The harried waitstaff boxes up our meals and one of the servers hands me the stack of food. “Thank you,” I said, “this is a mess, are you okay?”
Forcing a smile, she nods. “It doesn’t look like we’re the ones getting targeted.”
“Not that it makes this any less scary,” I said, squeezing her arm. “Thanks again.”
Our entire group leaves with us and settles into eating dinner in our common room as I pull Kon into my bathroom. The napkins wrapped around his arm are already soggy with blood.
“I’m glad you’re always prepared,” he chuckles, watching me haul out my giant first aid kit.
“Fournier is such a dick!” I snap, rapidly cleaning the wound. “I’m going to have to use steri-strips to hold the wound closed so I can glue it. It’s going to take a little longer.”
He leans down, kissing my forehead. “Thank you,dorogoy,sweetheart.”
“I saw something when Jun was pulling Fournier away,” I said, focusing on the glue, trying to keep the gash closed. “He has a blue tattoo on his chest. It’s an unusual teal color.”
He’s listening with a little frown. “What are you thinking?”
“Remember when Lucca said the only word he could make out when Lauren was trying to tell him something? Blue.” I shrugged, picking up more steri-strips, “It could be nothing, but we’ve been suspicious of Fournier since Camille tried to kidnap Tati last year.”
“I’ve wondered if the real threat was already in place here on campus,” he nodded. “It would make sense for him to start something with one of the new students and ramp up the paranoia. I think we need to tell the Dean.”
“Hey, we’re heading up to my place to grab a clean shirt,” Kon says casually, taking my hand as we leave my room.
“I’ll put your meals in the fridge,” Tatiana says. I smile at her, trying to avoid the gaze of anyone else. The crime world is known for tattoos that tell a story, so I’ve seen every kind, every design,every size and shape and color over the years. But have I seen one like Fournier’s? The color was rare, the shape of it didn’t relate to anything I’ve seen before. Is there someone inourgroup with a blue tattoo? I know these people; they’ve been our friends for years.
But Camilla was, too.
Chapter Thirty
In which there is the blue tattoo.
Konstantin…
We’re required to go through three sets of guards to get to Dean Christie and when we are finally called into her office, it looks like a war room. Four huge monitors on the wall are a rapidly shifting montage of campus security feeds, Professors Fukumoto and MacTavish are quietly talking on headsets in one corner and the head of security, Max, is taking notes on a whiteboard.
The Dean is seated behind her desk, listening to a rapid-fire conversation with Professors Zimmerman and Buçaj. When she sees us, she nods to the only empty corner of the room and joins us there.
“We won’t take much of your time,” Mariya says quietly, “but during the fight tonight in the dining hall, I noticed something on Fournier when Jun disarmed him.”
“Go on.” Dean Christie is composed, her suit unwrinkled and every hair in place. But the fine lines radiating out from her eyes are deeper, and I doubt she’s had any sleep for the last few days.
“This may be nothing, but when Lucca was with Lauren before she…” I remember her desperation with painful clarity, her wideeyes staring up at Lucca. “Um…” clearing my throat, I try to focus. “He said the only word he could understand was-”
“Blue. Yes, I know,” the Dean nodded.
“Fournier had a blue tattoo on the left side of his ribcage, a dark teal color. We haven’t trusted him since Camille’s betrayal last year.”
“He picked that fight with Haneul because he was a newcomer,” Kon said. “He could have done it just because he’s an asshole, but people are already singling out the new students. It’s a good way to create a scapegoat.”
The Dean picks up a notepad out of the stack. “Sit here for a minute, I’m sending over Zimmerman. He’s the most likely to have seen students in the least amount of clothing in the gym. Mariya, I want you to draw what you saw. Both of you start thinking about whether you’ve seen this tattoo before.”
By the time we’re finished wracking our brains, trying to think of anyone else we might have seen with the tattoo with Zimmerman’s help, there are fifteen names on the list.
The Dean scans the list, her face expressionless, before handing it to Max. “Take them in for questioning. As quickly and quietly as you can. You two, head back to your rooms, and do not discuss this with anyone, am I clear?” Her gaze moves to my bandage. “How is your arm? Do you need to see Dr. Giardo?”
“No,” I put my arm around Mariya’s shoulders, “my girl cleaned it up. Nothing serious.”
She nods, eyeing us both. “I am pleased to see you two getting along.” A slight smile quirks one corner of her mouth. “Finally.” She walks off with Zimmerman, calling over her shoulder, “You may leave.”
