The Speed of Sound (Speed of Sound Thrillers #1)(21)

He could, quite literally, hear a pin drop.

Barnes decided to move on to their email accounts. Skylar had three: a Gmail account, where she received personal email and which she used to log in to social media like Instagram and Snapchat; one for Harvard alumni; and the third was her new Harmony House account, which she hadn’t used yet. Jacob also had three. His main account was at nyu.edu. He sent and received over sixty emails a day. His iCloud account was for personal use. He regularly communicated with his parents, as well as several friends from high school and college.

It was his third account, which was no longer active, that Barnes found the most interesting: [email protected]. It hadn’t been used in over six months. All mail sent and received by the account had been deleted. A quick search of Yahoo’s backup servers revealed why. One of Jacob’s students had begun pursuing a relationship with him when Skylar was still at Harvard. The student, Celine Markowitz, had come all the way to NYU from Redondo Beach, California. Her email address was [email protected].

If the young lady was half as seductive in person as she was in her emails, it was no wonder the professor had succumbed to her charms. Barnes figured they probably only slept together a few times, because Jacob quickly cut it off. She apparently didn’t take it well, and her pleadings grew increasingly desperate. Her last email threatened suicide. A quick check of the university-hospital records that same day revealed she was admitted for observation. She did not return to school the following semester. Like so many other gems he had in his possession, Barnes pocketed this one for safekeeping. If necessary, it could be used to keep Jacob Hendrix in line, or to get him out of the picture entirely.

If that didn’t work, there were always more drastic measures Barnes was prepared to take.





CHAPTER 18

Shu Han Ju Chinese Restaurant, Greenwich Village, New York City, May 22, 8:22 p.m.

Shu Han Ju was the kind of little-known Chinese restaurant that makes New York the city it is. The eatery was small, the seating was cramped, and the windows hadn’t been cleaned in years. The cantankerous proprietor, who was in his sixties and bore a constant scowl, almost seemed to have gone out of his way to make the place look dingy. The unkempt plainness kept the tourists away, and that was just fine, because tourists kept away the locals, and those were the patrons he wanted. Repeat business. Like the handsome young university professor who was one of his best customers.

Jacob Hendrix loved Chinese food, and this restaurant in particular, which was only three blocks from his apartment. It was also surprisingly reasonable. This confluence of factors explained why he’d eaten there 137 times over the last three years.

That, and Jacob didn’t know how to cook.

Skylar could take it or leave it. Chinese food just didn’t do it for her. No shrimp fried rice or boiled dumplings or lemon chicken would ever come close to well-chosen tuna sashimi or a great bone-in rib eye, but it made Jacob happy, so she was fine with eating here more than she cared to. Because she had to eat somewhere.

Skylar couldn’t cook, either.

Both had brought work-related reading with them, but Jacob quickly grew bored with his student scripts and put them down. He watched her closely across the table as she read through a thick file on one of her patients and jotted down notes.

“Stop staring.” She didn’t look up.

“Stop working.”

“You should have invited somebody else to dinner if it bothers you.”

“Eat with somebody else if you don’t want to be stared at.”

She kept right on putting down her thoughts. “I thought you had reading?”

“I do.” He savored the last bite of his crispy coconut shrimp.

She kept writing, so he kept staring. Until she finally put down her pen. “Okay, what?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. What?”

He paused, clearing his throat, trying to find just the right way to say what he had to say.

And then it hit her. The only time Jacob fumbled around like this was when he started thinking about the future. Their future. “On second thought, don’t.”

“God, you can be frustrating.”

“You want to talk about the future, and I don’t.”

He hated that she always knew what was on his mind. “We have to talk about it sometime.”

“Not right now, we don’t.”

“When?”

She closed her composition book and clasped her hands on top of it. “How about after I settle in to my new job? Would that be all right?”

His timing was admittedly terrible. “Fine. Whatever.”

She studied him incredulously. “What’s the sudden rush?”

“It isn’t sudden, and you know it.” He shook his head, mostly mad at himself. He returned to his reading as she returned to hers. They barely spoke the rest of the meal.

Skylar took a long, hot shower as soon as they got back to the apartment. Jacob turned again to his laptop, where he was on number nine of the twenty-two student scripts he had to get through. He glanced at Skylar’s composition book, which she had plopped onto her pillow before getting in the shower. He looked over toward the bathroom. He turned back to the composition book and considered what he was about to do. Invading her privacy would be wrong. He expected her to respect his boundaries. He should respect hers. If she caught him, it would seriously damage or possibly even end their relationship.