17. The Dark Room

17

M y heart was pounding so loudly that I could only hear the sound of blood rushing in my ears. It was most likely the reason why I didn't hear anyone at the door or feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket.

I was temporarily blinded when Chance's bedroom light switched on, but there was no mistaking Chance's voice when he angrily called out, "Who's in here!?"

I froze.

Chance rounded the corner of the kitchenette and flipped on the bathroom light, finally able to see that I was the intruder.

A knowing and defeated look crossed his face, and he put his hands up defensively when he said, "Violet, I swear, this is not what it looks like."

I said nothing, still too shocked to speak.

Of all the things I had considered finding in Chance's apartment, dozens, if not hundreds, of images of my own face staring back at me was not one of them.

"Let me explain…" he said softly, but he made the mistake of taking a step toward me.

Without warning, adrenaline surged through me, sparking my fight-or-flight instinct. I backed up until I hit the edge of the bathtub, almost missing the wall as I reached for something to help stabilize my body before I could tilt backward.

"What could you possibly say to explain these!?" I hissed in a shrill voice that sounded unrecognizable to my own ears. "How can you explain what happened to Claire, Chance?" I panted. "Or should I call you Alexander Roberts!?" I challenged.

All the color instantly drained from Chance's face upon hearing his given name from my lips. If he hadn't been wearing a green sweater, I would have thought my vision had gone greyscale.

"Jolene knows I'm here, so if something happens to me, like it did with Claire, you won't get away with it."

Chance's jaw set in defiance. "Whatever you think you know, you don't—this has all been one big misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding!?" I waved my hands around at the photos surrounding me. "You've been stalking me! You have me cornered in your bathroom!"

He slowly backed out of the doorway into the larger room, allowing me space to exit, but I didn't trust him enough to think it wasn't some sort of ploy.

"Violet, please—you can come out."

"No!" I shouted stubbornly.

"Just come out here and sit down so I can explain everything." He glared at me, continuing to slowly back away from the door, farther into his room, until he made it to the foot of his bed, where he gently sat down at the edge, leaving me a path to his front door, if I could make it there faster than him. "Please."

I swallowed, my gaze bouncing between Chance and the door.

Taking slow steps, I approached the threshold of the bathroom, eyeing him warily. "You're a murderer and a stalker," I accused him, still formulating my exit strategy.

"I most certainly am not a murderer," he replied adamantly, folding his arms over his chest, blue-grey eyes blazing.

"What happened to Claire then? You said it was your fault," I spit. "And I see you're not denying the stalking."

Chance huffed in frustration. "How did you even know I knew her?"

" Knew her!?" I pursed my lips, glancing again at the door. "I heard you in my classroom! I've been wondering for weeks what you were up to with her—worried you might even be having an affair with her."

"WHAT!?" he half-yelled, half-laughed.

I was thoroughly confused by his response, but continued to slowly inch my way through the kitchen.

"If you'll just sit down." He pointed to the small bistro table and chairs next to me, just outside the bathroom door, exactly the same as the set in my room. "I'll answer all your questions."

"I'm fine right here," I replied, almost to the front door. "I'd be better still if I was away from you entirely, stalker ."

"Fine, have it your way." He uncrossed his arms and leaned back on his hands. "And yes, you figured out my legal name. Are you happy?" He seemed particularly put out by that revelation.

"Why did you lie?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want anyone to know I was a Roberts. And I've never gone by Alexander. Chance is my middle name—it's what everyone has always called me." He crossed his legs at his ankles. His posture was so casual, it almost made me want to laugh.

"And what about Claire?"

"I'd never even look at a student like that, let alone touch one." He grimaced at the thought, and his sentiment felt genuine. "She was dating my cousin—Daniel Graham."

On cue, so many pieces fell into place. And while I didn't have every single detail figured out, things slowly began to come into focus.

"You came here to try and figure out what happened to him?" I guessed.

"Took quite a bit of money to bribe Jennings to retire early and recommend me for the position," Chance admitted.

My lips parted in shock.

"But if he's your cousin, why was he on a scholarship?"

"It's complicated. My family didn't know about him for a long time, and because they didn't like his mother, he doesn't—didn't have access to the same things I did." Chance winced as he corrected his tense. "I only got to know Daniel a couple years ago, but we got close really quickly. And then suddenly he just disappeared off the face of the earth and wouldn't respond to any type of contact. It wasn't like him. I don't care what the police think. I knew something was very wrong." He leaned forward, running his hands over his face. "Claire was helping me…then whoever got to Daniel found out and took care of her too."

I blinked. The photos, the laptop, it all made perfect sense then. "Was he working on an article that got him into trouble?"

Chance nodded. "I think so."

"You're not a very good detective," I said indignantly. "I knew from the get-go there was something off with you."

Chance gave a humorless laugh. "That's fair—you're much more perceptive than I ever gave you credit for. I won't make the same mistake again. Here I thought the only reason you disliked me was because I couldn't manage to tell you the truth about working here the first night we met."

"There are a lot of reasons." I glared at him.

Chance laughed again, this time with a bit more mirth. "I look forward to hearing each and every grievance you have with me."

I huffed.

"You make it so easy to push your buttons, and you're adorable while doing so—I can't help myself."

"You're a jerk."

"Just a shitty detective, like you said. Now will you sit down so I can get you up to speed?"

"You want to work together?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah." He shrugged, his brow furrowed as a result of my reaction.

"But I still don't trust you. And none of what you've said explains the stalking." I hazarded a glance back at the bathroom. I wasn't nearly satisfied. "What kind of a creep takes pictures like that, Chance?" I demanded.

"Well, before we met, I suspected you might be involved," he admitted begrudgingly.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I shouted. "I was trying to help! Was the whole thing in the bar a setup!?"

"No, no!" He waved his hands at me. "That was a coincidence. I swear!"

"But you already knew who I was when we met."

"I knew your name before coming into town, but I didn't know it was you when I saw that asshole slip something in your drink." He shook his head. "And then when you told me your name and I realized who you were, I—I was intrigued. I saw it as an opportunity to talk to you without you being suspicious."

"You let me kiss you," I growled. "You took advantage of me being drunk."

His jaw ticked at the accusation. At least he had the decency not to outright deny it.

"Do you really think I'm capable of hurting anyone?" I was disgusted at the thought. I'd sacrificed so much to keep the people I cared about happy, and he had no idea. He didn't know a single thing about me.

"Of course not. It's just that you were the only new teacher last year. I was looking for variables. And on paper—listen, it was stupid and I realized right away that it couldn't have been you. You're right, you wouldn't harm a student. Besides, you're tiny—even if you wanted to, there isn't much you could do."

I audibly growled at the insult. He wasn't wrong, but I still hated when people assumed my size meant I was weaker or less than.

"Violet—"

"The photos in the bathroom are recent." I spoke aloud as the gears in my brain were working simultaneously. "If you stopped suspecting me right away, why did you keep taking pictures of me?"

Chance's face blushed crimson in embarrassment.

"Why are there recent pictures of me, Chance?" I ground out, refusing to let it go.

"You wouldn't give me the time of day; I needed to firmly rule you out as a suspect," he offered, but there was still something behind his words.

There was more, I was sure of it.

"Chance," I snarled.

"I told you it would happen that first night." He drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for the truth that remained. "You kind of became my muse."

I scoffed at the thought.

"I didn't mean to be creepy. I never followed you. But if you were around, and I had the opportunity to take some shots—"

"That doesn't make it better." I shook my head. I didn't know how to take his admission. Because I knew I should be absolutely repulsed, but there was a part of me that was flattered.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"It's the best work I've ever done," he confessed quietly, more to himself than to me.

"No more pictures," I told him firmly.

"Okay…" He frowned.

"And I want you to let me leave."

Chance sighed, but motioned to the door. "I won't stop you."

Without hesitation, I flung open the door, not bothering to close it behind me, and sprinted down the hall to my room, struggling only for a moment with the keys before I was able to lock everything behind me.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had a dozen missed calls from Jolene.

"He snuck out! I'm sorry!" she wailed upon picking up the phone.

"I'm okay," I told her, my voice sounding far calmer than my mind.

"Did he find you? What happened?" She sounded distraught.

"We worked it out," I half-lied. "Everything is fine."

"You left your bag by my desk." She sniffled.

"If you don't mind tucking it under, I'll come by tomorrow and grab it," I told her. She didn't work over the weekend, but the faculty had access to the main part of the admin offices during off-hours.

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'll see you on Monday," I told her before hanging up.

My heart was still racing, but the adrenaline was starting to wane.

I wasn't sure how to deal with the situation. But as I slowly began to calm down from the rush of everything, I tried to parse through my thoughts.

I believed Chance's story about Daniel and Claire, although I certainly wanted to ask him a few follow-up questions about being related to Daniel and having only found out about him recently.

I had occasionally seen a fashion column, written by Claire, in the student paper, but it hadn't occurred to me to ask her about Daniel. I had thought about trying to talk to some of his known friends, but as a teacher, it felt like I would be overstepping. And I didn't want to stir up feelings, as they were likely traumatized by losing a friend at such a young age.

The thought occurred to me then that if Daniel and Chance were as close as he said, he was likely deeply affected by the loss as well. I felt a brief pang of guilt at the idea of him having to process that grief alone.

But then I reminded myself that he had been taking unsolicited photos of me while I was unaware, for the last two months. Though the photos I remembered seeing in the bathroom were exactly as he had described, just candid shots, usually from a distance, of me in common areas, like the entrance hall, front courtyard, and rose garden.

Could I really trust that he hadn't meant any harm? The same confused feeling washed over me as I was both discomforted and pleased at the thought of him being drawn to me to the extent that he felt compelled to photograph me.

Lucky for me, because it was a Friday, I had the weekend to cool down and figure things out before I'd be forced to deal with Chance in person.

Unfortunately, Chance had other ideas.