Beloved

Chapter 12: The Special Assignment

My heart skipped a beat as I listened to Claire's message. "I met the girl you've been talking about," Claire replied. "I have to admit, I am a little bit annoyed that you knew her."

Who knew me? I wondered. "Just like you told me," Claire continued. "Cole started solving crimes with her so-called best friend, Luke Hamilton. Isn't he the guy who has been in juvie when he was a kid?"

I froze when Claire mentioned Ben's fake name. She is a cop, but the question is, Who is giving her all that information? I have to sneak into her room and investigate.

"It's only for a matter a time before Deputy Good Cop and the other girls will make their move," Claire whispered. "I have to go, I'll give you my full report later."

After she hang up, she tossed the device on the bed. I swallowed a gulp then stormed out of the dorm room. "Hey Cole," Ben said through the phone. I was sitting in the grass, hiding behind the tree. "There is an undercover cop right next to my room," I whispered.

An awkward silence came out of the speaker. "Ben?" I asked, hoping that he was still there. "Do you remember this song?" he asked suddenly. "We used to play it at the Valentine's Day dinner?" That's when my gears suddenly clicked: someone was listening to our conversation.

Shutters clicked in the background as music begin to play. " Unforgettable..." the radio sang. "That's what you are..." "You have ten minutes until the song ends," Ben whispers. "Okay?" "Why is there an undercover cop in your dorm room?" I asked. "And who?"

"Remember my stupid roommate, Jacob?" Ben reminded. I nodded very slowly. "Yeah, the Frat boy who looks like a train wreck?" I guessed.  "Yeah," Ben answered. "I got suspicious of him asking me questions about you, the murders, so I bugged his phone. As it turns out, I am roommates with the New York police." "Why is he investigating Harvard?" I hissed. "The real action is in Princeton."

"He isn't investigating Harvard," Ben sighed. "He is investigating me, and I am guessing that the Dean and my criminal record has something to do with it, so I might not be able to help you." "That's fine," I insisted with a shrug. "I'll handle the investigation on my own."

"If you need anything," Ben began. "Contact Seth, he will provide you with something you need." "Okay," I said. As soon as the song ended, I hang up the phone. Suddenly, Claire came up from behind me.

"Hey," she greeted with a wave. "Your name is Cole, right?" Not wanting her get suspicious, I nodded. "So, what class period are you going next?" Claire asked. "Journalism," I answered. "What's yours?"

"Photography," Claire answered. "When you have time, do you think maybe we can get together sometime?" I thought about it for a moment then forced a grin. "Sure," I said without enthusiasm. "Why not?"

Claire let out a squeal then hugged me. I reluctantly squeezed her back leaned over to her ear. "Listen," I mumbled. "I know you're an undercover cop." Claire froze but listened.

"You honestly think I killed those two?" I snorted. "Just to let you know, I am after the same killer you are." "Are you?" Claire rasped. "How do I know that you aren't  the killer? Eyewitnesses told me that you threw a beverage at the victim."

I rolled my eyes at the accusation. "Because the idiot was going to rape me," I snapped. "And no, I didn't beat him up. I tazed and sprayed Rebecca's ex-boyfriend because he was beating her up."

We broke away from each other then had a staring contest. "What about Marie?" Claire suggested. "Last night," I began. "Marie barged into my dorm room, asking her sister about some slumber party. Don't believe me, ask Rebecca."

Claire let out a sigh then gazed into my eyes. "I guess I have to take your word," she said. "But I will keep my eye on you." "Got it," I insisted. "But if I were you, I should put my police badge somewhere other than my pocket."

Her face turned bright red then stormed away. "Amateur," I muttered under my breath. Collecting my things, I hurried to my Journalism classroom and took my seat in the front of the teacher.

It wasn't surprising how I was the first one in the classroom. As usual, I brought out my notebook and pencil pouch then patiently waited for the others to get here.

Minute by minute, I pressed the palms of my hands against my blue chair. The journalism teacher was brushing away the remains of penmanship with an eraser.

When he looked at me, he grimaced. "Cole?" he shrieked. I stared at him for a moment before realizing that I was sitting in my mother's ex-boyfriend's classroom.

For two years, he arrested for giving me haunting texts and calls. My guess is that after Charlie was out of prison, he began losing weight and became a college teacher.

His hair was still the color of pepper, he wore a cream colored shirt, brown pants, and black loafers. "Hey Charlie," I said sheepishly. Charlie was about to say something until a couple of college students entered the room.

One by one, they filled the empty blue chairs. Charlie gave them a smile as he started class. "Hello students," he greeted. "Today, instead of doing exercises, I want you to interview people for the school newspaper."

Everyone looked at him quizzically. "What is the criteria here?" someone asked. Charlie gave an annoyed look. "The Dean is impressed with your journalism skills," he stated.

"And also, the university is having issues with the newspaper company. Until the issue has been settled, you all need to do a report on what is going on in the school."

"Like the murders?" I asked, feeling a little bit excited. Charlie looked at me flatly then said that I have to do a report on the football team, clubs, and other extracurricular activities.

"The murders of the college students are the police's business," he added with a sigh. "Any other questions?" When no one answered, Charlie clapped his hands then dismissed us to our next class.