She chews lightly on her lower lip. The most reaction I’ve seen from her yet.
“Itching powder in the costume of a lead who constantly belittled their understudy. Flat tires on the car of a malicious gossip.” She shrugs. “That kind of thing.”
She looks back at me then. Clear-eyed.
“I don’t know when it became a legend. Or when it turned darker.” She pauses. “It’s possible someone used the reputation to hide something else.”
Erik leans forward. “Expound.”
She looks at him. Says nothing.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away.
“Please,” he adds.
I choke on my coffee.
She smiles at Erik.
“Since you asked nicely.” She takes another sip. “The professor.” Her lip curls around the title. “Silas Thorne. Or as I liked to call him STD.”
“What?” I ask.
“I always added dickhead or dickface to the end,” she shrugs. “It felt accurate.”
Erik watches her without interrupting.
“He was a predator,” she continues. “But his parents were influential. Donors. Board members. People who made problems disappear.”
The room tightens.
“So when he fell,” I say carefully, “you think…”
“I think people like him don’t lose their footing by chance,” she says. “And when they do, the story that survives is never the real one.”
Erik’s fingers curl against his knee.
“And the Dark Angel?” he asks.
She holds his gaze for a long moment before answering.
“Legends are useful,” she says. “They keep everyone busy looking in the wrong direction.”
A pause.
“Whoever killed him understood that.”
She shifts slightly in the chair.
“We were all questioned. You should really have Meg in here for this.” Her eyes flick briefly toward the door. “She was there too.”
I pull out my phone and text Meg.
Can you come over?
I nod at Erik. “Get the door.”
He rolls his eyes but does it.
