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“Enough!” Burdette stepped in. “All things considered, you should both be happy to have a roommate. More security.”
“Why do we need a bathroom buddy,” Shay asked, “when there are cameras and spy equipment all over the friggin’ school? In fact, you should know exactly who killed Nona. Isn’t it all on tape? Hasn’t the school turned the tapes over to the cops? That would make it pretty easy, wouldn’t it? Check the tapes, see who attacked Nona and Drew in the stable.”
“It’s not that easy.” Burdette’s face was stone cold.
Shay shook her head. “This is basic stuff, Dr. Burdette. You can see it on any episode of CSI or Law and Order or Forensic Files.”
“Things are easy on television, all neatly tied up in forty-eight minutes.” Burdette glanced up at the sprinkler head for a second, as if to make certain the camera was in place, then said, “Good night, ladies.”
The door whispered shut behind her, and Shay was left staring at Crystal. “There are no cameras, are there?”
The girl with the dragon tattoo finally grinned. “So all the hype about you was right. You are smart, aren’t you?”
“Is there a meeting tonight?” His right-hand man’s voice crackled over a walkie-talkie.
Hidden in the shadows of the tree line, the Leader glanced around the campus. Dressed in black ski clothes that cut the windchill, he made note of the changes, security measures that had been enforced faster than he’d anticipated.
Despite the chaos around him, despite his need to be with his followers again, despite the roar of blood pulsing in his ears whenever he saw Shaylee Stillman, he decided a meeting of the disciples would only put those he cared for in danger. He would have to be strong. Patient. Clear-thinking.
“Not tonight.” It was too dangerous. The sheriff’s deputies were combing the campus on horseback, in four-wheel vehicles, even with cruisers and boats on the frigid lake. Armed with shotguns, rifles, scopes, pistols, night-vision equipment, and dogs, law enforcers were out in full force. That would die down, of course. The small, rural department didn’t have the manpower to keep up the full-frontal attack for long.
“What about the inner circle?” asked his most trusted assistant, his voice so eager. So ready. So burning with fire for the cause …
Or was he? Perhaps this subordinate had his own ambitions. Perhaps he, the person he trusted most, was the reason things were spinning out of control.
“Soon. We just have to wait a few days. We can’t arouse suspicion. I’ll let you know when the time is right.” He clicked off, the static receding, the wail of the wind filling his ears.
Fortunately, the weather was on his side, emergency personnel working around the clock. The sheriff’s department would have to limit the number of personnel they sent to the campus when there were desperate calls for help elsewhere—downed wires, blown transformers, car accidents, people freezing in their homes, abandoned vehicles, and stranded travelers. Even the Oregon State Police had their hands full in the arctic blast that dropped temperatures far below freezing and dumped snow and ice all over the state.
Still, he had to be careful.
For now, he couldn’t risk being followed or exposed.
The snow on the ground would make tracking much too easy, though the more powder that was predicted to fall in the next few days, the harder for the dogs, horses, and vehicles to get around. Even the frantic parents wouldn’t be able to reach their darling delinquents.
He glanced to the sky, where opaque clouds blocked the stars. More snow was predicted, the pressure system bearing down in what newscasters were calling “the storm of the century.”
That, he liked.
If things got worse and the concern about Nona Vickers’s death died down, then he could get back to work. It depended upon Andrew Prescott, he supposed, whether he made it or not. He squinted into the night, not understanding how all of his plans, so well formulated, seemed to be unraveling.
Be patient. You can handle this.
The wind picked up again, whispering through the woods, slapping at his face, cooling his blood, forcing clarity to overcome passion. The flakes of snow had become tiny, icy pellets that indicated a blizzard on its way.
Good.
The more the campus was cut off from the rest of the world, the better.
Tonight, he would force himself to remain quiet. Tonight he would rein in his emotions. Soon there would be time for his ultimate goals.
He walked with purpose to his own quarters.
No one would think twice about him being out at this hour, as long as he was alone. Which was just the way he wanted it. Until he sorted things out.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Jules made her way to the den, where the flickering gray light of a television drew her like a magnet, pulling her closer. She knew that something was wrong in the room. It felt empty and cold, as if the dark spirit of bad luck had passed through.
