Page 75 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

“Thursday works.”

He nodded once, picked up both our bags, and stood. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

Behavioral Analysis was at eleven in a smaller hall across the quad. Jackson kept his hand at the small of my back the whole way there. We sat together near the middle. Sterling spent the hour on victim selection patterns in serial offenders. I took notes. Jackson’s attention stayed divided between the lecture and me.

When class ended and the hall started emptying, I waited until most of the students had left.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, already stepping toward the door.

“I’ll find you,” Jackson said.

The bathroom was empty when I pushed the door open. I dropped my bag by the sink, used the toilet, then washed my hands at the far basin. I was reaching for a paper towel when the door swung open behind me.

Naomi walked in with two of her friends close behind her. They spread out just enough to block the exit.

I dried my hands slowly and turned.

“I told you I’d find out,” Naomi said.

“Find out what?”

She tilted her head, a small satisfied smile on her mouth. “Harper James. Twenty-three. Transferred from Northlake. You’ve been living with your aunt Janet since you were thirteen because your parents died in a fire.”

I tossed the paper towel, and leaned back against the sink with my arms crossed.

“It’s a sad little story,” she continued. “Except I couldn’t find a single school photo. No childhood friends. No local articles about the fire. Nothing. It’s like Harper James just… appeared at thirteen.”

She stepped closer.

“So what is it? Witness protection? Some foster kid your aunt decided to give a full backstory? Or something else?”

I kept my face blank.

“I haven’t told Jackson yet,” she said. “I figured I’d give you the chance to do it yourself. Or better — leave town before I have to.”

“You went digging.”

“Obviously.”

“And that’s all you found?”

“It’s enough for a start.” Her smile turned mean. “So here’s the deal. You leave Jackson alone. Drop his lectures. Stop sitting with him. Stop touching him in the hallways. Go back to being the quiet runner in the corner of the cafeteria. By Friday. Do that, and I’ll forget I noticed any of this.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I keep looking. And I’ll make enough noise that the right people start looking too. Cops. Reporters. Pack security. Whoever feels like asking questions.”

She smiled, waiting.

I considered it for a second. She had theories, not proof — Brian had made sure of that.

I glanced toward the ceiling. No cameras. That made things simpler.

“You really did your homework, Nicole.”

A muscle ticked at her jaw. “It’s Naomi.”

“Right.” I shrugged. “This changes nothing.”