Page 2 of Pack Coffey

"Sorry, but these are the stipulations of our class being offered the position," our professor announces. "They need someone who will be quick to think on their feet in case something unexpected happens. So, keep an eye on your emails tomorrow for the results. Let's get started on the lesson for the day."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Lawrence looking my way. When I glance over at him, he smiles at me like he was waiting this whole time for me to turn back. I smile back, this time without my cheeks turning pink, before grabbing up my coffee and taking the first glorious sip. No one can have a bad day when they're sipping on a delicious good brew.

Chapter Two

After three classes and a lab today, I decide to swing by the dining hall and grab an early dinner to go. Putting my crackers and fruit in my bag, I munch on my sub sandwich on my way across campus. I should probably sit down and have an actual dinner like a civilized person, but I'm not out here trying to impress anyone.

Just as I think that, a small bit of tomato drops off the sandwich onto the front of my shirt. I roll my eyes, feeling like the universe can hear inside of my head. Flicking off the bit of food, I wipe the spot, hoping it'll dry and not look gross.

By the time that I make it to my target, the sandwich is gone. Stuffing the paper into the trash can outside of the cafe, I walk inside. Morton isn't behind the counter, but I recognize the girl that is. She's nice, too, only without Morton's memory. Giving her my order, I go find a seat in the corner.

While the place was packed this morning, there are very few people here now. Not surprising honestly. It's a known fact that if you want a good night's sleep that you're not supposed to drink caffeine after three in the afternoon. My fellow patrons are my age, and I'd hazard a guess that they're as busy as I am and need the pick me up. I'll worry about sleep later in life.

Pulling my headphones on and leaving one ear off, I start my music and open my laptop to check my email first thing. Unfortunately, there's no news of the internship yet. I try not to feel bummed since it's hardly nighttime yet, and they probably haven't had a chance to finish going through all of the applications. Closing that window, I open my video-editing app and begin uploading the one I finished recording this morning.

I'm so completely engrossed that my brain is on autopilot when the barista calls my name and I stand to get my drink. There's a guy at the counter who turns just as I make it there, and we bump elbows.

"Sorry," we both say at the same time.

It takes a moment for my head to catch up, but the scent is like a furnace blast right to the gut. Sweet cinnamon-crumb cake. The guy from this morning. I'm obviously not the only one needing that afternoon ‘pick me up.’ His surprised expression drops as I move around him to get my drink.

My hands are shaking as I get back to my table, and I don't know why. At least I'm not as flushed as I was this morning. That only lasts as long as it takes for me to sit and a person to walk over to the chair across from me. I lift my eyes to find the mouthwatering stranger standing there.

He throws up a hand in greeting, "Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you'd mind if I sat here with you for a few minutes.

My tongue seems to be glued to the top of my mouth, so I simply nod.

Pulling out the chair, he takes a seat and a drink out of his cup. "Are you Darci from the Brewing Murder Podcast?"

"I am," I tell him, pushing down my anxiety of being recognized.

He nods with a small smile. "I thought so. If your face hadn't done it for me, your voice would've. I've been listening and watching your stuff for a couple months now. I love the way you're very precise and to the point. Plus, you've got good story-telling vibes."

I like the almost scratchy tone of his deep voice and the way it gives me goosebumps across my skin. Between that and the way that he smells sitting right across from me, I'm proud of myself for being able to find my own voice.

"Thanks," I reply. "I do the best that I can to make sure that the victims are remembered. If I'm going to tell their story, I'm going to get it right."

He smiles again, bringing his cup to his lips, and I can'thelp but watch the movement. Especially as he sucks on his bottom lip, cleaning the foam off of it. I shift in my seat, realizing that I'm perfuming a bit. The exact opposite thing that I want to be doing not just in a public place, but also, over a stranger proclaiming to be a fan. I count backwards from ten in my mind to clear it and bring myself back down.

"I'm curious about where you get your information," he admits.

I don't get the vibe that he's trying to milk me for information for nefarious reasons, so I'm honest when I drop my arms to the table and lean on them as I tell him, "It's all public information. Google is a girl's best friend. When the world decided to start keeping digitized documentations, mostly journalistic articles and newspapers, it was a game changer for anyone doing research on anything."

He nods slowly. "That's fair. What about the one you covered last week on the local girl from here?"

I shrug. "Same thing. Every bit of what I shared came from the media. I simply gave it more attention."

"So, you don't have any information from an inside source or more than what you shared on your video?" he asks.

Raising up, I bring my back to rest against the seat as my eyes narrow a bit. "I don't know where you're going with this, but all of myinformation, as you call it, came from reputable sources. None of it was fabricated, and if you're asking, no, I don't have an inside link to the killer."

Ignoring the snark in my tone, he reaches down underneath the table. I have a half second to worry that he might be getting ready to pull a weapon, but it's quickly squashed when he brings his hand back up. Holding it out palm up, he flashes me a gold police badge before it disappears as fast as it came.

"I don't blame you for being nervous about all of my questions, Ms. Darci," he says. "I promise, they're coming from agood place. Have you ever worked on an active investigation?"

As soon as my head starts shaking slowly, he dips his chin in understanding. "Would you want to? Like I said before, I like your style of precision and research into cases. I think that we could help each other, if you're willing."

I know my jaw has gone slack, but that doesn't stop him. "You help me gather information on the girls that have been going missing and being found murdered, and I can guarantee you that you'll be the first to have the scoop when we catch the killer."

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