by Jana DeLeon
It would be light outside soon and Shaye had figured the girl was calm enough to handle the rest of the early morning by herself. She’d left Tara a note on her desk and made sure the door was locked behind her before she’d slipped out. As she was climbing into her SUV, Jackson had called and she’d driven straight to his house, not even stopping for a cup of much-needed coffee. Thank goodness he’d had a pot ready when she got there.
Forcing herself back into reality, she ignored the bed and headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While she usually preferred to stand under a hot stream of water until her skin turned pink, today called for cold to help her wake up. And wake her up, it did. She yelped when she stepped into the cold blast of water and turned around in circles, allowing it to run over her entire body, giving every inch of her the message that it was time to get moving.
Five minutes of turning and jiggling was all she could manage before she hopped out and grabbed a towel. She dried off and pulled on jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes and headed to the front door. A quick check of the street revealed no new cars parked since she had arrived, so she hurried to her SUV and directed it toward the campus. With any luck, Amber’s sorority sisters would be up and moving around. Shaye wanted to talk to them before she took Tara to the police station.
Once Grayson heard Tara’s story, and assuming he bought into the theory that it could all be the work of one perpetrator, the first thing they’d do would be to try and figure out the connection between Ethan, Amber, Ross, and Brenda. Which meant questioning all of the sorority sisters. Shaye had every right to talk to the girls herself, although she couldn’t compel them to talk to her, but if other cops found out she was talking to potential witnesses on an open case, it could make trouble for her, Jackson, and Grayson. So her plan was to talk to as many of the sorority sisters as she could find before the police started doing the same thing.
Twenty minutes later, she knocked on the front door of the sorority house. It opened quickly and a young woman with long brown hair, full makeup, and a smile on her face answered the door. Behind her, Shaye saw several young women milling around, chatting, and preparing to start their day.
“Hi,” Shaye said. “My name is Shaye Archer and I’m a private investigator.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. You’re the lady from the news. You’re famous.” The girl clutched her arm. “I am so sorry for what happened to you. At first I thought it was all a really bad joke because who wants to believe there are people like that right here in New Orleans, but when I realized it wasn’t a joke, I ate a whole chocolate pie and cried. We all did. I mean, you went to school here. You’re practically one of us.”
“Thank you,” Shaye said, not sure what response was appropriate. She’d hoped her status as a younger woman might get the sisters to open up more than they might with a cop, especially a male one, but she hadn’t counted on her horrific past getting her an honorary membership status. Not that she was complaining. If the sisters were that upset about what had happened to her, then they should be dying to talk about what happened to Amber.
“I’m Marybeth,” the girl continued. “Do you want to come in? We have coffee and herbal tea. Some of the girls won’t drink caffeine. I think that’s crazy talk, but then I’m pretty sure my mom was giving me coffee in my bottle.”
Shaye followed the girl inside and into the kitchen, where more girls were busy making breakfast and doing last-minute studying.
“Sisters,” Marybeth announced. “I am so excited to introduce Shaye Archer. Can you believe she’s in our house?”
All the sisters stopped what they were doing and looked at Shaye, most of them wide-eyed and staring. Finally one of them started clapping and the rest followed suit.
“Thank you,” Shaye repeated, still completely lost as to what protocol was in this situation.
“Okay,” Marybeth said, “I’m sure you didn’t just stop by out of the blue to visit, so how can we help you?”
“I wanted to ask some questions about Amber Olivier. I’m sorry. I know it’s got to be really hard for you right now, but I wouldn’t be here unless it was important.”
Everyone sobered at once and Shaye heard a few sniffles.
“They’re blaming us, you know,” Marybeth said quietly. “The cops said it was a sorority prank, but it wasn’t. We would never do a prank like that, especially to Amber.”
“Why not?” Shaye asked. The specificity of the statement struck her as important.
“Amber was claustrophobic,” Marybeth replied.
Shaye’s stomach clenched as she imagined what the girl must have gone through when she realized she was trapped inside a coffin. “That’s awful,” Shaye said. “I didn’t know.”
“Most people didn’t,” Marybeth said. “Just her family and us. We told the police, but they just figured that gave us even more reason to put her in that horrible place. You know, as a test.”
“I know it doesn’t mean much,” Shaye said, “but I don’t think you had anything to do with Amber’s death.”
“Really?” Marybeth perked up a bit. “I was afraid maybe her parents sent you or something. I’m sure her mother believed us but Amber’s father just looked angry.”
Another girl stepped closer. “If you don’t believe we did it, then what do you think happened? There’s no way Amber climbed in that coffin willingly.”
Shaye saw no reason to lie. The truth didn’t require all of her reasoning or details of her case. “I believe she was murdered,” Shaye said.
There was a collective intake of breath, and the girl who’d asked her the question nodded.
“I think so too,” the girl said. “I’m Brittany. I’m a forensic science major. Only a junior, but I read a lot and watch a lot of documentaries. The others thought I was being morbid, but there’s really only so many answers. Either we did it, Amber did it, or someone else did it.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Shaye said. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“So if Amber’s parents didn’t hire you, then who did?” Marybeth asked.
“A student, who wants to remain anonymous. A friend of hers, also a student, is missing and the circumstances are suspicious. She retained me to find him.”
“And you think the two are connected?” Brittany asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Shaye said.
Brittany nodded and looked around the room. “Everyone who doesn’t have class or can skip, go to the meeting hall. It will be more efficient for her to talk to all of us at once.” She looked over at Shaye. “Is that all right?”
“Perfect.” Shaye could barely control her excitement. It couldn’t have been better if she’d scripted it herself.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Marybeth asked. “It might take a while.”
“Water would be great,” Shaye said.
Marybeth passed her a bottled water from the refrigerator, and Shaye followed her down a hallway toward the back of the house. They entered a huge room with the longest banquet table Shaye had ever seen. Twelve girls total, including Marybeth. If they didn’t know anything, then there probably wasn’t anything for Shaye to find here.
She pulled her laptop out of her shoulder bag and put it on the table. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to take some notes. I assume you’d prefer not to be recorded.”
“Definitely,” Marybeth agreed. “My dad’s attorney would have a heart attack. He’s already halfway there just with the police being idiots.”
“My dad is an attorney,” one of the girls said. “I thought he was going to make me move out and join a convent.”
Shaye nodded. “I understand the issues and I promise you, I only want information to try to help my client and her missing friend. I won’t involve myself with anything that attempts to make trouble for you.”
“Great,” Marybeth said. “So where do you want to start?”
“Did Amber receive any strange text messages before she
disappeared?” Shaye asked. “Specifically a text with a picture of another person?”
The girls shook their heads, then one of them frowned.
“There was that text from Ross St. Claire,” the girl said. “He’s a guy Amber knew from high school.”
Shaye’s pulse quickened. “And she told you about it?”
“Amber and I were roommates,” the girl said. “I’m Katey, by the way. Amber wasn’t a huge talker but she wasn’t extremely private either. Just about certain things, like the claustrophobia.”
“Were Amber and Ross friends? Did Amber tell you what the text said?”
“They definitely weren’t friends,” Katey said. “Amber thought he was pompous and mean, which is probably why the text made her mad. It had this picture of Ross and looked like he was passed out and said something like she had two days to find him or he would die.”
Katey’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. He’s not dead, is he? I heard some guys talking in history class saying he was missing, but they figured he had skipped out to his parents’ beach house.”
Shaye hesitated, trying to formulate the right response. No way was she divulging unreleased police information but she also hated lying outright, especially when it was decent people she was lying to.
“I’ve been in another country until yesterday, so I’m out of the loop on most everything,” Shaye replied. It wasn’t a lie. More of an avoidance of the facts. “Did Amber hear that Ross was missing?”
Katey nodded. “Yeah, but she didn’t think anything of it. He’s hit on her before at a Greek mixer so she figured he was drunk texting.”
“If she didn’t like him, why would Ross have Amber’s phone number?” Shaye asked.
Katey shrugged. “He asked around and got it probably.”
Shaye believed what Katey said was true enough. College students tended to share and trust more than adults out in the workforce did, especially within their own social scene. But something told her that Ross wasn’t the person who’d sought Amber’s number, and if she knew who had, she’d have her killer.
“Do any of you know a student named Ethan Campbell?” Shaye asked. She would keep Tara’s name out of the questioning, but without bringing Ethan into the conversation, she had no way of figuring out the connection.
All the girls shook their heads, and Shaye pulled up an image of Ethan on her cell phone that she’d cropped Tara out of. “Here’s a picture of him,” Shaye said. “Does he look familiar to anyone?”
Shaye handed the phone to the girl next to her and she studied it, then passed it down. It was almost back to Shaye when Brittany got hold of it and stared, her eyes widening.
“He’s in my English class,” Brittany said. “Sits in the back corner. Really quiet and really smart.” She looked up at Shaye. “He’s missing?”
“Yes,” Shaye said. “He was last seen Sunday night, leaving his dorm to go to the convenience store.”
Brittany made a face. “We stopped going to that store. The owner is crazy.”
“What do you mean?” Shaye asked.
“A couple of us were in there one night when some frat guys came in drunk. They pushed a guy into a display and knocked the whole thing down. The owner’s face turned so red I thought he was going to have a heart attack, and he screamed at them to get out or he’d call the police. He followed them all the way to the sidewalk, still yelling like a madman.”
“Do you know who the guys were that he yelled at?” Shaye asked.
Brittany shook her head. “I didn’t really pay attention to their faces, but one of them was wearing a T-shirt with a Lafitte logo.”
“Do you remember how long ago it happened?” Shaye asked.
“It was Tuesday before last,” Brittany said. “I remember because we’d been studying all day for a biology exam and were burned out on coffee, so we went to get sports drinks.”
“Great. Thanks,” Shaye said, making a note of the date. “Is there anything else you guys can tell me? Was anyone bothering Amber? Was she afraid of anyone? Had her behavior changed in the days leading up to her death?”
The girls all looked at one another and shook their heads.
“Nobody is liked by everyone,” Marybeth said, “but I can’t think of anyone that Amber had real problems with. Petty jealousy over stuff is common, especially from girls who didn’t make it through rush week, but everyone made it in this year.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?” Shaye asked.
“No,” Katey said. “She kinda liked this guy on the basketball team but she hadn’t worked up the nerve to let him know.”
“There was a high school boyfriend,” Brittany said. “She told me about him once and I got the impression she was still kinda hung up on him. She said her dad made her break it off with him. Something about his family.”
“Did she tell you his name?”
Brittany shook her head.
“What was her major?” Shaye asked, wondering if the connection could somehow be academic.
“She hadn’t picked one,” Katey said. “She was taking basic requirements and trying to decide. Her dad is a doctor and he was pushing her to go into medicine, but I know she didn’t have any interest.”
Shaye made a note to get information on Amber’s father. A successful physician might move in some of the same social circles as the St. Claires. Maybe that was where one of the connections was. “And her mother?” Shaye asked. “Did she work?”
“No,” Katey said. “Amber said she came from a poor family out in the bayous and that her dad’s parents were really upset when he married her. I know she volunteers for one of the homeless shelters. Not like at the shelter, but she gets people to donate clothes and food and stuff.”
“Sounds like a nice woman,” Shaye said.
Katey sniffed. “She is and she’s falling apart. I went to see her yesterday and it was bad. I hope you find Ethan, and if the same person who took him killed Amber, then I hope you shoot them dead.”
“Katey!” Marybeth stared at her sorority sister in dismay.
“I’m not apologizing,” Katey said. “And I’m not taking it back. I meant it. Whoever did such a thing doesn’t deserve to live. It’s wicked.”
Brittany put her hand on Katey’s arm. “I don’t think he deserves to live either.”
Tara located the only pair of clean sweatpants she owned and bent over to put them on, but as soon as she lifted her leg, pain shot through her knee and she dropped her foot back onto the floor. She flopped onto the bed and leaned to the side, pulling the sweats over her foot while trying to keep her leg as straight as possible. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was better than dressing standing.
She managed to wriggle her feet into her tennis shoes without bending the knee, then grabbed a new can of Mace from her desk and dropped it into her purse. The first thing she needed to do was see the school nurse about her hands and knee. She planned on playing up the headache and pain angle so that the woman would give her a medical pass. Most of Tara’s instructors didn’t care whether students attended class or not, but two were sticklers for attendance and marked off if you missed without a good reason.
The nurse’s office was on the opposite end of campus from her dorm. It was a long walk when she was in good shape, but it was going to be painfully long with her banged-up knee. Resolved to a long morning of walking and aspirin, she headed out of the dorm. But when she reached the parking lot, she thought about Ethan’s car. It was a much shorter walk to his dorm than to the nurse’s office, and Ethan wouldn’t mind if she borrowed his car, especially for this. As long as Brett was there, she could get Ethan’s keys from his desk drawer.
She wavered for a bit, then finally turned and headed for Ethan’s dorm. Worst-case scenario, Brett had decided to go to class today and she had an even longer walk to the nurse’s office once she backtracked from Ethan’s dorm. Hopefully, Brett was living up to his reputation and had partied all night and would be sleeping half the day.
H
er knee did all right for most of the walk, but she did stop once to let it rest for a minute. Sometimes when she took a step, pain shot up and down the knee like a bolt of electricity was firing through her leg. She knew it was nerves but hoped they were just momentarily angry because of the injury and not because the wound was getting infected. She’d been careful about cleaning it, but maybe the nurse would give her an antibiotic just to be sure.
She knocked on Ethan’s door and waited for any sign of life inside, then knocked again, this time louder. Another ten seconds or so passed with no sign of Brett and Tara sighed. Unless she just happened across a student she knew with a car who wasn’t on their way to class or work, it looked like her knee was going to have to make do with a much longer walk. As she turned around to leave, the door swung open and Brett looked out at her.
One glance at his angry stare and Tara regretted her choice. All of the fears about Brett that she’d dismissed last night as irrational came flooding back in. Brett was a fool, but he was a big, strong guy. He could easily overpower her.
“Why are you banging on the door so early?” he asked. “And so loud. I’m trying to sleep.”
“I need to borrow something of Ethan’s,” she said.
Brett turned around and walked back to his bed, then fell onto it and turned his back to her. She hesitated for a second, then hurried over to the desk and grabbed Ethan’s keys from inside before practically jogging out the door and closing it behind her. She was so spooked, she didn’t slow down until she was in the parking lot.
She climbed into Ethan’s car and locked the doors, feeling overwhelmed and foolish. Her knee had hurt before, but now it was throbbing.
What is wrong with you?
She hadn’t been this jumpy since junior high school when her older cousin had made her watch Halloween. It hadn’t helped that it was October. She’d spent weeks having nightmares and jumping at every shadow. After the third night of being awakened by screaming, her mother had finally gotten the truth out of her, and once shared with her aunt, her cousin had been grounded.
Tara had never watched another horror movie again. To be honest, she wasn’t a big fan of the news, either. It was all mostly scary and depressing. Look at what had happened to Shaye and to all those street kids. Tara had always known about the dangers surrounding her. Her mother had made sure of it. But something about the whole story surrounding Shaye had made her think yet again before she did things, and even more especially since Ethan had disappeared.
