And then she stalked off—not into the conference center, but down the veranda steps and into the night.
For several minutes, Vivienne stayed where she was.If the argument—or threat, or whatever it was—had upset her, she gave no sign of it.She didn’t fidget.Her expression didn’t change.Then she checked her watch and got to her feet.
Instead of following the petite woman, though, she turned in the other direction down the sidewalk.When she passed out from under the globe of the security light, she dissolved.
Following Vivienne out into the dark wasnota good idea.In fact, it sounded like exactly the sort of thing Bobby had told me not to do.If we’re being honest, it sounded like the kind of thing a particularly stupid character in a prologue might do before becoming the first murder victim.
But, on the other hand, ifIwere Vivienne Carver, and ifIwanted to do something evil/wicked/dastardly, it would probably involve sneaking off somewhere in the dark.
Right?
I found alotof holes in that argument.
But.
I said several words under my breath—words that mystery writersloveto use in moments like these.
And then I headed after her.
The night grew colder as I moved away from the conference center.Colder, and darker, and quieter.Too quiet, as a matter of fact, as voices faded behind me, until the only sounds were my steps on the sidewalk, and the ripple of moving water, and the wind in the trees.Security lights were spaced at regular intervals along the path, along with emergency callboxes and cameras.This was, after all, a college campus.But the light only reinforced the darkness—emphasizing how much lay beyond the reach of those little bubbles of safety.
I made my way along the sidewalk.A nightbird called.Something moved in one of the trees.A long way off, on the other side of the water, someone laughed, and shadows that might have been people moved against the dim backdrop of lighted buildings.The wind was like a hand on the back of my head, giving me a shove, and I yanked my jacket tighter around me.
How stupid are you, I asked myself.
Apparently, very.
There was still no sign of Vivienne.Had she cut off the path and looped back?Had she spotted me, and this was some elaborate deception—a way of throwing me off her trail while she went back to doing whatever she did?
It was possible.Barely.
But I didn’tthinkshe’d noticed me.
Ahead, the ground to the side of the path rose up, so that I found myself walking between the creek on one side and, on the other, the rocky face of a bluff.The sound of the water swallowed my footsteps.
Then the bluff curved away, opening up, and I saw the grotto.A few floodlights lit it dramatically: an irregularly shaped cave set into the face of the stone, within which a waterfall poured down.In the floodlights, the spray caught iridescent sparks and flecks and threw a dozen miniature rainbows.Benches lined the pool at its base, and then the water flowed down a stone channel until it met the creek.The air was damp, freezing, full of a mineral, metallic smell that was so thick I could almost taste it.
And then I saw her.
Vivienne floated in the pool, a spot of crimson in the weak light.She was facing me.Her eyes were open.And her face was covered in blood.
Chapter 5
For several long seconds, I stared at Vivienne.My brain locked up, and all I could do was breathe—tryto breathe, as my chest got tighter and tighter.
This wasn’t real.
This wasn’tpossible.
But she didn’t move.And, from a distance, she didn’t appear to be breathing.Black dots swelled and shrank in my vision.But slowly, they cleared.And Vivienne was still there.
It was a trap.That was the only thing I could think.The last time I had found her, the situation had been almost the same.She had looked injured, maybe even dead.And then she’d pulled a gun on me.She would have killed me, too, if my friends hadn’t saved me.
In the shadows, the blood was black.
Okay, what had I learned from the previous two years?Number one, take pictures.So, I snapped a few photos on my phone.Then I switched to video and recorded a short video, panning to capture as much of the scene as I could while narrating.“My name is Dashiell Dawson Dane.I got to this grotto thing on Arcadia College’s campus, and I just found Vivienne Carver.”
Lesson number two?Call the cops.
