I lifted my head just in time to see Emily Reinnert standing in front of her open locker. A surge of hope propelled me toward her, but her face didn’t mirror any recognition. She shut her locker and started to walk away.
“Emily, wait!” I called, not caring who stared. She stopped to let me catch up, but wouldn’t look at me.
“You’re back.” I felt foolish for stating the obvious, but I didn’t know what else to say. She was here, and alive, the only person who might remember something. I wanted to ask her all the same questions Posie couldn’t answer. I glanced at her forearm, curious about the blue number I’d only heard about. The fading remains of a dark mark lingered, visible under her unbuttoned long sleeve. It looked like a bruise. The kind that I’d seen under Jeremy’s sleeves. Carefully placed. Easy to conceal. She hugged her arms around herself and took a step back.
“I came back for finals,” she said quietly with quick anxious looks around, a changed Emily from the confident cheerleader I’d tutored.
Vince and Emily have been fighting a lot.
Ever since Jeremy showed TJ that picture of Emily and Vince together. Vince was at the game. Vince was at the amusement park. Vince was on the list.
“Emily, what happened to your arm? Who did this to you?” Her face paled. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.” “Says who?”
“The police.” She walked briskly out the front doors, where a flashing blue light caught my attention.
Outside the window, two police cars pulled up. The officers got out and shut their doors. They carried papers. Probably a warrant. I was out of time.
I ran, following the emergency exit signs to a rear door, looked to make sure no one was watching, and then pulled the fire alarm on the wall, using my sleeve to cover my fingers.
Fire alarms blared, and a rush of students poured into the halls, flooding the exits. The chaos would buy me some time. I’d be impossible to find in a swarm of three thousand people.
I pulled my hood over my head and made my way quickly into the trees behind the ball fields, the same path I’d used to escape unseen after I’d found Marcia’s body in the pool. It would take administration at least fifteen minutes to locate the source of the false alarm, clear the halls, and get everyone back to class. By then, I’d be long gone.
? ? ?
I walked under the high dome ceiling of Union Station, clutching my train ticket. I’d listen to Reece and get as far away as possible. The killer wouldn’t know I was gone, and if he did follow through on this morning’s clue in the Missed Connections, then I’d have an alibi, in another state on the other side of the country. It was the only winning move. I’d stay away long enough for the police to figure out who the real killer was and I’d come back for Reece after the dust settled. Problem solved.
Instinct told me to stay near the perimeter, away from all the people, their exposed arms and hands and faces. But I jammed my hands in my pockets and slipped between the crowds, edging my way to the front of the line. I would be first. I wouldn’t lose my seat. I wouldn’t change my mind this time.
A phone rang behind me, and continued to ring. A man tapped my sleeve. “Miss, I think that’s your phone.”
“Not mine,” I said. “I don’t have a phone.” I turned back toward the departure gate. The conductor was readying to board and I hefted my pack higher on my shoulder. The phone rang again. Closer this time.
Something shivered through the material, an insistent vibration inside my backpack. I lowered it to the floor, slowly unzipped it, and reached inside. The phone I’d locked in Reece’s apartment five days ago buzzed in my hand.
One new text message flashed across the screen.
Found a stray cat.
Think he belongs to you.
Tonight @9. The answer’s in the box.
I shut the phone slowly, watched the blue screen fade to black. Someone had access to Reece’s apartment and had taken the phone. They’d been close to me. Close enough to put it in my backpack. Close enough that I hadn’t even noticed it happening.
It lit up again, alive in my hand.
Gena’s name flashed. Shaking, I opened the phone and put it to my ear. Passengers converged toward the gate.
“Hello?” My eyes skimmed the swarm as it pressed in around me.
“Leigh.” Her voice was muffled and cut out in brief silences. “Leigh, it’s Gena . . .”
Someone knocked into my shoulder.
“. . . called to thank you. . . .”
“Thank me? For what?” I turned slowly, searching the overpasses and stairwells. I jammed my finger in my ear and listened hard.
“. . . for springing Reece . . . went to see him . . . duty officer said . . . bailed him out last night. . . .”
“Bailed him out?” A woman in front of me turned to stare.
“. . . trying to call him . . . all night . . . no answer . . . maybe he was with you. . . .” Boarding instructions echoed from the overhead speakers. Someone stepped into the back of my foot.
“. . . any idea where he is? . . .” Gena asked before our connection dropped.