Chapter 51

The next day,I come to the lab to find that the arms and legs of my cadaver have been desecrated.

My legs nearly buckle when I see it. I dissected one arm in the previous lab, but the remaining three limbs have been all but ripped apart. It's all I can do to keep from throwing up.

The only other person from my group who showed up to lab today is Sasha, who looks equally horrified.

"What kind of sick person would do something like this?" sweet little Sasha says. She's nearly in tears.

I feel guilty. It's my fault that someone has done this to our cadaver. The blackmailer is sending me a message. And it's working. I'm dealing with a sick person who has no morals.

I make some half-hearted attempt to hide the whole thing from Matt. But Sasha is having none of that. The second Matt gets to our table, little Sasha speaks up: "Dr. Conlon, somebody did something terrible!"

As Matt surveys the damage, I catch the look of growing horror on his face. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened here?"

I have to look away. If he sees my face, he'll know something is up.

Matt, on his part, is furious. He gets up in front of the class and makes a long, angry speech about competitive behavior. He has no clue.

He's still fuming later that day when I come by his office.

"It's disgusting," he says as I sit down on his lap. "And to think, the person who did that is going to become a doctor someday. Disgusting."

"Well, all med students are competitive," I remind him. "That's how we got here in the first place."

"There's a difference between being competitive and that," he says, shaking his head. "There are lines that can be crossed."

Matt's in major denial. He believes cheating is very wrong, yet he's sleeping with the Queen of the Cheaters. He knows everything I did, but he must not really think about it. If he did, he'd be disgusted by me.

"It's different with you, Rachel," he says, as if reading my mind.

"Why?" I ask.

"Well," he says, "you understand now that what you did is wrong."

Yes, he is definitely in denial.

"Maybe it's just different because you want it to be different," I suggest.

Matt looks up at me. I'm always amazed by how blue his eyes are. It always manages to catch me off-guard.

"Maybe you're right." He pulls me closer to him on his lap and kisses me on the lips. "Man, why couldn't I have fallen for a girl who's less corrupt?"

I kiss him back. "I love you," I say softly.

Our eyes meet, and the smile fades from his face. Say it, Matt. Tell me that you love me. Remind me why this is all worth it.

"I love you too," he says, and I nearly sigh with relief. He raises his eyebrows. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh-huh," I manage.

Just peachy. Can I have a copy of the final exam, by the way?

"Good." He leans in and kisses my nose. "I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Matt grabs his cane and hobbles out of the office. I probably shouldn't hang around in here because it's a risk, but he shuts the door, so I figure I'm safe.

I sit down in Matt's chair, which is still warm from his body. I absently play with one of his paperweights. The inscription on the marble weight reads "Dr. Matthew Conlon, Professor of the Year."

Damn it. I don't want to screw up his life by getting him fired. But what can I do?

That's when my eyes fall on the computer.

The screensaver isn't on, and the desktop is in plain view. I see a folder on the desktop that is called "Anatomy." I click on it, knowing that at Matt's speed of walking, I have a good few minutes before he returns. I hadn't expected to find anything but certainly not a folder called "Exams." It seems almost too easy, like it has to be some sort of trick. But then again, Matt didn't expect anyone to be nosing around his private computer.

I click on the icon, and it opens up a directory containing several folders. I click on the folder with the current year and find a file labeled "Final." When I click on it, I can see that I'm staring at the final exam for my class.

My heart begins to pound. This might be my only opportunity to obtain a copy of the exam and satisfy my blackmailer's request. I take a deep breath and press the button to print the exam.

I eye the door to the office as the printer slowly, slowly lays down ink on the papers.

"Hurry up!" I whisper to the printer, which has got to be the slowest printer in the history of the world.

Images of muscles and nerves appear on the blank papers, and it's all I can do to keep from ripping the papers out of the machine.

Just as the last page is finishing, I hear Matt's key fitting into the lock. I quickly close the documents on his desktop and yank the pages out of the printer, seconds before the door swings open. I fold the sheets in half and stuff them into the pocket of the jacket I had thrown on his chair.

When Matt enters the room, it seems like he immediately knows what I did. His eyes are boring guilt into my chest. He trusted me. Then again, I did this for him. It wasn't a betrayal—not really.

"Are you okay, Rachel?" he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

I nod weakly, "Yeah, I, uh… It's been a hard day, I guess. I think I'm going to head home."

"Of course," he says softly. "Lie down. Get some rest."

If he ever finds out what I did, that will be the end. But he's not going to find out.