I shine the light over the rest of his face. He’s not bleeding. Nothing’s broken. There aren’t any clear signs of distress. Maybe everything’s fine?
“Wait a minute,” I say, the pieces slotting together. “You’re Sumner’s roommate, right? The overseas transfer?”
I don’t know why it didn’t register before. If Sumner hadn’t met William because he was delayed, then maybe he’s only just arrived.
William pinches his chin with his thumb and index knuckle as he drinks in the walls of Segner House. “AmI supposed to be here?”
“This is the back of Segner,” I offer. “The front is around the other side. It looks a little different at night.”
It’s getting late. I can’t just ditch him. While it’s entirely possible he’ll wake up with his short-term memory intact tomorrow, I should at least make sure he knows where he’s going.
“Here.” I step in front of the back door and use my precise jiggling method to launch it open. “Follow me.”
There’s no one in the locker room. The fluorescents dim and flicker, as if on the verge of going out. William doesn’t seem to notice. He runs a hand over the smooth metal lockers before turning to me.
“Is your stuff already in the room?”
“Stuff?” he repeats.
“Your luggage? Everything you brought with you?” I eye histop hat. “Clothes less hero-in-a-Brontë-novel and more twenty-first century?”
“I—”
“Are you doing a play or something? My sister performs, too.”
William’s eyes narrow. “No.” He straightens his posture. “And I believe this is all I have on me. I haven’t yet seen my quarters.”
“Did the airline lose your luggage or something?” I scour the area until I find what I’m looking for. A large plastic tub with a strip of duct tape on the lid,LOST AND FOUNDscribbled in sharp capitals. “Do you have someone you can call?”
William lights up at the idea. “Of course.” He clears his throat before taking a breath and hollering at the top of his lungs, “Mother! Lady Caroline!”
My heart leaps into my throat. I cannot get caught in here again. Another Ellerby visit means she’ll certainly phone my mom to discuss my behavior.
I tuck myself behind a row of lockers and listen for footsteps, my ears straining to pick up an impending threat.
He waits. Turns to me. “I suppose they’re not coming.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “If this is some kind of joke, I need you to knock it off.”
His eyes flatten. “I assure you, it is not,” he says. “And though I do appreciate your assistance, I must admit your mannerisms are unbecoming.”
“I’m just trying to help,” I say, an edge of annoyance creeping in. “Or do you have someone you can text for that?”
“Text?”
“Yeah, like”—I wave my phone in front of him—“a friend? Or sibling, maybe?”
William stares at my screen for so long I think he’s malfunctioned. But then he reaches out and carefully takes the device from my hand. For several seconds he just…blinks down at it.
Without warning, he thrusts it back at me.
Okay. I guess not.
“Do you have a phone?”
He shakes his head. Odd, sure, but some people aren’t glued to technology. From the looks of him, he doesn’t seem like the type. Maybe he’s Amish? That would explain his getup, at least. Or maybe it broke, like last year when Kaelee Shornberg shattered her phone, and her parents refused to send her a new one.
I rummage through the bin, careful to keep my voice low. “Do you know anyone in New York?”
