CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"Hey, uh, Ms. Jordan, Mr. Anders, can we talk to you about something?" asked Zane Potsdem.

"Sure," said Mary, looking up to see the young man with his constant companion. She'd learned that they'd been somewhat disruptive previously, but in her class, she hadn't had any issues. Maybe Noah was the cure-all to that.

"This is, this is probably going to get us both in a lot of trouble," said the second young man. Lenny Bergman was sleight of build, dark-haired, and wore glasses. Mary suspected he was quite intelligent, but both young men never showed that side of themselves.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" she said.

"No, ma'am. Promise that you won't let him kill us?" he said.

"Now you're scaring me," said Mary. "What's going on?"

"You've been asking us about phobias and fears, and we, Lenny and me, we've never spoken up about it."

"I've noticed," she nodded.

"We both suffer pretty badly from anxiety created by authority. We didn't grow up together or anything. We were roommates our freshman year. One day, we got to talking about our, uh, bathroom issues."

"Bathroom issues?" frowned Noah.

"Yes, sir. We get, uh, upset stomachs when adults yell at us or push us to do things. We have an insane desire to always please those in authority. We also were losing our hair, getting weird rashes, all of it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," frowned Mary. "Have I done something to worsen your symptoms?"

"Oh, no, ma'am," said Zane. "But someone knew about it. I don't know how unless they saw the medication we take. We take the same thing to help cope with our symptoms. When we're really stressed about school or grades or our parents divorcing, we both get into pretty dark places and need additional medications and therapy."

"Another thing we have in common. Divorced parents," frowned Lenny.

"I'm not following this conversation, gentlemen. What's going on?" she asked.

"About a month into the semester, we both got a note demanding that we meet Professor Gates in this random room in the science building. We thought we were already in trouble, and of course, because of our phobia, we high-tailed it over there.

"When we arrived, the room was dark, but someone was there. They were covered in black clothing, black face paint, black gloves, and had one of those voice thingies that alters your voice."

"A voice moderator?" questioned Noah.

"Yes, sir. The voice said that we were going to help them with an experiment. We thought it really was Professor Gates, but when we ran back to the hall, he was standing right where you are."

"So, it wasn't him. What did this voice want you to do?" asked Mary. The young men moved from one foot to another, shifting their weight.

"We didn't know what would happen. We had no idea. The voice asked us to find out where Tracy Bingham lived. That's all."

"That is all?" growled Noah. "That is all! You helped to murder that young woman."

"No! No, sir. We swear we had nothing to do with her murder. We work part-time in the student administration office. We just got her apartment address and gave it to the voice, as you call it," said Zane.

"When we heard what happened, we couldn't believe it. Then, the voice was demanding that we tell them where Gifford Macklin lived. If you could have heard the voice," said Lenny, shaking his head. "I know it was wrong. I know that, but that voice. It sounded like a cross between Satan and God. Something in me just couldn't say no. It said that if we didn't do it, they would make our lives a living hell."

"You've never seen this person's face?" asked Mary.

"No, ma'am. We swear. Never. I have no idea what they really sound like, how big they are, nothing. They're intent on seeing how people react when faced with their phobias."

"You are going to need to speak with the police," said Noah. "With a lawyer."

"Yes, sir. We thought that might be coming," said Lenny, looking down at his feet. "We were summoned by the voice last night and refused to give them the information they wanted."

"And what was that information?" asked Mary.

"Where you live, ma'am. It wanted to know everything about where you live, your family, all of it. We refused."

Noah moved so quickly Mary couldn't stop him. He had his hands around their throats, their feet dangling in the air as they were pressed against the wall. Ian and Angel came rushing into the room.

"We heard on comms," said Angel, hugging his wife.

"Noah. Noah, son, let them down," said Ian. He let out a long, slow breath, allowing their small bodies to glide down the wall. Falling to the floor, they coughed, staring up at the big man.

"My apologies," said Noah. "I do not like people who hurt my friends."

"We didn't do anything! We swear. That's why we came to you. We refused to do it, and the voice threatened us. We wanted to come clean."

"Is anyone else involved?" asked Ian.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, we never saw anyone else. Just this person in black," said Zane.

"Do you have a lawyer?" asked Mary.

"My uncle is a lawyer. We called him earlier, and he's on his way down here. He lives in Shreveport. I told him we were coming to visit you, and he was okay with that. We're so sorry. I wish we could help more. I don't think anyone will understand how paralyzing it is to hear someone with that voice yelling at you.

"It's why we acted out with Professor Gates. He has a deep voice that carries, and it truly sent our anxiety through the roof. I almost quit school."

"You should have," said Noah.

"Noah," whispered Mary. "Listen, I have empathy for your phobia, but it won't be a good defense in a court of law. You were still a willing participant. This person may have threatened you in some way, but you should have stepped forward sooner."

"We know that now," frowned Lenny.

"Do you suspect the person is in this class?" asked Mary. They looked at one another, unsure of how to respond.

"We've asked ourselves that question, but I think the voice is throwing us off. We tried to listen for anyone that sounded like that, but obviously, no one sounds like that."

"Did this individual know things that were discussed in class?" asked Angel.

"Yes, sir. As a matter of fact, they did. They knew about new professors being in the room, and they knew about other people's phobias," said Zane.

"That's very helpful," said Angel. He hugged Mary beneath his arm, and the two young men looked at one another.

"She's your wife, isn't she?"

"She is," said Angel. "And if anyone dared to harm her, it would be the last breath they ever took."

"We believe you, sir. What will happen to us?" asked Lenny.

"I'm not sure," said Mary. "I'm not an attorney. Your uncle will be able to create a defense around you, probably being coerced, your illness used against you, or something like that. He's the professional. Let him tell you what you should say and do. I'm glad you stepped forward and told us about all this. It helps a great deal."

The two young men nodded, then looked at one another.

"We want to help. If there's something else we can do to make this right, to find this person, we're willing to do it. We knew it was wrong. We know it was wrong, but I don't think anyone other than maybe you might understand what it feels like to have someone use your worst fear, your worst nightmare, against you. It's horrible."

"It's too risky to use you for any help, but it is appreciated," said Ian. "This individual knows who you are, probably where you live, obviously what classes you're in, and what you look like. Right now, they have the upper hand. Our job is to reverse that. We need to find out who this person is, catch them doing something that will implicate them in the murders, or get them to confess to the murders. Either way, you two cannot be involved at this point."

"Your job? I'm confused. You said this was your job to get them to do something or say something. How is that your job? Sir, aren't you a professor as well?" asked Zane. Ian smiled at the young man.

"Part-time."