Maybe he had a point. I tried to think what I would do if I’d been in her situation. I’d tell people. I would say my goodbyes. At least tie up loose ends.
I bit my lip.
“You see?” he said, slapping his knees.
“What am I supposed to be seeing, exactly?”
“That Magic isn’t the only tricky thing around here. If I were you, I’d get out. Go back home where it’s safe.”
Home? I couldn’t leave, not now. What would Max say, and Dr. Robetresse, and Vern? But more than that, I was always leaving. Every time something got hard, I picked up and left and never looked back.
I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”
Jack shrugged. “Suit yourself. But keep your shit about you, you know? This place …”—he shook his head—“it’s not as safe as they’d have you think.”*
FROM THE JOURNAL OF DANICA STEWART
MARCH 30TH[TWO DAYS BEFORE THE MURDER]
No no no no no no non onnonononon. Remember. Cut not fire with a sword. Wear not a ring. Do not speak of things under the moonlight. Remember.
Remember.
REMEMBERREMEMBERJREMEVJBERREME BER
REMTMGER REMEMER MEMBER RER R
R
R
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Dr. Robetresse seemed tenser than usual at the council meeting later on. Her posture was rigid, all business. I thought she was worried that our investigation had concluded, that we’d decided it was one of her professors and were ready to call it a day.
Only hours earlier, we’d walked past Dr. Strauss’s office. A group of girls huddled around it, talking. One of them turned to me and whispered excitedly, “They found a pair of girl’s underwear in his office.”
My face must’ve betrayed what I was thinking because her eyes widened as she recognized who I was. “Oh, God. You don’t think it had anything to do with the investigation?”
“No, no!” I said, quickly. Already I’d sparked the attention of the rest of her group.
One of the girls leaned in conspiratorially. “My friend works in the Records office. She said Dani had requested a different advisor, months before everything happened. Apparently, she didn’t feel comfortable with Strauss, though she didn’t cite specifics.”
“Obvious what she meant, though,” another girl said.
The group scooted closer to the doors of his office, trying to catch a glimpse of the man inside. Strauss caught my eye from inside the room. He looked like a haunted man, drained of color, like all the ego and power had been sucked right out of him. Red, splotchy scars crept up his neck from under his collar.
“I wonder if the underwear is hers,” one of the girls said.
“How’d they find it?” I asked.
“One of his students did and reported it to the dean. That stuck-up Christian chick. Joselyn Hart.”
Now, at the council meeting, Dr. Robetresse sipped a coffee, eyes darting around the room.
“Thank you all for coming. I apologize for not being available to meet sooner. I’ve had my hands full fielding questions from anxious parents, and getting hounded by local journalists trying to sniff out a story. If you all haven’t exercised caution when venturing off campus, I urge you to start.”
The meeting concluded quickly. The pressing need for security drew Dr. Robetresse’s attention away, and the rest of us were left to stew in her warning.
