The Missing Professor— Episode Nine

𝗔𝗿𝗸𝗵𝗮𝗺, 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗰𝗵𝘂𝘀𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘀 𝟭𝟵𝟯𝟴

Jackson tightened his grip on Clifton’s bony shoulder and walked him forward. The corridor ended in more cells. Whatever the sound was, it came from the cell.

They crept forward; Jackson kept the Colt beside the man’s ear.

“Hello,” said a hoarse voice from the darkness. “I can hear you.”

The voice was clearer now. Female. Familiar.

He lowered his gun and shoved Clifton into an open cell across from the one holding Darla.

“Stay there.”

“Jackson! Oh, God. Thank God. Help me out of here before they come back.”

Darla looked rough. Her make-up had been worn off, and her hair was a mess, but she looked unhurt. Physically anyway.

“I’ll go look for the keys.”

“Don’t go,” she begged.

“But I—”

“Please, Jackson.” Her sobs were coming in waves. He had to get her out but couldn’t leave.

The door was too solid to break. He’d just hurt himself.

Worse.

“Back up. Against the wall and turn around. Cover your ears too.”

BANG!

The lock fell away, dropping into the dirt.

He heard Clifton startle at the gunshot. He shuffled forward as he swung Darla’s cell door open.

“You can’t just leave me here. They’ll kill me, or worse. Please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone. I’ll disappear. I swear.”

“Shut up.”

Jackson opened the cell and intercepted Darla for a hug as Clifton whined.

He waved the gun to shut him up while he held Darla. Her entire body shook.

After a couple moments, she released him and wiped away the tears.

“What do you think?” He asked Darla, nodding toward the man in the cell. He was practically in tears.

“I don’t know him. Never saw him when they took me.”

“Alright, get out here,” Jackson said.

Clifton slunk out of the cell, seeming unsure if it were a trap.

“Just like before,” Jackson said, tightening his grip.

“I want my shoes back,” said Darla.

The trio made their way upstairs and to the breakroom slowly. Jackson kept Clifton in front as a shield. Anyone in the building would have heard the gunshot.

Her purse lay on the table by Clifton’s unfinished meal. Jackson motioned to the trash where he’d seen her handbag. Darla dug her shoes and a few other personal belongings out of the bin, and they walked toward the exit.

The guard’s body was gone.

“Shit,” Jackson muttered. He swung the Colt in a wide arc, praying the man wasn’t still around. They stood silent for a few moments.

Somewhere in the building, Jackson thought he heard a door click shut.

“Where was that?” he demanded. Clifton looked like he was going to be sick. He clearly hadn’t heard anything.

Jackson wasn’t in any shape to take on any more today. He pressed a finger to his lips, and they walked across the rugs to keep as silent as possible.

As soon as they stepped outside, Jackson looked at Darla and his captive.

“Run,” Jackson said, shoving the man away and raising his gun.

“Yessir. Just, please, don’t shoot me.” He raised his trembling hands. “I, I, I’m going to Georgia. I got a sister there.”

Jackson watched as he took off running barefoot down the gravel driveway.

“That was...” Darla started but let the words die before they made it out of her mouth. Her vise grip hadn’t let up on his hand since they separated from the hug. Her voice was thick from the crying.

They walked down the steps and toward the DeSoto. A rustle made him turn just in time to see the white-clad guard, bloodied lip and wild eyes step out of the bushes.

“Nope.”

Darla let out a squeal as the Colt barked once and the man snapped backward and dropped into the bushes.

Jackson opened the door and held the muzzle on the man’s body while Darla climbed in.

***

By the time he got to the driver’s side, he could hear the muffled sound of crying.

She’d been through so much, it was surprising she hadn’t cracked sooner.

He thought back to the drive to Danvers Pointe, how she’d adjusted her hat, stripped the gloves and sat as composed as she had.

Maybe he just didn’t want to see the cracks.

He slid into the seat and reached his warm hand over and placed it on top of hers.

They sat for a few minutes. Silent.

He planned to let her get it all out before they drove off.

Jackson glanced up at the big stone edifice and in one of the windows, he saw a curtain shift. A silhouetted figure stood staring down at them.

***

Jackson checked the rearview mirror at least a dozen times and doubled back twice to be sure they weren’t followed.

Darla’s grip had loosened as they got a few miles from the lodge.

She stared down at her bag for the majority of the ride. He was glad, she didn’t ask questions about why he was driving the way he was.

He dropped her off at the corner and parked a few blocks away and met her upstairs. The apartment was still locked.

“Wait here, I’ll be back out in a minute. Just gotta make sure.”

She nodded and he made a quick tour of the apartment to be safe.

***

The apartment seemed wrong. Too quiet without Cody.

His strange mannerisms and odd comments had become normal to Jackson, who’d never known him any different.

Darla came out of the bathroom, a long white robe and freshly washed hair that smelled good.

“Your turn.”

“I’d just have to put the same clothes on,” he began.

“I have a few things that you can wear. Please, go. Take a nice hot shower. I know you could use it.”

She was right. He was ripe. Too many nights sleeping on couches, using a washcloth to bathe. Bandages be damned, he was ripe.

***

Jackson wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at himself. Bruises on top of bruises. A mostly healed gunshot wound on his shoulder. It would have likely been healed by now, if he hadn’t constantly torn it open. The bandage had held. It proved to be surprisingly resilient. And perhaps it was more than his imagination, but he could breathe a little better than a day ago.

Behind him, a light knock on the door.

Jackson checked the towel around his waist and opened the door.

Darla stood leaning on the doorframe. Head resting on her arm.

She looked smaller than at the diner. More disheveled, with her damp hair hanging loose, but there was a spark in her eye that he couldn’t deny. She was strong.

Jackson stared. He hesitated—just for a second—then pulled her in. He pressed her against himself. Her lips were soft. Hungry.

She melted into him and they kissed like two people who’ve been apart for a long time.

He caressed her shoulder and stared into her eyes.

For a little while, his battered body didn’t hurt.

***

“We need to see Lucy. See if she found anything else on Carlisle and Hollingsworth. And maybe this Robin fella.”

“Mmm, good morning to you too,” said Darla as she stretched her arms over her head.

The sheets dipped just below her breasts.

Her hair splayed across the pillow, and she looked at him like no one had in a very long time.

“Good morning. Sorry, how’d you sleep?”

“Mmmm, so good. Like I haven’t since he...”

He waited a beat, but she didn’t seem like she was going to finish the sentence.

“Good. I made coffee.” He sat on the bed and handed her the cup. “It’s late. We should get moving soon.”

“Yup, soon,” she said. She set the cup down and snuggled closer. She put her hand on his chest. Her nails felt good.

Sunlight filtered in through the curtains. The paint was cracked, but she’d put up a few pictures, and a plant sat on the dresser. It was far homier than his apartment.

He knew they should be moving, but who knew when they would have the time for each other again.

***

Jackson sat at the table staring at the sand that had crept into all seams and cracks of the floor and the table. He was anxious to get moving. He hoped Lucy had something. And he needed her to know to keep her head down. Someone let them walk out of Ebonwood. He was sure it was on purpose. A single guard didn’t make sense, no matter how tough.

He started to ask Darla about what happened when she arrived at Ebonwood but stopped himself.

He could hear Darla in the bathroom as she was supposed to be getting ready. Her sobs were quiet, but there. He hated hearing her cry. And he hated himself for not going in there to comfort her. But it felt like he would be intruding. He knew she had a strong spirit. Knew she would come out strong. Still.

Last night was nice. They both needed the comfort. It was the first time she had been in the apartment without Cody in weeks. No wonder she was crying. He took another sip of coffee and tossed down the last pair of codeine.

Either he was going to have to get some more, or a bottle of whiskey.

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this week's installment, please give it a like and share it with someone you think would enjoy it. If you're new to Jackson and Darla, I hope you'll take time to read through their first adventure: Danver's Pointe.

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