by Stella Hart
Dad didn’t seem to know any names; only that there were twelve matriarchs or patriarchs from twelve families with vast power and wealth who were responsible for the conspiracy. Unfortunately, that didn’t narrow it down much, because there were hundreds of super-rich and powerful families on this island, and most of them lived in or around Arcadia Bay.
That was basically all I could get from the notes, aside from a few random things that I hadn’t been able to figure out yet. One was a page that simply said ‘IL?’ in large capital letters, which I took as a possible reference to Illinois, or perhaps someone’s initials.
Another page had a drawing of a circle with a dot in the center and twelve dots around the edge, which seemed like a crude image of a clock. I figured it represented the Golden Circle with its twelve main members, but most of the text beneath the drawing had been smeared and faded into blue patches from droplets of water, so I couldn’t know for sure. All I could make out was one word, followed by a few question marks. Bodies???
As I recalled the notes, a surge of adrenaline ran through my body, and I rose to my feet and turned around to look at the bubbling stream behind me. “I’m back, Dad,” I said out loud, lifting my chin. “I’m doing what you asked.”
That was the main reason I moved back to Avalon with my sister. Now that I was older and had a different name, I could live here and blend in with everyone else while I worked on my investigation into Dad’s case.
Even my Blackthorne enrolment was part of my journey toward justice. I always wanted to be a journalist, but there was a specific reason I wanted to study at this exact college. For one, it offered a world-class education in investigative journalism, which would give me the tools and ability to uncover information that may have been out of reach in the past. Also, because Dad used to teach at the college, I’d be able to make connections with his old friends and colleagues, which would hopefully give me more insight into the events of ten years ago. Some of those people—or even just one of them—might know something useful that they never told anyone back in 2009 because they didn’t think it was relevant. Anything could help. Even something small.
Feeling renewed and energized, I headed back over to the campus and grabbed some bags from my car. My assigned dorm was on the top floor of the Redstone residence hall, which was one of many student housing buildings on the campus.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I rounded the corner and smacked into a chest as solid as a wall.
“Sorry,” I murmured, taking a step back. I lifted my chin to see who I’d bumped into and was instantly struck by two stormy blue eyes.
Familiar eyes.
Oh, shit.
It was Nate Lockwood.
Nate was tall and muscle-bound. Gorgeous, too, with an angular jaw, full lips, and dark hair cut short around the sides and long on the top. Right now, his perfect mouth was twisted into a sneer, and his mesmerizing blue eyes were staring down at me with obvious disdain flickering in them.
I wasn’t surprised. Nate and I had a short but checkered history.
When I moved back to the island for answers, part of my initial investigation technique involved breaking into the homes of Arcadia Bay’s wealthiest families in the hope of finding something—anything—that could link them to my father or the Golden Circle he spoke of.
Illegal? Of course. Necessary? I thought so, yes.
The Lockwoods were one of the island’s oldest and most powerful families, so their property was one of the first I sneaked onto to poke around. Rich people were notoriously stingy, and the security measures they had were usually easy enough to get around. The Lockwood mansion was no different. I made it inside one rainy night five weeks ago, and then I made my way up to Francis Lockwood’s study on the fourth floor.
Francis was Nate’s father. He was killed in a car accident several years ago, but I had a feeling that he might be one of the people my father referred to in his old notes. When I rifled through his study in the mansion that night, I found a 2009 diary which had Dad’s name in it, along with his home and office address.
A few minutes after I found that diary, Nate came into the study and caught me. I managed to get away from him, but I dropped my phone and didn’t realize until it was too late.
At the time, I thought I was totally screwed, but instead of calling the police, Nate tracked me down and contacted me with an offer—a dinner date in return for my phone. No cops.
I went along with it, desperate to stay out of trouble, but Nate never showed up to our date. He simply gave my phone to the restaurant hostess to pass on to me, and then he left me sitting there like an idiot for an hour, all alone. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
Until now.
He stared down at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alexis,” he said stiffly.
“Uh… hey,” I said, taking a slight step back to put some more space between us. “What are you doing here?”
“Just dropping off a gift for a friend who lives up here,” he replied, eyes still flashing with irritation at the sight of me. There was a hint of amusement in the curve of his lips, though, which confused me but also gave me hope. Maybe he didn’t totally hate my guts.
“Oh, cool,” I said. My cheeks had grown hot, and I prayed that I wasn’t visibly turning red. “I’m moving in here. Starting my degree on Monday.”
His lips tightened. “You shouldn’t.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Redstone Hall?”
“I meant you shouldn’t be here at all,” he said, eyes narrowing. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck off this island and never come back.”
Okay, I was wrong. He did hate me.
I sighed and took another step backward, forehead creasing in a frown. “Look, Nate, I get why you don’t like me, okay? Really. I did something wrong, and you caught me,” I said. “But remember, it was your idea to arrange that dinner date, and it was your idea to give back the only piece of evidence you had that actually connected me to what I did that night.”
He arched a brow. “And?”
“I’m just saying, if you really had that much of a problem with me, then you should’ve just called the police and turned me in,” I said, lifting my chin higher.
Before I could even take my next breath, Nate grabbed my shoulders and roughly pushed me up against the nearest brick wall, making me drop my bags in shock.
He lowered his mouth to my left ear. “I’ve got much bigger plans for you than that, Alexis,” he said. His voice was soft yet cruel and menacing. “You should try to remember that.”
I gulped as my mind whirled with a mixture of fear and confusion. Nate’s hot breath on my skin was making my core clench like a fist, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the electric charge between us; the same intrinsic pull I felt the first time we saw each other in that elegant study. At the same time, I felt rage radiating off him like heat from a furnace. I honestly couldn’t tell if he wanted to fuck me or fight me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another student walk around the corner with a box in his arms. He threw a wary glance in our direction, as if he were worried that Nate was attacking me but unsure if he should intervene.
Nate noticed too, and he drew back and smiled, gaze raking over my face. “I’ll see you later,” he said, sounding friendly now. His eyes remained cold, letting me know that his pleasant expression and tone were only for the benefit of the guy walking past us.
I sucked down a deep breath as he turned and strode away. For a moment I was stuck in place, like his hand was some kind of freeze-ray that had sucked all the warmth out of my body, leaving me helpless and immobile.
When he was out of sight, I crouched and picked up my bags, heart hammering.
“Asshole,” I muttered. Nate had every right to dislike me, but he didn’t have to shove me up against walls and try to intimidate me into leaving the island. He could just ignore me.
>
I tried my best to ignore the dark and twisted feelings that the incident had stirred up deep inside me. I always reacted that way around big, strong men with low voices and intense, angry stares. It made my knees go weak as coldness slithered down my spine; a wildly intoxicating blend of fear and arousal that made me want the guy to grab me and pin me against a wall. Own me and control me. Maybe even hurt me a little. It was like all sense of reason floated right out of my body when it happened, leaving behind nothing but primal desire.
No. Fuck Nate Lockwood, I told myself. I didn’t want him. It was just a physical reaction mixed up with a dark fantasy that would lie dormant until the end of time.
On shaky legs, I headed down the hall to find a dorm marked 3C. There was something sitting on the floor right in front of it.
I dropped my bags and knelt to get a better look. On the doormat was an enormous box of chocolates with a folded note taped onto the front. A few inches away from that, there was a domed glass container packed with crimson roses. A matching crimson bow had been wrapped around the container, just below the gorgeous blooms, and a little card had been propped up in front of it.
I looked at the card first. It was a note from the florist who’d arranged the roses, letting me know that they were a special kind called Everlasting Roses. They’d been treated with chemicals that would ensure they would never wilt and die, as long as I left them in the protective glass dome.
With furrowed brows, I opened the handwritten note on the front of the chocolate box. It was from my mother.
Alexis,
Just wanted to send you a little something to let you know how proud I am of you. Study hard, but remember to have some fun as well! Also, please remember to keep yourself safe.
Love,
Mom
PS: Please don’t call and thank me for this. I already feel a little soppy and silly for sending something so over the top, so you’ll only embarrass me or make me blubber like a baby. Haha :) Enjoy the chocolates! Xoxo
I smiled at the postscript. The gifts really were quite over the top. The box contained at least two hundred decadent liqueur-filled chocolates in several different flavors, and the huge bouquet of Everlasting Roses must’ve cost at least a thousand dollars.
Footsteps alerted me to a nearby presence, and I looked up to see a girl arriving at the dorm next to mine. She had short brown hair and pretty hazel eyes.
“Hi,” she said, flashing me a smile. Her eyes skated over the gifts. “Are all of those for you?”
I nodded and rose to my feet. “Yeah, it’s all from my mom. She’s gone a bit overboard.”
“At least she cares. My parents didn’t even text me to see if I arrived on the island safely.”
My face fell. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to it,” she replied with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m Claire.”
“Alexis. Nice to meet you.”
“You too. Looks like we’re neighbors for the semester,” she said. “What are you studying?”
“Journalism. You?”
“English.”
“Cool. We’ll probably have a few of the same classes,” I said. I tilted my head to the side. “I’m guessing from what you said earlier that you’re not from Avalon?”
“No. I’m from Chicago, and I don’t know anyone here, so I’m pretty nervous about everything.”
“I’m nervous too,” I said. “But hey, you know me now. Seeing as we’ll be living right next door to each other, we can totally hang out if you want.”
She smiled again. “That’d be great. Do you want to check out the dining hall with me later?”
“Sure.”
“How about six? I’ve got a ton of unpacking to do, but I should be done by then.”
“Me too. See you then.”
I spent the next few hours trudging back and forth between my dorm and my car, arms laden with bags and boxes. When they were all safely within the confines of my dorm room, I started unpacking them.
I’d already purchased my entire required reading list for the semester, so those books went on the shelf above the desk on the left side of the room, a few feet away from the queen-sized bed. A door on the other side of the room led to a small but well-appointed bathroom with every amenity I could possibly need and plenty of space for my hair, skin, and makeup products.
On the right wall was a white armoire and a tall set of drawers for my clothing, along with an accent table for odds and ends. I put the glass dome of roses on the accent table, making sure the pretty bow faced my bed so I had something nice to look at before I drifted off to sleep every night.
When most of my stuff was unpacked, I yawned and headed over to the window on the far side of the room. The island was beautiful at this time of the day, lit up by the glow of the dying sun. It was a shame that such a nice place hid a festering underbelly of rot and evil.
Checking the clock, I saw that it was almost six, so I grabbed a coat and scarf and wandered outside to meet Claire. We walked down to the large, lavish dining hall together and spent the next couple of hours chatting and laughing as if we were old friends. I was relieved to have met someone I got along with before the semester officially started, because Blackthorne had a reputation for snobbery, and I’d arrived here with a nagging worry that I wouldn’t make any friends at all.
Just after half past eight, we returned to our respective rooms. As soon as I was inside, I gave Sascha a quick call to wish her good luck for her date. We didn’t talk for long, because she was about to head out, but she was happy to hear that everything was going well for me here and that I’d already made a new friend in Claire.
After we ended the call, I finally finished unpacking the last of my boxes. When I was almost done, I happened to look over at my empty desk, and with a sudden jolt, I realized I’d forgotten to do something important.
Every week, I ran a short ad in the classified section of Avalon’s main newspaper.
If you have any information about PETER JOHN COVINGTON of Thunder Bay, Avalon Island, please contact 410-565-0143.
I knew it was a long shot, but lots of people still read newspapers instead of using online news services, and I figured that there might be someone out there who knew something that could help me in my investigation. They might’ve been too scared to say anything back in 2009, but now that ten years had passed, they could be willing to speak up.
I was supposed to call or email my contact at the newspaper every week to confirm the renewal of the ad, and I usually got in early and did it on a Friday. Today was Saturday, and the cutoff was midnight.
“Shit,” I muttered, casting my eyes around the room. Where the hell did I put my laptop bag? It was nowhere to be seen.
I pulled my phone out to call Sascha again, figuring I must’ve accidentally left the bag behind at our apartment.
There was a text notification from her sitting on the screen. She’d messaged me about an hour ago, just after we ended our last call.
Hey! OMG I’m such an idiot. I told you I was going to put your computer in that big box when I was taking stuff down to your car earlier, and I totally thought I did, but I just realized it’s still sitting on the dining table. I must’ve forgotten. I’m so sorry!
I sighed. I really needed my laptop, and that meant I had to drive all the way back to Avalon City tonight.
Coming to get it now, I wrote back to Sascha. Have fun on your date!
She didn’t reply, so I figured she was already out with the guy.
By the time I made it back up to the city, it was already half past ten. With a yawn, I headed up to the apartment and let myself in. There were voices coming from the living room, so I guessed Sascha’s date had gone well and she’d brought the guy home to hang out.
When I stepped out of the foyer, I realized the voices were coming from the TV. An old episode of Forensic Files was playing on Netflix.
Sascha wasn’t watching it. She was fast asleep on the sofa in a black midi dress. O
ne stiletto shoe was dangling off her right foot, while the left lay on its side on the floor. Her hair was mussed, and her makeup was partially smeared on one eye. Two Chinese food cartons, several crumpled chocolate wrappers, and an open wine bottle sat on the coffee table in front of her.
I raised an eyebrow. “Guess the date didn’t go well, then,” I murmured to myself.
I grabbed a blanket from the other sofa and carefully placed it over Sascha. Then I tiptoed over to the dining area and retrieved my laptop from its bag. I quickly logged in and emailed the guy at the newspaper about my ad renewal.
“Done,” I whispered, shoulders slumping with relief. I needed a coffee before I headed back to Blackthorne, though, or else I might fall asleep at the wheel and skid right off the road.
I quietly made an espresso in the kitchen. While I sipped it, I wandered over to Sascha’s painting area that stood in a nook just off the living room. She had a new canvas on an easel, and her latest piece was some sort of abstract splashed with red, gold, black, white, and gray. I usually didn’t like abstract stuff very much, but I had to admit that this one was gorgeous.
Cocking my head slightly to one side, I decided that I needed a painting or two to add a splash of color to the bare cream walls of my new dorm. I had a couple of Sascha’s completed pieces in my bedroom, so I figured I might as well go and get them while I was here.
I padded down the hall. When I reached my bedroom, I stopped in my tracks, suddenly feeling cold in a way that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
When I left earlier, my room was neat and tidy. Now it was strewn with papers and open books.
I took a slow step forward, focusing on my desk. Above it, I had a ‘murder board’ with everything related to my dad’s case—photos, Post-Its, newspaper articles, and my own scrawled notes on the whiteboard beneath. If it had red strings connecting some of the photos and notes, it would look like something out of a crime thriller movie.
