The Naturalist (The Naturalist #1)(58)

The crumb crust hits my tongue first, followed by the tart cherries, and then an avalanche of sweet whipped cream topples over everything as I swirl it around. The pain fades to a dull background roar as I focus on the taste.

When I open my eyes, Jillian has slid into the booth next to Gus. They’re both giving me the same odd look.

“Would you like me to put that in a blender for you?” she asks.

“Maybe you’d prefer to be alone with that pie?” says Gus.

“Sorry. First solid food in days.” I scoop up another piece. “It’s delicious, Jillian.”

“But it hurts to eat it.”

“Only when I open my mouth. It’s well worth it.”

She reaches out and pats the back of my hand. “Then keep shoveling it in.”

I notice her fingertips linger on my knuckles for a moment, then slide away, caressing the spaces between my fingers. I don’t know if it was intentional, but it was certainly sensual while it lasted.

She takes a long look at my face. “I can’t believe they haven’t caught the animals that did that to you.”

I’m extremely uncomfortable lying to her and Gus, but I don’t want to start anything that’s already over. “I’m sure it was a case of mistaken identity.”

“Too bad you didn’t get a good look at them.”

“Yeah. Too bad.”

I catch Gus taking a quick glance at Jillian, then turning back to me. “So, Dr. Cray, will we be seeing more of you at this table in the future?”

“I’m supposed to be back at school on Monday. Classes are starting.”

“I bet you can’t wait to get back,” says Jillian.

“Yeah . . .” I use my fork to trace the cherry filling across my plate. It resembles the gashes I saw in Chelsea’s body, and I no longer have my appetite. “But I’ve been thinking I shouldn’t jump right back in just yet.” I point to my swollen face. “I’m not sure if my students need to see this on their first day.”

“Can you take time off like that?”

“Sure. It’s just a freshman course. There are plenty of adjuncts that can handle that kind of thing.”

This is far from the truth. I might be able to get my department head to sign off on an absence of a day or two if I get someone to cover it, but more than a week at the start of the semester is asking for a dismissal.

I’d been trying to figure out what I was going to do and my mouth just told me, more or less. Maybe it was the way Jillian asked. Maybe it’s the image of Chelsea’s corpse and the thought that Juniper’s killer is still out there.

I’m going to have to notify the school I won’t be there at the start of the semester. I catch a glimpse of my face in the reflection off the napkin holder and realize that Officer Gunther may have done me another favor.

Dr. Bacall, my boss at the college, is a big-city elitist who thinks the rest of the world is filled with backwoods, knuckle-dragging cavemen. All I have to do is drop her an e-mail explaining that I was attacked by some hillbilly out here and send her one of the photos I took in the hospital bed.

“So, Gus, do you think I might be able to rent that room out from you for another week or so?”

“We can work something out. I might have a discounted rate if you help me with a few things.”

I catch a faint smile on Jillian’s face. “Well. I’ve got some tables to check on. Glad to see you might stick around a little.”

Gus watches her leave, then turns to me. “What are your plans for that situation?”

“Situation?”

“Do you need a microscope for everything? The girl likes you.”

“Oh. She’s great. But I’m not going to be around for that long.”

He stares up at the ceiling and shakes his head. “You’re the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met. That’s part of why she likes you. You’re a fling. Not a long-term romance. A happy convergence that lasts just long enough.”

I look nervously over my shoulder to make sure she’s not within earshot. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Suit yourself. So why are you here?”

“To find out who killed Juniper and Chelsea.”

“Is that all? A thousand law enforcement officers in this state and you’re the one that’s going to find the killer?”

“A thousand law enforcement officers in this state and not one of them even believes there’s a killer. I’m starting to think maybe the murderer is not that hard to find once you know where to look.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“You find this killer. Then what happens? Do you arrest him? Do you go to the newspapers? Do you kill him?”

“Jesus. I’m not Batman. I . . . I don’t know. I tell the police.”

“The same police that think you’re crazy and there’s a killer-bear epidemic?”

“I don’t know.”

Gus stares at me, making me feel like a child. “This isn’t a research paper. This doesn’t end with a summary conclusion and a graph. You’re talking about finding a killer and telling the world who that is. Along the way, you’re going to be turning over some rocks that don’t want to be moved. Look at your face.”