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She creeped out from behind the counter to join the group. This could only be about his fight with Dorian. But the campus police had already questioned everyone last night. If Logan was in any trouble, wouldn’t they have done something about it then?
Checking out their uniforms and patches, she realized they worked for the city, not the university. Maybe a different law enforcement agency wanted to take different measures.
She itched to reach out and touch Logan, just to reassure him and herself everything was going to be okay. But by the stiff, formal way the men stood, soothing touches seemed forbidden. Curling her arms around her body, she hovered just beside Logan as one officer pulled out a notepad and the other asked if they could question him.
“Mr. Xander,” he started, his voice brooking no room for jokes. “Were you aware Dorian Wade died in his dorm room late last night?”
Chapter Thirty-One
PAIGE GASPED ALOUD. The two cops glanced her way. Staring back, she stumbled in reverse until she sank into a nearby chair.
Sheet white, Logan stared at her for the longest time before he turned back to the cops.
“No.” He shook his head. His voice sounded too hoarse to be healthy, and he looked as if he might pass out. “No, I…I…I had no idea. Oh God, how did he die? Was it some kind of blood clot? I hit him so hard, I…” Losing his voice, he bowed his head and bent his shoulders in over his body.
No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. If another person died after getting into a fight with him, Logan would lose it. And she would lose him to his own self-torment.
“He was shot at close range…four times,” one of the cops said.
“What?” Paige sprang to her feet, not expecting this answer at all. “Shot? With a gun?”
She wished it had been one of those moments when someone would roll his eyes and snicker, saying, “No, he was shot with a spoon.” She needed a comedic break right about now. But no one even cracked a smile. The seriousness of the situation ricocheted through her with a full-body tremble.
Dorian Wade had been shot with a gun.
And killed.
The same night he’d tried to rape her.
“Oh, God,” Logan repeated, straightening. He blew out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank God.”
When both policemen frowned, he flushed. “I mean, not thank God he’s dead. Just…that I didn’t kill him from our fight. I just—” He shook his head as if realizing he should stop talking before he incriminated himself further.
“When was the last time you saw the victim, Mr. Xander?”
“Last night,” Logan croaked. He looked as if he were about to empty his stomach. Paige wondered how he was still standing. “At the…at the party.”
“At the fraternity house where you engaged him in a fight?” the officer asked.
Logan nodded, closing his eyes.
“You didn’t see him again after that?”
This time Logan shook his head. “No.”
“Where were you from between midnight last night and six this morning?”
When it struck her where he’d been, Paige gasped again. Both officers turned toward her. She slapped her hands over her mouth and gaped back before quickly lowering her fingers.
“He was with me,” she admitted, shocked she was actually his alibi.
This seemed to take the men by surprise. “And you are…?” The cop asking all the questions shifted intimidatingly closer to her.
“Paige Zukowski.” Her voice was small as she answered.
The uniform taking notes paused halfway through his writing and looked up. “You’re the…”
“The girl Dorian attacked,” she finished. “Yeah.”
