Goddess Rising (15 page)

“You in the market for a fake ID now?”

Sam blinked back. “Got no idea what you’re on about.”

“I’m referring to your bartender,” Alejandro replied, smoke flowing from his nose and mouth in a leisurely exhale. “Underage drinking and hanging with one of the best counterfeiters on campus? I could have you put on disciplinary for that, pisshead. No way could you compete with an infraction like that hanging over you.”

Sam barely managed to hide the shock on her face before she straightened her spine. She had no reason to believe Alejandro. “I was drinking club soda, and I’d be happy to walk right over to the on-duty officer in charge right now and do a field sobriety test to prove it. So do your worst, Alejo.”

“Don’t call me that,” he spat.

“Or what?” she replied, her chin up. “You’ll smack me around again?” Sam twisted the baton in a fast twirl, forcing him to step back as she moved forward, anxiety and anger at being cornered making her aggressive. “This ‘little stick’ isn’t just for show, Alejo,” she warned. “I know how to use it, so seriously—back the fuck up.”

He merely tilted his head, face darkened by the shadows of the low-lit parking lot. With his height and demeanor, he looked more threatening to her than ever.

“You’re asking for trouble,” he told her, his tone a blatant warning, though his posture remained deceptively relaxed.

“I’m not
asking
for shit. I’m telling you to back the hell up off of me.”

“And I told you to withdraw from the competition.”

“Good thing I don’t take orders from you,” she answered, twirling the baton fast again. “You’ve hated me from day one—”

“Because you don’t
belong
here!” Alejandro hissed. “Rich bitch like you, playing at being G.I. Jane just to gain her daddy’s favor—”

“You know shit all about me, jerk.”

“I know that this isn’t just a game for the rest of us, pisshead,” he retorted. “This is my ticket out, and the last thing I need is some self-righteous
puta
making the Ranger competition more about her bullshit feminist agenda or a way to get her daddy’s attention.”

What an asshole
. Sam was nearly breathless with anger.

“It’s a good thing I don’t give a damn what you want, Alejo. I’m doing this Ranger competition, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.”

“Oh, I
will
deal with you, pisshead.”

They stared hard at one another for what felt like minutes. Sam kept the baton moving, partly to hide her anxiety and partly to keep him back. Alejandro seemed to find it amusing, ignoring her hand even as he stared her down, finishing his cigarette with slow and hostile deliberation.

When he finally stepped back, flicking the butt into the darkness, Sam fought not to sag back in relief. She watched him move away into the darkness, toward his own car, an old beater that had seen better days. When she saw him pull out of the parking lot, Sam leaned heavily against her door, all the energy she’d come out with a few minutes ago sapped from her.

Sam looked back at the door of the bar.

She wondered how much of what Alejandro had told her was right. Wes certainly didn’t owe her any answers. What he chose to do was his business, she told herself. But the truth was that she wanted to believe the best in him. Wanted him to be more, to be better than his reputation.

But something in Alejandro’s face when he laid down the accusation told her he was telling her the truth. She also saw in his face that he wouldn’t be backing down either.

It was just going to get worse if she didn’t find a way to handle him.

Way worse, before it got better.

September—Wednesday Morning

Criminal Psychology Lecture, Texas A&M

S A M A N T H A

“T
here were three
outstanding papers presented on the topic of behavioral psychology of career criminals,” Professor Hammond told the class from the front of the lecture hall. “I’ve asked the top three partners to present the premise of their papers. I’d like for you to get an idea of their approach and to understand the benchmark I expect you all to perform at for future work.”

Chris slanted Sam a happy grin, his excitement palpable. They’d received an email from Professor Hammond’s TA a couple nights before, asking them to be prepared to talk to the class about their thesis first.

Chris had called her within minutes of receiving the news. “Can you believe this?” he’d asked. “Man, I’m
so
definitely getting that dance with you now.”

“I’m worried for you that you’re more into the dancing than the actual grade,” she’d replied on a laugh.

“Hey, I’m just a man, after all.”

Sam could almost see his smile over the phone.

“Technically we haven’t gotten the grade yet,” she’d pointed out “We’re going to have to nail this presentation.”

“Let’s practice tomorrow night at the library,” he’d suggested. “I should be done with football practice and dinner by seven.”

“That works.”

“And Sam?” she’d heard him call out just before she hung up.

“Yeah?”

“You got cowboy boots and a hat?”

“I
am
Texan, Chris. You’re not going to want to present this in matching outfits, are you?” she asked dubiously.

“When we get that A, I’m takin’ you two-steppin’ at Dukes,” he added confidently.

A big grin spread across her face. She couldn’t have thought of a better way to celebrate.

“You’re on.”

They’d practiced their synopsis at the library the next night until they’d had it down pat, and Chris was so antsy to get rolling, he was practically bouncing in the seat beside her. Sam put a calming hand on his arm. He immediately covered it with his own, squeezing it.

“Let’s start with Samantha Wyatt and Chris Fields,” Professor Hammond told the class as she moved away from the podium, gesturing toward where the two of them sat in the lecture hall.

“Here goes nothing,” Sam murmured, standing.

Chris started talking before she’d fully made her way down to the front of the lecture hall.

“Baby, those jeans definitely don’t make you look fat.”

The room’s collective gasp was almost comical.

Sam suppressed a smile as she turned around.

“I
love
your mother, honey,” she said, surprising the class. “Of course she should join us for dinner,” she added, her tone sugar-sweet.

The class blinked at them both in confusion.

“I don’t feel good,” Chris complained, rubbing his stomach as he joined her on the podium. “I can’t go to class today.”

Sam turned to Professor Hammond. “I wrote the paper, but my hard drive crashed,” Sam told her teacher beseechingly.

The class snickered, catching on to their game. Professor Hammond shook her head in mock consternation, lips twitching.

“I don’t have any money. But I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” Chris said, pretending to look for his wallet.

“You’re the best player on the field, Chris,” Sam flattered, doe-eyed. “The
very best
.”

He stopped acting immediately, straightening. “Wait, that one’s the truth, right?”

Sam just lifted her brow, turning to face the class as they chuckled at Chris’s earnest response.

“The average person is lied to approximately two hundred times a day,” Sam informed the audience. “But what’s a little white lie in the scheme of things?” she offered casually. “Except when you’re dealing with a career criminal, a con artist, or a sociopath.”

“The premise of our paper is that you don’t have to be a professional interrogator to spot lies and deceptive personalities,” Chris added, standing beside her at the podium.

“Paul Ekman, one of the world’s preeminent psychologists on the study of emotions and facial expressions, estimates that a single person can produce up to three thousand facial expressions that are indicative of our feelings. But, his premise is that all three thousand expressions can actually be categorized into seven basic human emotions,” Sam explained.

“Fear, sadness, disgust, happiness, contempt, anger, and surprise,” Chris continued, mimicking each emotion dramatically, drawing a few laughs.

“Ekman and his team developed the Facial Action Coding System in the late 1970s, and it’s been used as the foundational building block for the study of deceptive expressions, by professional criminologists and interrogators ever since,” Sam went on. “Ekman’s research has isolated nine facial indicators that can be considered reliable clues for lie spotting. The first is micro expressions, which are involuntary and can flash across a person’s face in a fraction of a second. These micro expressions are nearly impossible to squelch or control, and they give you a glimpse into what your intuition is likely reliably telling you—”

“I did
not
sleep with her! I barely
know
her!” Chris burst out, looking fleetingly guilty before switching to indignant.

Several people laughed aloud while a few guys shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“The second is squelched expressions,” Sam continued. “When a person senses that a dangerously honest expression might become perceptible, he or she works actively to cover it with another expression, in order to camouflage the intent or true emotion. Professionals pay a lot of attention to overt smiling because that’s considered one of the easiest voluntary expressions a person can make, and because it typically engenders a feeling of warmth and goodwill—even where none exists.” Sam wilted against the podium, rubbing her temples. “I have a headache, baby,” she said to Chris. “Not tonight, okay?”

Snickers rippled through the lecture hall as Chris visibly hid his grimace with an understanding smile. “Of course, sweetheart.” He turned toward the class. “The third method is looking for reliable facial muscles, such as the corners of the eyes or the chin,” Chris continued. “It’s very difficult to fake a genuine emotion like happiness or sadness in these parts of the face.”

“What grade did we make on our paper, Professor?” Sam asked.

Their teacher grinned. “An A.”

Sam swung back to Chris. He smile was a beatific grin of infectious proportions. They high-fived each other as the class applauded. Naturally, they’d assumed they’d made the grade, but man, it sure felt good to hear it.

“All right, all right,” Professor Hammond called out, waving her hands to quiet the clapping. “Ms. Wyatt and Mr. Fields, carry on.”

“The fourth, fifth, and sixth indicators of deceit occur within the eyes,” Sam went on. “It’s a myth that a liar won’t look you in the eyes. If anything, in a normal conversation, people often only meet eyes only thirty to sixty percent of the time. In fact, someone who is actively trying to deceive you is actually very likely to look you straight in the eye.”

“Pupil dilation is also a good indicator as that can’t be controlled,” Chris added. “Someone who is afraid or experiencing some other kind of extreme emotion they’re trying to hide can’t conceal unusually dilated pupils.”

“Which leads me to my little brother’s favorite ocular deception—tears,” Sam told the class with a grin.

“Hey, it’s not just little siblings that pull that trick to their advantage,” Chris pointed out. “Girls know all about how to prey on our weakness, am I right, guys?” Chris continued as several male groans and feminine protests reverberated through the hall.

“All right, all right, you’ve made your point,” Sam replied with an eye roll.

“So that takes us to the final two indicators, according to Ekman’s methodology,” Chris continued. “True emotional indicators tend to be expressed simultaneously, while feigned indicators occur in quick succession.”

“I’m
not
mad, Chris!” Sam insisted, scowling just a little before her expression smoothed.

“How many times have you heard a girl say
that
and mean it?” Chris winked at the class, drawing laughter.

“And finally, the duration of a facial expression is particularly relevant,” Sam concluded. “A genuine expression generally lasts about five seconds and very rarely more than ten. Someone who’s holding a fixed smile is likely concealing anger, anxiety, or some other negative emotion.”

“My mother does that one a lot,” Chris joked.

“Ms. Wyatt, you’re forgetting a tenth major indicator that has nothing to do with facial expressions,” Professor Hammond called out.

Sam nodded, knowing where she was going. “So we’ll conclude with one of the most powerful lie detectors you have at your disposal. Many scientists believe that intuition is actually an unconscious response to external stimuli. Just because your eyes or your ears may not immediately recognize that you’re being lied to, doesn’t mean that your brain hasn’t subconsciously picked up on it.”

“You may not be able to recognize a micro expression off the bat, but your mind is likely picking up on the emotions represented by them,” Chris added, stepping next to her. “In those instances, be aware of your own red flags. Resist the urge to fill in missing or conflicting information in a person’s story out of good nature. If you suspect something is sketchy, really listen to what
is
and
isn’t
being said.”