More shuffling. This is far longer than he ought to be taking to unlock the door. What the hell is going on in there anyway? Is he hiding evidence? I wait, my hands still in my pockets. Finally, the lock turns, and Dr. Conlon is standing before me. The professor’s black hair is tousled, and his glasses are somewhat askew.
“Mason… what are you doing here?”
I slip through the opening in the door. Dr. Conlon gasps slightly when he sees me in the light.
“I could ask the same question of you,” I reply.
Dr. Conlon rubs his eyes and limps around the side of his desk, where he collapses into his seat. “I had some work to catch up on.”
“Oh, really?” I say. “Is that the excuse you’re using?”
Dr. Conlon’s face darkens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”
“What did you come here for?” Dr. Conlon demands. “To blackmail me? Is that what this is about?”
“No, I came here for the truth!” I punctuate my statement by slamming my fist onto the desk. The professor jumps in his chair and stares up at me.
“Look, Mason…” Dr. Conlon is getting nervous now—it’s painfully obvious.Good. “If you need help, I’ll help you. There are still a few days left before the exam. Whatever the problem is…”
“I want answers,” I say. My fist closes around the handle of the gun.
“I can’t tell you the answers,” Dr. Conlon says, shaking his head.
“Maybe I can convince you then,” I say.
I pull my father’s Magnum from my pocket and point it at Dr. Conlon’s face.
All of the color drains from the professor’s face. He stares at the gun in disbelief, his fingers gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles turn white.
He looks up at me. “Mason, don’t do this. It’s not worth it.”
“Tell me the truth then,” I say, shaking the gun. “Tell me how Frank died.”
Dr. Conlon’s dark brows knit together. “Frank?”
“The body lying on Table 13!” I nearly scream the words. “Tell me how you killed him.”
“Oh, Christ,” Dr. Conlon mutters, shaking his head. “Listen to me, Mason. I didn’t kill anyone. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You need to calm down.”
“Don’t try to trick me!” I snap. I press the muzzle of the Magnum into Dr. Conlon’s forehead. “Who has the gun, huh?”
“You do,” Dr. Conlon says through his teeth.
“Tell me how you killed him,” I say.
Dr. Conlon slowly raises his hands into the air. “Mason, I swear to you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He’s lying. He’s so obviously lying.
“I swear to you,” Dr. Conlon repeats. His light-blue eyes are calm.
“There isn’t time for this bullshit,” I say. “I need to know the truth!”
“I swear to you, Mason,” he says again.
I cock the gun. I want to see Conlon squirm, but he’s not doing it. He’s just slumped down in his seat, staring down the chamber of the Magnum with resignation in his eyes.
