by A J Rivers
“What are you doing?” he asks. “You know the QR codes in there aren’t going to work until the day they’re connected to.”
“I know,” I tell him. “That’s exactly what I’m looking at. The first note said his friends. Plural. That means there is another crime behind each of these doors that he’s going to expect me to figure out. There’s another one coming up in two days. Then there’s this one,” I say, pointing out the final window. “Three days after this one is the day Julia disappeared.”
“That’s the pattern,” Sam says. “You get three days after each one to figure out what happened.”
“Or something horrible happens to someone else,” I say. “At least I have the head start of knowing the date the crime happened. That will at least narrow down the options. I need to go.”
“What do you mean you need to go? Go where?” Sam asks.
“Back to my school. I need to find out what happened to Julia. Angeline is linked to that. And whoever is behind those other doors is, too. I don’t know how, but that’s what I need to find out. I can’t let something else happened to any of them. But especially to her.”
“You think Julia is still alive?” he asks.
“How could you ask me that?”
“Because you need to clarify what it is you’re doing. Are you trying to figure it out because you want to make sure no one else is hurt and you want to find the person who took Julia, if he is the same person. Or are you still looking for her?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Both. I hate that another girl is scared out of her ever-loving mind out there because some asshole with a power complex and a Christmas fetish took her to prove something to me. And that’s if he kept her alive after he took her. But I also hate the fact that Julia had to go through any of this and could still be going through it because no one else was willing to fight for her. They thought they knew her and everything she was doing, but they didn’t.
“Thirteen years ago, I was an eighteen-year-old kid who’d just had my world rattled to hell and was thrown for another loop when my friend disappeared. No one listened to me. Now I’m an FBI agent, and a damn good one. If there’s even the slightest chance that Julia is still out there, I’m going to be the one to find her.”
Sam nods. “What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing right now. You need to keep working. I’ll let you know if there is anything you can do from here. I’m going to pack and head to the school,” I say.
“Tonight?” he asks, sounding shocked.
“Sam, I have two days until the next window. That means I have five until someone else ends up suffering if I can’t figure out who is doing this. All my answers are around that campus. That’s where everything happened. I can’t waste any more time.”
“Are you going to stay at your father’s house?” he asks.
“Yeah. He’s still in Iowa. Besides, that’s where I was when it was all happening. If I’m going to go back, it makes sense to do it all the way,” I say.
“Are you going to be alright there?” Sam asks.
I know what he’s thinking. His mind is still in the days before I moved to Sherwood, when I was living in the house in Northern Virginia and being stalked. At the time, I had no idea who the man was or what he wanted with me. This was before I found my father again and was tormented by seeing a face that looked exactly like his.
“It’s been a long time, Sam. And Jonah is in prison. There’s nothing he can do. I’ll be safe there. And I’ll be close to Eric and Bellamy, so I’m not going to be alone,” I say.
“How long are you going to be gone?” he asks.
“Hopefully not long,” I say. “I want this done. And I want to be home for Christmas.”
He pulls me in for a tight hug and a kiss. “Nothing will keep me from being with you Christmas morning.”
I kiss him in return. “I’ll come by to say goodbye before leaving.”
He nods and leaves, and I head into my room to pack. As I walk out of the house, I stop to look at the lights on the Christmas tree and the presents beneath it. Then I close the door, toss my bags into the backseat, and head in to say goodbye to Sam.
Chapter Forty
Thirteen years ago…
Emma checked her phone for what felt like the thousandth time. Now that she had done four loops through the library looking for her, Julia was officially an hour late. They were supposed to meet up at the library to start studying for their last finals, then they were going to move to Emma’s house so they could keep going even after the library closed.
But Julia was nowhere. This marathon cramming session was her idea. Emma liked any excuse to hang out with her, but she knew her friend was stressed about the test coming up and wanted to make sure she would do well. She hadn’t told anybody else, but she had applied to the graduate program and was also looking into some culinary classes so she could follow both paths.
Emma wasn’t so worried about her last final. It was a class she’d carried a high A in for the entire semester. She could probably take the exam and ace it without cracking her book a single time to study. But she wanted to be there for Julia. She was so excited for her. After so much going back and forth and worrying, Julia was finally taking control of her life, and Emma loved to see it.
Only now that was worrying her even more. When they’d planned this study session, Julia had been so excited. She was eager to dig deep and have the best performance she possibly could so she could impress the graduate school.
It had felt to Emma as if something was coming over Julia. A major change was happening, and even though Julia wouldn’t really open up to her about everything in her life, Emma got the feeling she was right on the brink of something amazing.
There was no reason she shouldn’t be at the library. She wouldn’t just blow it off. Not after all her enthusiasm and excitement. Not after planning snacks and telling Emma to put together a studying playlist. They had even already exchanged Christmas presents so there would be no frivolity to distract them from the business at hand.
In all honesty, they both knew there would be at least a little bit of frivolity. But for the most part, they would be working hard to make her feel totally confident and ready to face the final.
Now she wasn’t here.
It suddenly occurred to Emma that maybe Julia had gone straight to her house rather than coming by the library first. As caught up in everything as she was, it was possible she had misunderstood the plan and just skipped a step.
Emma walked out of the library and called Julia. It rang several times and then went to voicemail. Emma hung up and tried again. Again, it rang and rang, then voicemail picked up. She left a message and followed up with a text. She was already walking toward where her car was parked as she sent the message.
The worry was starting to build up as she drove off campus toward her house. She kept telling herself that when she turned onto her street, she would see Julia’s car sitting there in front of the house. Julia would be behind the wheel waiting for her, her textbook open on the steering wheel as she jotted notes in the notebook sitting on the dashboard.
Emma repeated the image to herself so many times she could already see it in her head. It was as if it was actually happening.
Until she turned onto her street and the car wasn’t there. She drove all the way to the other end of the street to make sure Julia hadn’t parked on the next block. Then she drove around the block and up and down several other streets, searching for the car.
She called Julia’s phone and sent several more messages. None of the calls was answered. None of the messages were returned. Emma drove through the entire neighborhood. There were plenty of open spots available, and she didn’t see Julia’s car anywhere.
Leaving one more voicemail, she went back to her house and went inside to wait.
Now
I have to admit, it’s a little bit surreal coming back to this house. Sure, I’ve been back since moving to Sherwood. But the majority o
f the time I’ve spent here since permanently making what was once my grandmother’s house my home has been since my father moved back in.
I’ve been through several odd transitions with this house. It came into my life many years ago before I started college. My father didn’t want me to have to live in a dorm or struggle with other types of student housing, so he bought the house instead. I could live off campus, but close enough that I could easily get to classes. It was ideal. I was never one to be interested in the partying lifestyle often associated with dorms, and I really enjoyed the space and the privacy of being in my own place.
Having my father there with me was also a major draw. Even after years of his rarely going on business travel anymore, I hadn’t quite gotten over being a little child when he left for days or even weeks at a time. But then when I was eighteen, he certainly wasn’t there anymore. I came home just after my birthday and found him gone. Without any preparation or prior notice, I lived on my own in a house I held the deed to and had a bank account with more than enough money to survive on for a good long time.
I barely knew what to do with myself. So I did the only thing I could think of. I kept going. I lived in this house on my own for the next eleven years before returning to Sherwood. The first time I went back to the little town that was the closest thing to a hometown I had, considering my often shifting and mobile childhood, it was with absolutely no intention of actually staying there.
This little house was my home, and I knew I was going to go back to it. But things changed, and soon I found myself more at home in Sherwood then I could have ever imagined. I was happy and settled and back with Sam. Then suddenly my father returned. And the house became his again.
It happened just like that. Smoothly and without any awkwardness. Now as I walk up to the front door, I’m going back in time. Not to my late twenties before Sherwood, or even the stretches of time I spent here during the trials. But to when I was a teenager and my life was both coming together and falling apart at the same time.
I step inside and close the door behind me. After a moment of just being in the space again, I take my bags down the hall to my room and set them on the bed. I want to jump straight into my investigation, but it’s getting late. There’s nothing I can do tonight other than research and make notes so I’m more prepared to go to campus in the morning.
Other than that, all I can do is wait.
Chapter Forty-One
Thirteen years ago…
Emma knocked on the office door and took a breath to settle the nervous feeling lodged in her chest. The feeling hadn’t gone away in the two days since she’d realized Julia was missing. She’d waited at the house for hours, calling her and leaving voicemails until the inbox said it was full and wouldn’t accept anymore.
She’d left text messages and started social media accounts just so she could check Julia’s posts to see if there was any movement. She couldn’t find anything. She never heard from her and couldn’t find any indication of where she was or what she was doing.
The next day, Emma went to her apartment and talked to her roommate. Lynn couldn’t give her very much information. The two of them didn’t get along terribly well, but at least she could tell Emma that she’d had a conversation with her just a few days before. But after that, Lynn went to spend a couple of days with her boyfriend before he left campus for the holidays. She didn’t know what happened to Julia after that.
Emma was desperate. She was afraid something was wrong and needed to find out what had happened. That brought her back to campus and to the offices of each of the professors she had heard Julia talking about.
“Come on in,” a voice said from the other side of the office door.
Emma opened it and looked inside. “Professor Harris?”
“Yes?” he said, looking at her with confusion in his eyes. “Can I help you with something?”
Emma walked further into the office. “My name is Emma Griffin. I think a friend of mine is in one of your classes. Julia Meyer?”
He seemed to think about it for a moment, then the flash of recognition went through his eyes.
“Oh, yes, Julia. I’m sorry. It’s the end of the semester, which means everything is in total chaos. I’m trying to grade several hundred blue books. After a while they all kind of meld together along with everything else that used to be in my brain. So, Julia. Yes, I believe she was in one of my seminars last semester. Maybe two semesters ago,” he said.
“She wasn’t in any of your classes this semester?” Emma asked.
“No,” he said. “Is there some sort of problem?”
“Julia is missing,” Emma said.
His eyes widened. “Missing?”
“At least, I think she is. We were supposed to get together to study for finals, but she never showed up to the library or to my house. I called her over and over, left her messages, texted her. I can’t find her, and nobody I spoke to knows where she is. It’s been a couple of days and I still haven’t heard from her,” Emma said.
“Did you go to her dorm?”
“She doesn’t live in the dorms. She lives in one of the student apartment buildings. I went and spoke with her roommate, but she doesn’t know where Julia is, either. She wasn’t in the apartment for a couple of days, so she doesn’t know the last time that Julia was there,” Emma said.
“Were her belongings there?” he asked.
“A few things,” Emma said. “She had already moved most of her things out before Thanksgiving. She and her roommate didn’t get along very well, so I think she was hoping to move to a different apartment at the beginning of next semester. But there were a few things her roommate said were left in the living room. Then some laundry that was in a basket in the hallway. But everything in her room was gone.”
The professor got a slight, almost condescending smile on his face and folded his fingers together on his desk.
“She doesn’t get along with her roommate. Her belongings are gone. It’s the end of a semester. Did you consider that maybe she just went home?” he asked.
“She had another final,” Emma said. “It was one she really needed to study for and was concerned about. She just applied for the graduate program and wanted to make sure her grades stayed really high. That was the whole reason we were getting together the other day. I was going to help her study as much as possible right up until the test.”
“Maybe she got it rescheduled,” he said. “Or she decided that the pressure was too much and just walked away. That happens. Try not to worry about her too much. She’ll probably show back up in the next few days with some sort of elaborate excuse, begging her professor for another chance at her final. Just concentrate on getting your own finals finished and then go enjoy the holidays.”
Feeling discouraged, Emma nodded and left the office.
There were only two more names on the list of professors she had heard Julia talking about. She wished she could have gotten more information from any of the ones she had already spoken with. Even the ones who were teaching her this semester didn’t seem to have a lot of insight into Julia. For the most part, they said she kept to herself and wasn’t one of those students who got immensely involved.
The only exception was Professor Altonen. She still wasn’t especially close to Julia but had worked with her more on an individual basis than the others. Her marketing class had devised an Opportunity Fair for the students, and all of them had worked shifts at the booths they’d set up to encourage more involvement around campus, jobs, internships, and so on.
The fair gave the professor the chance to spend time with Julia outside of regular class hours, but even still she couldn’t say much about her. Mostly that she always seemed busy and rushed. That she put a lot of pressure on herself and had extremely high expectations for her own success. But she was also cooperative and kind. Smart and driven; all things Emma already knew. She was getting discouraged by not being able to find out anything more about her friend. Someone had to know mor
e.
Now
“Professor Harris?”
I look around the door into the office and see the professor sitting behind the desk, scrolling through something on his tablet. It’s a much larger office than the one he was in thirteen years ago, but little else has changed. He’s still sitting surrounded by books and papers. I’m pretty sure the shelves beside him are the exact same ones that were in the corner of the more crowded room.
He has definitely changed. When he looks up at me, I can see the effect of the years on his face and in his eyes.
“Yes? Come on in,” he says.
I step inside and close the office door behind me. I walk toward him, taking in the lines around his eyes and the hints of gray starting at his temples. They remind me of Sam. Only, this man is much older. The bits of gray streaking through Sam’s hair are a gift of genetics. For the professor, they are a result of years of gradual changes to his body.
I realize as I look at him, he was probably only a few years older than I am now when I went to school here. Just like many of the other teachers. Of course, there were some who had already been teaching for decades by the time I passed through their classrooms. But there were more just really settling into their careers.
That was Professor Harris. As I look back now, I realize how young he was. And yet, he seemed so adult, even a little old. He’s thirteen years older than that now, and yet the way my brain has grown and changed, I no longer consider him old.
Just older. Just more experienced in the world. I can only hope that’s how I’ll be able to see myself twenty years from now.
“I’m sorry to just show up here without an appointment,” I start. “I know you’re trying to wrap up for the end of the semester. I don’t know if you remember me. You actually have absolutely no reason to remember me. I wasn’t ever in your class, but I came by to talk with you once.”
