by Cate Holahan
“I know it’s difficult to imagine that a sixteen-year-old would kill someone just to get revenge against an ex. I know how farfetched it sounds.” Nia looked straight at Kelly. She wanted him to see the truth in her eyes. “But I also know that I did not send those text messages. And no one else has any reason to make it seem as though I did.”
Kelly and Frank exchanged a look. Nia couldn’t read it.
“Can we get a cheek swab?” Kelly asked.
“What? Why?”
“Turns out the lake didn’t destroy all the evidence,” Frank said. “There were some particles under Lauren’s nails.”
“It’s just to rule you out,” Kelly said.
The hairs stood up on the back of Nia’s neck. If police procedurals were any indication, the people detectives wanted to “rule out” were often their biggest targets. Had she made herself a suspect by bringing them information? By finding the body?
“I was moving in all day the Saturday Lauren went missing. I spoke to some parents. I said hello to the kids.”
“Just to rule you out,” Kelly said.
Maybe it was just a test? If she didn’t say yes, the police would think she had something to hide. But if she agreed, they’d believe her. Why not agree? There was no way Aubrey could have planted her DNA under Lauren’s fingernails. She hadn’t been out to get her then.
Nia nodded. An officer with a black plastic suitcase appeared, as if on cue. She opened her mouth and let him swab the inside of her cheek with a long Q-tip.
“How about you, buddy?” Frank looked at Peter.
Her boyfriend’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, but no. Nothing against you guys. I just don’t do anything police say without consulting an attorney.”
Frank chuckled. “One of those.”
Nia swallowed the chalky taste of the cotton swab. She zeroed back in on Kelly. “I have nothing to hide, and I was right about Marta and Theo’s alibi. If I hadn’t come forward, the state attorney would still be prosecuting an innocent kid.”
She leaned over the desk, bringing her face closer to Kelly’s askew nose. “Please. You have to at least check my theory out. Aubrey must be using the same program to spoof the messages from me that she used to send that message to Lauren. If you look at the SMStealer data, you should be able to find Aubrey’s IP address. Something.”
Kelly dragged his hand over his mouth. The gesture seemed defeated. Nia braced for bad news.
“Damn company is based in Russia.” Frank spoke from the side. “They swear they don’t keep any information on a central database, and they won’t give us their logs. But they insist that the SMStealer app stores message information that we can use—if we ever find the device that sent the text in the first place.”
Her hand fell. Peter had dropped it.
More defeated body language? Why was everyone so eager to give up? A girl was dead and Nia’s own career, maybe even her freedom, was on the line. Ballet companies constantly worked with teenagers. Children often danced small parts. They’d never hire a sex offender.
“If the info is on the device, then you have to check Aubrey’s phone. That’s how she got my number: when she sent the picture from my phone to hers. The app must be there.”
Frank’s arms folded across his barrel chest. His eyes narrowed. “If it was that easy to check a student’s phone, don’t you think we would have taken everyone’s phone at the school and checked it? We can’t just confiscate personal electronics without cause. Remember the Fourth Amendment?”
“But Aubrey sent those messages.”
“You don’t have any proof,” Frank growled.
Kelly rose from his seat. “Here’s what I can do. I’ll call over to Wallace police for your phone and make sure to have our digital forensic department take a look at it first thing Monday. We’ll inform the school right away of what we find or don’t find.”
Kelly stood and extended his hand for a shake. Nia couldn’t let things end like this.
“The school took my phone for suspicion of sending those texts. They didn’t have a warrant. They just had the word of a student. Can’t you do the same? Isn’t my word worth anything?”
Kelly’s hand cupped his mouth and then fell to his chin. His eyes opened wider as if trying to shine more light onto an idea in his head.
“Your word is worth something.” A finger tapped against the side of his mouth. “You told your bosses that you think Aubrey faked the text messages, right?”
“Yes. They didn’t want to hear it. But I did.”
“Well, then you made an allegation against her: fraud. And you just repeated that allegation to us,” Kelly said.
He looked at his partner. They both smiled. Kelly pointed a finger at her.
“That might be enough to get the school to give us her phone.”
44
Taqueté [tak-TAY]
Pegged. A term used to indicate a dance sur les pointes consisting of quick, little steps in which the points strike the floor sharply in a staccato manner.
Nia dragged a half-full suitcase from her living room to her bathroom door. She hadn’t brought much stuff to Wallace, but she’d acquired a surprising amount in the past month: coffee cups, an umbrella, toiletries, a sweatshirt with the Wallace monogram on the breast. Everything that didn’t fit in her carry-on or the nearly full duffle in the corner was destined for the garbage. She wanted everything except the sweatshirt.
After talking to Detective Kelly, Nia felt certain that she would be cleared of Aubrey’s allegations. Once the police examined her call records, they’d realize that she’d only sent the photo, and Lydia could verify that Aubrey had asked her to take the picture for the yearbook.
Unfortunately, the investigation would take time. She still needed to be off Wallace’s campus by six o’clock in the afternoon.
“Is this stuff going?”
Peter’s voice echoed inside an open kitchen cabinet. Nia looked up from her bag to see his face framed by the oak interior. His skin looked sallow. He hadn’t slept well last night.
The conversation with Detective Kelly had put her more at ease, but it had made Peter jittery. He’d tossed and turned in his bed beside her, mumbling about murder.
“Why don’t you rest? I’ll clear that out.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I got it.”
Nia thought it romantic that he worried about her so much. He honestly feared for her career and that Aubrey would get away with it. It was comforting to know that someone else cared as much as she did.
She had pored over the school handbook until past two o’clock in the morning, looking for more ways that she could help the detectives demand Aubrey’s phone. The allegation she’d already made was her best bet. An accusation that a student or teacher had committed a cybercrime—such as sending sexual texts to a minor, spreading inappropriate content, or impersonating someone else—was sufficient reason to confiscate any electronic device that tapped into the school network. However, the complaint would have to be judged nonmalicious. In other words, Dean Stirk had to believe that she hadn’t made up the whole story about Aubrey in retaliation for the girl’s accusations.
Nia had faith that the dean would follow through. Above all else, Stirk cared about Wallace’s reputation. She would want to prove, without question, that she had not hired a pedophile. Though Nia’s phone records would make it clear that the messages hadn’t come from her cell and thus protect her against legal charges, only finding the source of the texts would erase all doubt. Otherwise, Aubrey could always argue that Nia had spoofed her own messages in order to cover her tracks.
Nia squeezed the contents of her medicine chest into the front pocket of the black bag at her feet. She zipped it and then walked over to Peter in the kitchen.
“Don’t worry. They’ll see that I didn’t send those texts.” She hugged his back. “It will all come out.”
He turned around in her arms. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“What
do you mean?”
He coughed. “You know that Aubrey will make more accusations once they arrest her, right? She’ll say things about you. She might even say things about me.”
“What could she say?”
“I don’t know. But if police find that she did fake those texts from you, her back will be against the wall. She’ll say anything she can against us.”
Nia could picture Aubrey inventing a new lie about her, but she couldn’t see why the girl would target Peter. Aubrey didn’t even know him. She wasn’t in any of his classes. She probably hadn’t seen him all year, except for outside Nia’s apartment—and at the casino.
The casino! Nia finally understood.
“Are you worried because we didn’t tell the dean about taking her home that night?”
“Yeah.” His chin went up and down, a hammer hitting a nail. “I’m concerned that she’ll accuse you or me of sexual assault. She could claim that she was trying to get you because we had previously molested her after taking her home, drunk, from a nightclub.”
Nia’s mouth went dry. She forced herself to swallow the new fear. “Once the police see she sent the texts from my number, they’ll also see that she sent that message to Lauren. No one will believe anything a murderer says.”
Peter’s shoulders sank. “I hope you’re right.”
She patted his arm and then returned to her suitcase. There was nothing else to say. She pulled the bag back into the living room and scanned the apartment. Nearly everything had been packed. Now she just had to figure out where she would bring it all.
Nia sighed. She had to call her mother.
Instinctively, she reached into her sweater pocket for her cell phone. She would say that she planned to come for a visit. The details could wait until she arrived in Queens.
Her fingers found lint. Of course her pocket was empty—the campus police had confiscated her phone.
Nia called over to Peter. “Hey, can I borrow your cell to call my mom and let her know I’m coming?”
Peter looked over his shoulder. “Uh. Sure. The password is oh-three-two-four. March twenty-fourth. My birthday.”
“Thanks.”
Nia spied the phone on the kitchen counter, beside her still-unpacked coffee maker. She would have to remember to take that.
She crossed the room into the kitchen. Before she could pick up the device, Peter grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. His nose pressed against the top of her head.
“Move in with me?”
Nia took a step back. “What?”
“Move in with me. We can get an apartment off campus while you fight this.” He forced a smile. His eyes didn’t share in it.
Nia felt a pang of guilt. Did he want to live with her because he thought she had nowhere to go?
“That’s really nice of you, but I won’t be homeless after I leave here. I can stay with my mom in Queens while the police investigate. It will be okay.”
Blond strands fell into Peter’s face. He pushed them back. “It’s not just about the case. Even if the police clear you Monday and you get your job back, we should still move in together.”
He rested his butt on the edge of her counter. His skin looked dry. Fine lines etched across his forehead. The stress made him own all of his thirty-two years.
“I’m too old to live on campus. It seemed like a good idea after my wife died, but I realize that I need a broader boundary between the students and myself. And if we lived together, Aubrey’s allegations—whatever they turn out to be—will carry less weight.”
Nia didn’t know how to answer. Part of her felt so battered that she just wanted to say yes. Yes to anything. Yes to the path of least resistance. Still, it seemed wrong moving in with someone just to undercut Aubrey’s lies. What about love or wanting to share a life?
“So you want us to get a place together so fewer people will believe Aubrey if she says we did anything to her?”
He exhaled. “No. Look. I’m stressed and I’m worried about you, so nothing I say is coming out right.” He grabbed her hand. His palm felt clammy. “I want to move in with you.”
“I won’t be at Wallace next year.” Technically, her contract ended in June. But after everything that had happened, Nia wasn’t sure that she would stay past January—if, of course, Battle even kept her on after the police cleared her phone. Her worker’s comp claim would cover continued therapy on her foot for the next several months. After that, she could start auditioning.
“We can worry about that later. There’s plenty on our plate right now.”
Nia thought of Dimitri. “Maybe we shouldn’t make any big—”
“I love you.” His throat bobbed. His eyes looked glassy. “Move in with me.”
She couldn’t say no. At least not now. Regardless of what he said, he wanted to protect her. She couldn’t repay that kindness with a refusal. Besides, she’d said she loved him. If you loved someone, why wouldn’t you move in with him?
“Okay.”
He pulled her to his chest. She buried her face in his T-shirt, and he ran his fingers through her hair. The gesture felt comforting. Normal. She could almost pretend that she’d just woken up from a bad dream.
But she hadn’t freed herself from this nightmare. She was still on Wallace’s campus and accused of sexting a minor. The police hadn’t yet cleared her phone.
And Aubrey still lived next door.
45
Enlèvement [ahn-lev-M AHN]
Carrying off. The male dancer lifts his partner in the air in a step or pose.
A cold, gray fog had descended on the campus, hiding the afternoon light. Nia followed Peter down the steps and onto the walkway, suitcase thumping behind her. The carry-on’s wheels were designed for linoleum floors or fresh asphalt, not cobblestones. Peter appeared to have an easier time carrying the large duffle propped atop his shoulder, even though it was far heavier.
Light rain fell. The drops dotted the walkway with dark spots the size of dimes. Nia wouldn’t miss running between the dance building and her dorm in bad weather. She would, however, miss teaching. Sadness weighed on her body, dragging her steps. She’d been a good instructor. Lydia had learned something in just a few weeks with her. What a shame to leave this way.
They walked around to the girls’ parking lot. As she turned the corner, a familiar voice shouted behind her.
“Aw, are you leaving?”
Nia turned to see Aubrey standing on the grass. Her long blond hair and tight, cropped sweater made her look like a Barbie doll. But the smirk was all sociopath.
Rage trembled through Nia’s extremities. She wanted to confront her, but it would be a mistake. Aubrey would just use the encounter as more ammunition for her lies.
“Bye, Ms. Washington. It’s been real.” Aubrey giggled. “Peter, I’ll see you in the dorms.”
Peter whirled to face the girl. “You won’t see either of us in the dorms, Aubrey. We’re getting an apartment together.”
The smile remained on Aubrey’s face, but the mirth drained from it. Nia guessed she was pissed to hear that her accusations hadn’t driven Nia all the way back to Manhattan.
“Oh, are you?”
“Yes, and no lie is going to change that,” he said. “Now leave us alone.”
Aubrey’s hands hit her hips. She stared at Peter, a predator sizing up prey.
“Just go.” Peter’s voice commanded.
Aubrey opened her mouth as if she planned to say something else. It closed in a scowl. She stormed off.
“I know you’re trying to defend me, but you didn’t have to do that,” Nia said. “You’re making yourself a bigger target for her.”
He kissed her head. “She should know that I’m going to protect you.”
Peter had parked in the handicap spot, closest to the entrance. The car beeped as the trunk popped open. He tried to push the duffle inside, pressing on its sides, squeezing it into a more compact package. None of his efforts could force it into the sports car–sized
compartment.
He yanked the bag back out. “Toss the carry-on in there. I’ll put this in the backseat.”
Nia hoisted the suitcase to her waist. Fatigue weighed on her arms. The plastic wheels hit the edge of the trunk as she pushed it into the car.
Two beams of light pierced the air. Nia turned to see a blue-and-white police beacon flashing from the dash of an unmarked car heading up the road. A campus cop car followed behind.
The vehicles pulled into the lot. Nia saw Detectives Kelly and Frank in the front seat of the unmarked sedan. They made eye contact as they exited the car. She caught a smile at the edge of Kelly’s mouth. It erased any fear that the detectives had come for her.
She shut the trunk and walked over.
Dean Stirk exited the campus vehicle with an officer in tow. Stirk appeared unkempt in a bulky Wallace sweatshirt and dress pants. For once, she’d really just thrown something on.
“Ms. Washington.” Nia’s name buzzed between the dean’s teeth. “The detectives informed me of your formal allegation against our student Aubrey Byrne. We treat all allegations with the utmost seriousness.” Stirk stared at Nia like a professor about to send someone to detention.
“Is it that building?” Kelly pointed to the dorm. The gray stone blended into the cement-colored sky, turning the building into a hazy mirage.
Instead of answering him, Stirk continued looking at Nia, as if waiting for her to suddenly confess. Yes, I made the whole thing up. I propositioned Aubrey.
Nia maintained eye contact. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
Frank cleared his throat. “It would be best if you returned to your room. We would like to speak to Ms. Byrne in private, and we may need to bring her back here.”
Nia looked over at the BMW. Peter sat in the driver’s seat, hand on the steering wheel. He wasn’t getting out of the car.
She held up a finger in his direction and mouthed “one minute” before turning back to the cops and Stirk. “Fine.”
