My eyes lock on a burly man posted by my door, wearing a bored expression and a SECURITY badge. So this must be who Detective Kimble and Officer Ladge were talking about yesterday. He seems effective enough already—yesterday’s gaggle of girls are now gone.
But he’s not the only stranger. Another man, this one much more polished and wearing a suit and tie, follows my mom into the room uninvited.
“?’Scuse me, who are you?” I ask, giving Mom a bewildered look.
“Sorry, honey, I should have introduced you.” She steps between me and the suited man. “This is attorney John Sanford. I know him from the office, and he’s agreed to represent you pro bono, thank God for his kindness.”
A chill runs through me.
“A lawyer? Already? I’m not in trouble.” Yet.
John Sanford steps forward, shaking my hand.
“At this point, since you’re a person of interest in the Chace Porter case, I’m afraid you need legal counsel immediately. I understand you’ve already spoken to the police?”
I nod.
“They searched my room, too.” At the look of alarm on my mother’s and the lawyer’s faces, I quickly add, “They had a warrant.”
Mr. Sanford rubs his chin, thinking.
“What time is your first class, Nicole?”
“It’s at eight-thirty, but…am I really going?” The idea of sitting in a classroom seems ludicrous at a time like this.
“You have a Juilliard scholarship to maintain,” Mom warns me. “You can’t afford to let anything throw you off your game. Not even this.”
After my visit—or vision—from Chace last night, everything else pales in comparison. Juilliard, my music, all my old dreams feel like they belong to someone else. Is there even a point to it all anymore?
As if she can read my thoughts, Mom grabs my shoulders, gazing into my eyes.
“Nicole, this is what you love, what you breathe. You’ve been working all these years to get here. One day, impossible as it may seem right now, you will recover from all that’s happening, but you may never get over the regret if you choose to let your dream slip through your fingers. Trust me on this. I had to struggle my way through adulthood, but you don’t. Not with a talent like yours.”
My eyes find my violin case across the room, and the pang in my chest confirms my mother’s words. Of course she’s right. The world can take nearly everything away from me—my face, my friends, my love—but as long as I have my music, I have something worth living and fighting for. I have a purpose.
“Okay,” I finally reply. “I’ll go to my classes. But it’s not going to be pretty.”
Mom squeezes my hand.
“I’m proud of you, honey. We’ll get through this together.”
“Your mother is right. And the more normal your day-to-day life can be, the less suspicious things will look,” Mr. Sanford adds.
My cheeks burn.
“There’s nothing suspicious going on.”
“I understand. But when you’re hiding out in your dorm and skipping classes, it could look like you have something to hide,” he says pointedly. “Now, I suggest the three of us get out of these tight quarters and find a place to get breakfast before your first class. You can fill me in on your conversations with the police there.”
“I should probably tell you something before we go.” I swallow hard. “Chace’s parents asked Detective Kimble to arrange a meeting with me today. I’m supposed to meet them after my classes are over.”
Mom and Mr. Sanford exchange a worried look.
“Right. Well, there’s no way you’re doing that alone,” Mr. Sanford says.
“What if they just want to meet the girl who was…who meant something to their son?” I ask hopefully, though after what I overheard last night, I’m not so sure. “Wouldn’t it look weird for me to bring a chaperone if that’s all it is?”
He gives me a grim smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Nicole, I’m afraid from here on out, you’re going to have to assume that no one’s intentions are that innocent. The congressman and his wife are grieving parents who need someone to blame. You can’t be too careful.”
Nicole, Stephanie, and I stretch our legs across the leather banquettes on the mezzanine landing of my family’s DC town house, watching the preparations taking place in the foyer below for tonight’s New Year’s Eve party. Uniformed men are rolling up carpets, pushing back furniture, and assembling round tables and banquet chairs, while a small army of florists darts around in different directions, arranging table centerpieces and draping garlands from the twin Baccarat chandeliers dangling from the ceiling.