by Eryn Scott
If I could use this to convince Alex and his dad to look into Professor Garrison's bank history, I was sure they would find tickets to The 5th Avenue on the night of Katie's murder.
13
Liv dragged me out of the English building exactly seven minutes later. Besides confirming Garrison was very likely the person who'd accompanied Mindy to Seattle on Sunday, Fergie also told us she highly doubted the man was a killer.
"A ridiculous flirt and an idiot to put his reputation on the line like this, but no, not a murderer," Fergie had said.
Once we were outside, I pulled in a deep breath. "Okay, now we just need to show this inscription to Alex and convince him he cannot arrest Professor Garrison."
Liv stuck a hand on her hip. "All while continuing this ruse that you aren't getting involved in this case," she deadpanned. "I didn't know you were a magician."
Cocking an eyebrow, I gave her attitude right back. "Or we could use our time talking about why you lied earlier about why you're all dressed up today." I kept my eyes locked on hers.
"On second thought." Liv squinted down at her watch and then looked off in the distance. "I think I have to get going. Forgot—have a thing! See you later!" she called over her shoulder as she hightailed it away from me.
"Some hot Watson you are," I grumbled at her retreating form, pulling out my phone. Grimacing at the screen for a good few seconds, I finally began to type a message to Alex.
"Don't be mad."
That was all I sent. Baby steps, right? Alex texted back almost immediately.
"Pepper…"
I could almost hear the frustration lacing my name, as if all of the questions he wanted to ask me were rolled into that one word.
"It's about the case. It's important. I'm sorry, but I got involved."
I sent the text quickly, before I changed my mind.
"Library in ten," was his response.
Well, that was something. At least he was willing to talk to me. I bit my lip and texted a quick reply.
"K."
I repeated my evidence—and my apology—during the walk to the library. My fingers lingered on the cool glass of the door as I walked inside. Stopping for a moment, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath like I always did when I walked into this building. The warm, earthy smell of yellowed pages and stiff bindings wrapped itself around me.
Quickly scanning the lower floor, I concluded he wasn't at any of my normal spots. I scaled the spiral staircase and felt my stomach tighten into knots as I threaded through the tall bookshelves to the back wall. Acting on a guess, I looked left as I emerged from the classics aisle. Small, Dark, and Red—the two-seater table in the back corner with the tiny red lamp. Perfect for couples, perfect for privacy, and where Alex and I had experienced our first kiss, so many months ago.
My heart ached as I longed for that time, for the hope I'd felt that day. Alex was sitting in the same place he'd been, but oh-so-much had changed. Despite my worries and wishes and regrets, I walked forward. Alex caught me with those dark eyes, holding them tight to me as I approached.
"Hey there." I perched on the edge of the seat across from him, peeking up every few seconds. "How's it going?"
Alex sighed. "It's going. It'd be a lot better if I didn't have to worry about you putting yourself in danger by getting involved in this investigation."
My face contorted into a scowl. This felt like old Alex, like the head-butting we'd done for the first few weeks I'd known him. And I was about to revert back to my defensive ways when his face softened.
"Sorry," he added. "You're just trying to help. Like when you told me about Katie's pregnancy. It's important to the case, even if she didn't turn out to be. I didn't mean to be rude. I just worry about you." He covered my hand with his and I felt us fall back into our comfortable closeness.
My shoulders relaxed as I let go of the breath I'd been holding. Looking up, I blurted out everything. "I honestly have been trying to stay away, but people keep telling me stuff and I think either I'm reading too much Hemingway or there's something literary connecting these two. It's just outside my reach, though, and I can't quite put my finger on it, but—" I paused to look left and right, making sure no one was within earshot, then I leaned in close. "You guys have the wrong guy."
"We do?" Alex asked. "Since when do you know what guy we have?"
Shaking my head noncommittally, I waved a hand in the air. "Oh, just an educated guess." Looking around, I added, "Garrison" out of the corner of my mouth. "You think he's your guy, but he's not."
"Oh, and why's that?" Alex sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
My fingers grasped at the air for a moment, wishing I had the evidence here with me, but I went on anyway. "Even though Garrison was dating both of the victims, well, had at one point and even though he lied about his alibi..."
I cleared my throat. Listing out the evidence against him made me doubt everything for a second, but I found my point again and kept on.
"He couldn't have killed Katie because he wasn't even in Pine Crest that night. Mindy's planner, the one you guys have back at the station, said—"
"Wait. What do you know about that planner?" Alex asked, interrupting me.
"I may or may not have peeked in before Nate handed it over to you." I bared my teeth in an apology smile.
Alex shook his head, but stayed quiet, so I continued.
"She wrote that she was going to see The Great Comet with The Music Man on Sunday night at the 5th Avenue in Seattle."
"And those are?" Alex asked, face still frustratingly unreadable.
"Musicals. Er—one of them is." I closed my eyes for a second. "Well, both of them are, but there's no way they could see both of them in one night, nor does that theater do double features. The Music Man is what students who take Garrison's theater classes call him because he loves musicals. Mindy went to see Natasha and Pierre and The Great Comet with Garrison the night Katie was murdered. He couldn't have—"
Alex held out a hand to stop me. "Wait. Who are Natasha and Pierre? Where'd they come from?"
"Characters from War and Peace—it's complicated. That's the full title of the musical, I was just shortening it before."
Alex nodded, but he still looked unsure.
I continued. "There's no way Garrison made it back that night. Which..." I circled my hands in the air in front of me. "This is when you say, 'which means he can't be the killer'..." I said.
Alex lowered his chin, unamused.
Rolling my eyes at his unwillingness to play along, I said, "Before you arrest him, you've got to check his bank account. There's got to be some kind of charge for the tickets or dinner or a hotel."
Alex sat forward. "Okay. We're getting our search warrant from the judge first thing in the morning." He shook his head and mumbled something about small towns. "Will you feel better if I say we'll look for those things?"
I nodded. "Much."
"And finally stay out of this? For good?"
I bit my lip. I didn't want to lie to Alex. "Um... I was thinking that maybe I could help with..." My words petered out as I watched Alex's head move from side to side. "But I was serious about the Hemingway stuff. I really think there's something there. I can help you with that. And Garrison. My sister starred in a few of his productions. I could help you talk to him."
Alex sighed. "Pepper, I'm sorry I let you get involved during the case last fall. I wasn't part of the force yet and I didn't realize how bad of an idea that was."
I frowned.
"Not because you weren't a help," Alex added quickly. "But you're not trained like we are. And to make matters worse, this time we're talking about a serial murderer."
"Yeah," I said, the word short and indignant. "I know. And one of the victims was someone I knew. I want to catch this person as much as you guys do." My frustration began to manifest itself as a tightness in my chest, a growing heat in my cheeks.
Alex clenched his jaw tightly as he listened to my rant. After I
finished, he simply shook his head and said, "Pepper, I'm not going to have this conversation with you."
Suddenly all I could focus on was the other conversation we weren't having, hadn't had in the months since our first kiss in this exact place.
"Oh, okay—yeah—I see how it is." The words spilled angrily out of me, much too loud for the quiet library. "That's how it goes around here. Alex will solve things, he'll handle it. Except when he doesn't." Scared that I'd gotten too close to the actual issue, I added, "And ends up arresting the wrong man."
Alex's face darkened with each of my angry exclamations. He fumed in a steamy silence for a few seconds. If he'd stayed quiet for two more seconds, I would've cooled down, the reality of what I'd said would've settled over me, and I probably would've apologized.
But that's not how our argument worked.
He scoffed and lashed back at me with a quick, "Right. And maybe if I didn't care about following the law I could be just as good a detective as you." Alex rolled his eyes and stood up. "The station's under an immense amount much pressure from the university board and the town—not to mention the fact that we want to catch this creep as much as anyone. Thanks for the tip, but seriously, stay out of this, Brooks. From now on. And maybe take a break from all of the Hemingway." He left, the word ridiculous trailing behind as he strode out of sight.
Closing my eyes for a few seconds, I did some deep breathing to calm myself down. My heart hammered in my chest as if it were trying to break free and follow him.
I knew the fight had been petty. I knew it hadn't been about this case. I knew I was just as much to blame for the fact we had yet to talk about where we stood, what we wanted.
But knowing all of that didn't take away the sting of watching him storm away from me and it didn't stop my anger toward him from growing on my walk—okay, it was more of a stomp—back to my apartment.
Both Liv and Hammy jumped when I slammed our front door behind me. Hammy barked, waking up from what looked like a deep sleep. Liv was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her laptop perched atop her knees. Gone was the business suit, traded in for a baggy NWU T-shirt and leggings.
Hammy sprinted over, tongue lolling as she smiled up at me. I knelt down and picked my dog up, hugging her to me.
"So I'm guessing that didn't go well." She set her computer aside and patted the cushion next to her.
I flopped onto the couch face first. "Nope," I said, the word muffled in the fabric and batting. Peeling my head up, I made my best pouty face. "I ended up starting some sort of awful yelling match—in the library," I added. Hamburger jumped up and licked my cheek.
Liv sighed and patted the top of my head. "You've always had a hot temper. He knows that. He'll forgive you."
Eyes narrowing, my anger rose up again, renewed. "I'm the one who needs to forgive him, though. I helped them solve Dr. Campbell's murder. I'm not useless. And I most likely stopped them from arresting an innocent man. But what thanks do I get?"
Sensing my question was rhetorical, Liv sat quietly for a second. Her voice, tenuous after my rant, tiptoed out after a moment, asking, "Well then, maybe you should take Fergie's advice and solve it. You're the reason she didn't die last fall, Pepper. If this person's killed two students already, there's a good possibility there'll be a third. You can stop it. Do it for Katie." While her voice had grown louder as her speech went on, Liv all-but whispered that last sentence, making my eyes flash up to meet hers.
"You know what?" I said, standing up. "I think I just might. If Alex isn't going to listen to me, I'm going to solve this case before someone else gets killed."
Liv widened her eyes and then ran off to get something in her bedroom. Hamburger ran around her, barking excitedly when she reemerged. It was the suspect list she'd started the other night.
Grabbing it triumphantly, I nodded and sat down on the couch. "Okay, let's see." I picked up a pen and added what we knew.
Liv had written down the Garrisons and Sam. I separated the married couple into "Mister and Missus" and crossed out Mister Garrison. Next to Missus Garrison, I wrote, "Lied about alibi." I needed to remember to ask Carson about that, since I'd directed him to Alex before when I hadn't wanted to get involved. Then, next to Sam's name, I added in Was down by Campus Creek the night Katie was murdered.
Looking over my shoulder, Liv said, "I still maintain the Garrisons could be working together." She tsked, pointing to the line I'd drawn through his name. "But Sam does look like our best bet at this point. I wonder if he has an alibi for last night."
I was wondering the exact same thing.
14
I overanalyzed my fight with Alex all weekend, but come Monday morning, it was actually Liv's words about Sam I couldn't let go. I already knew Victoria had placed him at the crime scene the night of Katie's murder, but Liv was right, I needed to know where he was when Mindy had been killed.
So when I walked into the student center before my first class and caught sight of Sam Delaney sitting alone at a table in the dining hall, I headed over to him. Without a thought—actually, I'm pretty sure there was a voice in my head egging me on with a "go get him!"—I strode up and then sat down across from him.
He glanced up, forehead creased in question as his eyes swept over me. I waited for any evidence of recognition on his face, but he didn't appear to remember me from the other day at Bittersweet.
I quickly realized that I didn't have any shape or form of a plan. So when an idea came to me, I ran with it.
Before he could say anything, I blurted out, "Looks like you're getting what you wanted."
His blond eyebrows raised. "And what did I want?" The slimy way he asked it made my skin crawl.
"Rumors are that the dean is actually taking this water issue seriously." I was grasping, sure, but I figured it wasn't a lie. Students showing up drowned in the water was an issue and I was sure our dean was taking it very seriously.
Sam tipped his head to the side. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. That's what you were trying to achieve, right?" I held his intense gaze even though it felt like I was holding a pan straight from the oven—without a mitt.
"It's about time." He scoffed.
Digging myself deeper, I pulled out a notebook from my bag, then clicked open a pen. "Can I quote you on that? I'm from The Frond." I didn't feel one ounce of regret pretending to be one of them—it served them right for printing unsubstantiated gossip just to sell papers.
Apparently I wasn't the only one harboring ill feelings toward the newspaper because at the mention of that punch-line-of-a-periodical, Sam's face darkened and he leaned forward.
"Oh, so we're asking permission now?" Sam's face contorted into a sadistic smile. "I'm not talking to you after what you guys pulled." He leaned in closer, "I had to do some pretty quick thinking when someone told me about that 'quote' you'd gotten from me. Funny, I don't remember actually talking to one of your reporters that night."
My mind reeled. So Sam hadn't given The Frond that quote? Had they made it up? No, that didn't make sense. Sam wouldn't have felt compelled to take credit for it if they'd made it up. Licking my lips, I decided to test out a theory.
"Sometimes journalism needs to be dirty to get down to the truth. You may not have wanted anyone else to hear, but you said it. I'm not sorry you're having to pay for your terrible words." The voice that came out of me was so much more assertive and sure than I felt at the moment. I pushed my shoulders back a little, proud of myself for standing up to the jerk.
"If you think anyone would ever mistake your garbage paper for journalism, you're sorely mistaken."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "It seems the whole campus is mistaken then. And because of our 'garbage paper' everyone knows the truth." I leaned in closer. "The police know what you were doing the night Katie was murdered." I was about to add they would find out he'd killed Mindy, too, but remembered how many people I'd accused last year, and kept my mouth shut.
Sam's smile dropped and his eyes darted arou
nd as if he was thinking, remembering. Oh, I had him now.
"Where were you on Thursday night, Sam? By the town center, I'm guessing? We'll find out."
He opened his mouth, about to say something, when a voice to my right startled both of us.
"I think you need to leave." Victoria stood next to us, a steaming cup of coffee in her trembling hand. Her light blue eyes looked like icicles, stabbing out at Sam.
Frustration filled me as I watched him clamp his mouth shut and narrow his eyes. Darn. Sam had been just about to tell me something. I could feel it.
"This whole campus is ridiculous," Sam muttered and then stood to leave.
I took a deep breath to collect myself and push the irritation I felt away, not wanting anything but my gratitude to show. Victoria had just done something very brave and I completely appreciated her standing up for me.
"Thank you," I said, standing.
Victoria set the flimsy to-go cup down on the table and shook out her hand. "Ouch. That really was hot." Her blue eyes met mine. "I brought the coffee just in case. The way he was looking at you..." She shook her head. "I got scared."
Yeah. Me too, I thought as I smiled at her. "Don't be sorry. I appreciate you standing up for me." I gathered my notebook quickly. I needed to get to class.
Once I was out of the student center, my breathing settled and my heart began to calm from the racing pace it'd been keeping ever since my conversation with Sam. Letting my shoulders drop, I walked forward, toward the English building.
But I didn't get far. As I rounded the corner behind the student center, I cried out in pain as someone reached out and grabbed onto my arm, pulling me back toward the building. My body slammed into the concrete wall and I looked up into the furious face of Sam Delaney. I gasped in pain as his fingers curled tighter around my wrist and clenched down. I buckled forward.
"What do you want?" His hot breath shoved forward into my face as he leaned in.
I searched the surrounding area frantically, but we were on the side of the building, away from the heavier foot traffic.
