CHAPTER FIVE

The next morning Riley sat in the university auditorium along with other glum-looking students. Although the general campus mood was depressed, she had to wonder if everybody else there felt as miserable as she did. She thought that some of them looked more annoyed than saddened. A few seemed nervous, as though they were frightened by every movement around them.

How do we ever get over something like this? she wondered.

But of course, not everyone had been close to Rhea. Not everyone had even known her. They would surely be horrified at the thought of a murder on campus, but for many of them it wouldn’t be personal.

It was personal for Riley. She couldn’t shake off the horror that had hit her at the sight of Rhea’s …

She couldn’t bring herself to think the words she needed. She couldn’t yet think of her friend as a dead body, in spite of what she had seen last night.

The all-campus assembly today seemed completely disconnected from what had happened. It also seemed to be dragging on forever, making her feel even worse.

Chief Hintz had just finished giving a stern lecture about campus safety and promising the killer would soon be apprehended, and now Dean Trusler was going on and on about how to get things back to normal here at Lanton University.

Good luck with that, Riley thought.

Classes were canceled for today, Trusler said, but they would resume on Monday. He said he understood if some students might not feel ready to go back to classes so soon, and also if some of them might want to go home to be with their families for a few days, and the school’s counselors were ready to help everybody deal with this horrible trauma, and … and … and …

Riley tuned out and stifled a yawn as the dean rattled earnestly on, not saying anything useful as far as she was concerned. She’d barely slept at all last night. She had just drifted off to sleep when the medical examiner’s team had noisily arrived. Then she’d stood in her doorway watching in silent horror as the team carted away a sheet-covered form on a gurney.

Surely, she’d thought, that can’t be someone who was laughing and dancing hours ago. That can’t really be Rhea.

Riley hadn’t gone to sleep at all after that. She couldn’t help but envy Trudy, who seemed to have been out cold the whole night—probably, Riley guessed, from all the alcohol she had consumed earlier.

Early this morning the dorm resident assistant had announced this meeting over the intercom. Trudy had still been in bed when Riley left. When Riley had come to the assembly, she hadn’t seen Trudy anywhere in the auditorium.

Riley looked around now, but still didn’t spot her. Maybe she was still in bed.

She’s not missing much, Riley thought.

She also didn’t see Rhea’s roommate, Heather, anywhere. But Gina and Cassie were sitting a couple of rows ahead of her. They’d brushed past Riley on the way in to the meeting—apparently still mad at her for giving their names to the cops.

Last night Riley had understood why they might feel that way, but now it was starting to seem childish. It was also extremely hurtful. She wondered if her friendships were ever going to mend.

Right now, that “normal” the dean was talking about seemed gone forever.

At long last the meeting came to an end. As the students poured out of the building, reporters were waiting outside. Right away they descended on Gina and Cassie, asking them all kinds of questions. Riley guessed that they’d managed to find out who Rhea’s companions had been that night before her murder.

If so, they probably knew about Riley too. But so far they hadn’t spotted her. Maybe it was a lucky thing that Gina and Cassie had brushed Riley off this morning. Otherwise, she’d be right there with them, stuck answering impossible questions.

Riley quickened her step to avoid the reporters, wending her way among the other students. As she went, she could hear the reporters prodding Gina and Cassie over and over with the same question …

“How do you feel?”

Riley felt a tingle of anger.

What kind of question is that? she wondered.

What did they expect Gina and Cassie to say in reply?

Riley had no idea what she herself would say—except maybe to tell the reporters to leave her the hell alone.

She was still awash in confused and terrible feelings—numbing shock, lingering disbelief, gnawing horror, and so much else. The worst feeling of all was a kind of guilty relief that she hadn’t met Rhea’s fate.

How could she or her friends put any of that into words?

What business did anyone have asking them that, anyway?

Riley made her way to the cafeteria in the student union. She hadn’t had any breakfast yet, and was just starting to realize she was hungry. At the buffet she scooped up some bacon and eggs and poured herself some orange juice and coffee. Then she looked around for a place to sit.

Her eyes quickly fell on Trudy, who was sitting alone at a table, facing away from the others in the room and eating her own breakfast.

Riley gulped anxiously.

Did she dare try to join Trudy at the table?

Would Trudy even talk to her?

They hadn’t exchanged a single word since last night when Trudy had bitterly told Riley to go to sleep.

Riley summoned up her courage and maneuvered her way across the room to Trudy’s table. Without saying anything, she put her tray on the table and sat down beside her roommate.

For a few moments Trudy kept her head low, as if she didn’t notice Riley’s presence.

Finally, without looking at Riley, Trudy said, “I decided to skip the meeting. How was it?”

“It sucked,” Riley said. “I should have skipped it too.”

She thought for a moment, then added, “Heather wasn’t there either.”

“No,” Trudy said. “I hear her parents came this morning and took her straight home. I guess nobody knows when she’ll be coming back to school—or even if she’ll be coming back.”

Trudy finally looked at Riley and said, “Did you hear about what happened to Rory Burdon?”

Riley remembered how Hintz had asked her about Rory last night.

“No,” she said.

“The cops showed up at his apartment late last night pounding on his door. Rory had no idea what was going on. He didn’t even know what had happened to Rhea. He was scared to death he was going to get arrested, and he didn’t even know why. The cops questioned him until they eventually figured out that he wasn’t their guy, and then they left.”

Trudy shrugged slightly and added, “The poor guy. I shouldn’t have mentioned his name to that stupid police chief. But he just kept asking all these questions, I didn’t know what else to say.”

A silence fell between them. Riley found herself thinking about Ryan Paige, and how she’d mentioned his name to Hintz. Had the cops also paid Ryan a visit last night? It didn’t seem unlikely, but Riley hoped not.

Anyway, she felt relieved that Trudy was at least willing to talk to her. Maybe now Riley could explain.

She said slowly, “Trudy, when the cops first got there, that woman cop asked me what I knew, and I couldn’t lie about it. I had to say you’d been out last night with Rhea. I also had to tell her about Cassie and Gina and Heather.”

Trudy nodded. “I get it, Riley. You don’t need to explain. I understand. And I’m sorry … I’m sorry I treated you like …”

Suddenly Trudy was quietly sobbing, her tears falling freely into her breakfast tray.

She said, “Riley, was it my fault? What happened to Rhea, I mean?”

Riley could hardly believe her ears.

“What are you talking about, Trudy? Of course not. How could it be your fault?”

“Well, I was so stupid and drunk last night, and I wasn’t paying any attention to what was going on, and I don’t even remember when Rhea left the Centaur’s Den. The other girls said she left alone. Maybe if I …”

Trudy’s voice faded away, but Riley knew what she was leaving unsaid …

“… maybe if I’d just walked Rhea home.”

And Riley, too, felt a terrible pang of guilt.

After all, she might well ask herself the same question.

If she hadn’t gone off by herself at the Centaur’s Den, and if she’d been around when Rhea got ready to leave, and if she’d offered to walk Rhea home …

That word, if …

Riley had never imagined how awful a word could be.

Trudy kept crying quietly, and Riley didn’t know what to do to make her feel better.

She half-wondered why she wasn’t crying herself.

Of course, she had cried in her own bed last night. But surely she hadn’t cried enough—not over something this terrible. Surely there was still more crying in store for her.

She sat picking at her breakfast as Trudy wiped her eyes and blew her nose and settled herself down a bit.

Trudy said, “Riley, the thing I keep wondering is why? Why Rhea, I mean? Was it something personal? Did somebody hate her enough to kill her? I don’t see how that’s even possible. Nobody hated Rhea. Why would anybody hate Rhea?”

Riley didn’t reply, but she’d been wondering the same thing. She also wondered whether the cops had found any answers yet.

Trudy continued, “And was it somebody we know who killed her? Is maybe one of us next? Riley, I’m scared.”

Again, Riley didn’t reply.

She felt sure, though, that Rhea had known her murderer. She didn’t know why she was sure—it wasn’t like she was a cop or knew anything really about criminals. But something in her gut told her that Rhea had known and trusted her killer—right up until it had been too late to save herself.

Trudy looked at Riley steadily, then said, “You don’t seem to be scared.”

Riley felt taken aback.

For the first time, it dawned on her …

No, I’m not scared.

She’d been feeling every other sort of awful emotion in the world—guilt, grief, shock—and yes, horror. But her horror was somehow different from fear for her own life. The horror she felt was for Rhea herself, horror at the awfulness of what had happened to her.

But Riley wasn’t afraid.

She wondered—was it because of what had happened to her mother all those years ago, the sound of that gunshot, the sight of all that blood, the incomprehensible loss she still struggled with even today?

Had the most terrible trauma she had ever suffered made her stronger than other people?

For some reason, she almost hoped not. It didn’t seem quite right to be strong like that, strong in ways that other people weren’t.

It just didn’t seem quite …

It took Riley a few seconds to think of the word.

Human.

She shivered just a little, then said to Trudy, “I’m heading back to the dorm. I really need to get some sleep. Want to come with me?”

Trudy shook her head.

“I just want to sit here for a while,” she said.

Riley got up from her chair and gave Trudy a quick hug. Then she emptied her breakfast tray and left the student union. It wasn’t a long walk back to the dorm, and she was relieved not to see any reporters along the way. When she got to the front door of the dorm, she paused for a moment. Now it occurred to her why Trudy hadn’t wanted to come back with her right now. She just wasn’t ready to face the dorm again.

As Riley stood at the door, she too felt weird about it. Of course, she’d spent the night there. She lived there.

But having spent some time outside, where a return to normality had been declared, was she ready to go back inside the building where Rhea had been killed?

She took a deep breath and walked on in through the front door.

At first she thought she felt OK. But as she continued into the hallway, the feeling of strangeness deepened. Riley felt as if she were walking and moving underwater. She headed straight to her own room and was about to open the door when her eyes were drawn toward the room farther down the hallway, the room that Rhea and Heather had shared.

She walked to it and saw that the door was shut and sealed off with police tape.

Riley stood there, suddenly feeling horribly curious.

What did it look like in there right now?

Had the room been cleaned up since she’d last seen it?

Or was Rhea’s blood still there?

Riley was seized by an awful temptation—to ignore that tape and open that door and walk right inside.

She knew better than to give in to that temptation. And of course the door would be locked.

But even so …

Why do I feel this way?

She stood there, trying to understand this mysterious urge. She began to realize—it had something to do with the killer himself.

She couldn’t help thinking …

If I open that door, I’ll be able to look into his mind.