campus. She had an obligation to help. To get involved. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Grey. I guess I’ve just let everything get to me. And, well, Suze is hardly ever around any more, and Chris is always busy.’ She didn’t even want to go into her fears about her boyfriend. Luckily, she didn’t have to.
    â€˜ I’m here for you, Dulcie. Never forget that. ’
    She breathed a sigh of relief and reached out, once again. Sometimes, if she was lucky, she could still feel the long, silky fur of her late pet.
    â€˜ Teaching is always part of it. ’ She felt a passing touch of a damp nose, the brush of a soft muzzle – and then teeth. ‘ There are connections, Dulcie. We touch those we teach. We always touch them. But there are limits. A teacher has responsibilities beyond the text, Dulcie. And with responsibility, there must always be limits. ’
    â€˜But how can I tell—?’
    Before Dulcie could finish her question, the door opened, raising a cloud of dust that sent Dulcie into a coughing fit. Lloyd entered, fanning the dust out of his own face, and scrambled over to pat her back.
    â€˜I’m fine, Lloyd,’ she managed to choke out. ‘Fine.’
    In truth, she was more confused than before. Had Mr Grey been interrupted in the middle of his message, or had he said all he’d meant to say? Sometimes, Dulcie suspected he knew what was about to happen and timed his appearances accordingly. At other times, he seemed to enjoy being enigmatic. Maybe those were the last vestiges of his mortal feline nature. Or was it just that he was so far above her, both as a cat and as a spirit? That final comment about teaching gave her pause.
    And raised some other possibilities. As Lloyd retreated to his own desk and Dulcie rummaged through hers for a tissue, questions floated about like dust motes. Had it been Dimitri she’d seen with Carrie under the arch? Had Dimitri been the missing girl’s teacher? But what kind of pedagogical interaction would have resulted in the scene she had witnessed?
    Could it have anything to do with the section she had dropped – that Dulcie had let her drop? No, she tried to reassure herself. That class had been a year ago. Whatever it was that had sparked Monday’s confrontation, it was current. Plus, it was more likely something personal, rather than academic. And that, given the cloistered environment of the university, probably meant romantic. There was a history of this kind of thing. Heloise and Abelard. Lloyd and Raleigh. It didn’t really matter, she realized, blowing her nose. None of this absolved Dulcie of her responsibilities.
    She had a moral obligation to look into this. But how? She looked over at her office mate. He was humming, flipping through yet another blue book, with a pile of about thirty others before him. Clearly, he was better at keeping up with his grading than she was, and she hated to disturb him. Still, he was the logical starting point. Not only might he have some information on who taught what classes, because