Max took a deep breath, but it didn’t make her feel any calmer. She hadn’t wanted to antagonize Chuck—she liked the guy—but didn’t he see what she saw?
Horn hadn’t impressed her as someone who saw the possibilities of the situation. Max needed something more, something that would convince the police that there was a criminal case to pursue, that three selfish college students had led another student to his death.
She drove past Colorado Springs and continued south, to Cheyenne College.
It was nearly noon when she walked into the bookstore. Jess wasn’t there. She approached the long-haired guy behind the counter. “I’m looking for Jess,” Max said.
“She doesn’t work today.”
“I called earlier. Maxine Revere. Did she get my message?”
“Like I said, she doesn’t work today, and I’m not her personal message service.”
“Do you know where I might find her?”
He sighed dramatically. “I’m not supposed to give out information about students.”
Max didn’t want to line this jerk’s pockets, but she’d paid bigger assholes for information. She slid over a twenty.
“Music theory, Stevenson Hall.”
She didn’t bother to say thank you, and strode over the Stevenson Hall.
By the time she arrived, students were streaming from the building, some carrying instruments, others with the typical backpack or messenger bag. Her height was an advantage, and she stood on a small, decorative bridge that gave her a better vantage point. The gray sky suited her mood.
Max had to convince Jess that her theory was solid. The girl already suspected something went wrong that weekend, even if she didn’t say anything at the time. Maybe Jess didn’t realize she knew something important, or maybe she did but she was too scared to talk.
As the crowd thinned to a trickle, Max grew increasingly discouraged, fearing she’d missed Jess. Then she saw the petite sophomore walking with her head down, her messenger bag slung over her shoulder.
“Jess.”
The girl barely looked at her. “Go away.”
“I can prove they killed Scott.”
Jess stopped, and looked at Max. Tears filled her dark eyes. “Wh-what?”
“They left him on the mountain. I don’t know if it was supposed to be a joke, or if they intended to kill him, but it was malicious and they need to be held accountable.”
“How do you know?”
“I have a photo uploaded to Facebook Saturday morning from a hotel, not from the campground. And Carlos Ibarra signed for a bucket of beer Friday night. I think you know why they didn’t like Scott, why they would pull such a cruel joke that ended up getting him killed. Tell me, Jess. Scott deserves for the truth to be told.”
Jess stood there shivering, but made no move to go inside. “I—I didn’t know.”
“I was with search and rescue when they found Scott’s body yesterday.”
Her eyes widened. “You found him?”
“Huddled in a sleeping bag under a tree. He died there, cold and alone, while Art, Carlos, and Tom were partying it up in a hotel.”
Her lip quivered.
“Why did you stop talking to Art after Scott disappeared?” When Jess didn’t say anything, Max pushed. “You dated him last year.”
“Not for long. He’s an asshole.” Jess took a deep breath; then everything poured out. “His pranks are mean. He told me he found a kitten behind his dorm, then held up this paper bag and threw it in the pond at the quad. I jumped in and it wasn’t a kitten in the bag, it was a rock, and he stood there and laughed at me. Tried to convince me that it was just a joke, that he would never hurt an animal, but I didn’t believe him. I broke up with him and he spread nasty rumors about me. He doesn’t have many friends, except Carlos. I don’t know why people believed him, but you know how people are.”
“Were you and Scott involved?”
“No—maybe we could have been. But we were just friends. I told him not to go camping with Art, that he and Carlos couldn’t be trusted. Once, when Art and I were making out in his dorm room, Carlos jumped out of the closet and they laughed at me. Art had my shirt off, it was so humiliating. I should have broken up with him then, but I believed him when he said he didn’t know. It was only later—” She looked away.
Max reached out and squeezed her arm. “Jess, this isn’t your fault. Art is a bully and enjoys hurting people.”
Max added, “Did Art think that you and Scott were involved?”
She shrugged. “But he’s never hurt anyone. His pranks are just mean.”
“Hurting people doesn’t mean physically hurting them. But this time, with Scott, he went too far. Help me prove it.”
“He’ll never admit it.”
“He doesn’t have to. I need you to get Tom Keller to meet you in your room.”