They walked from the psych lab to the humanities building as Drayco cataloged every college landmark to add to his mental map. Mostly, he watched the students. The Parkhurst vibe wasn’t like UMD or other schools in the Metro region—Georgetown, GWU, Catholic U.
It felt more like Stepford U, with students who were stand-ins for the real thing, tolerating their four-year sentence as a mere formality. The stamp of legitimacy to access the parental bank, now and in the future.
Sarg’s pocket buzzed, and Drayco watched with fascination as Sarg pulled out the cellphone and typed furiously with both thumbs. When he finished, he pocketed the phone. “Tara. Can’t keep in touch with either of my kids, otherwise. They don’t know what a letter is, they don’t e-mail and making a phone call is so twentie
