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He glanced up one last time and caught her staring at him. In that split second, he let his guard down, then quickly looked away. Pain cut through his soul. He knew what he had to do.
There was no doubt. No room for discussion.
Like it or not, Lauren Conway would have to die.
Chapter Two
Lauren couldn’t race out of the prayer meeting fast enough. Seconds after the final “Amen” had been whispered, she was out the door and heading back to the dorm.
Her friends had to hurry to catch up with her.
“Where’s the fire?” Nell demanded, half-jogging as she fell into step with Lauren.
“I’ve just got a lot of things to do.” Fear propelled Lauren; she’d felt the hostility in the meeting and it still lingered. She cast Nell a “don’t ask” glance. She couldn’t get into it right now.
The wind was picking up, its breath raw and cold as it howled through the canyon and churned up the dark waters of the lake.
Her breath fogging in the air, Banjo was complaining about an algebra assignment and Lucy was worried that the boyfriend she’d left back home in Portland was cheating on her.
Nell thrust her hands deep into her pockets. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a loser.”
“You don’t even know Brad,” Lucy shot back, wrapping her arms around her waist as they headed toward the dorm. Her black hair shined blue under the few lamp posts that had begun to glow.
Nell rolled her eyes. “Sor—ree. You clearly don’t trust him.”
“He wouldn’t cheat if he really loved you,” Nona Vickers added as she caught up with their group. She was, as always, fingering the cross dangling from a thin gold chain at her neck. She fell into step with them, despite a warning glare from Lucy.
Nona had never fit with the rest of the girls in their group and Lauren had never really gotten a bead on her, didn’t know what the slightly odd girl was thinking. Yet she insisted on hanging around, never taking the hint that she wasn’t part of their tightly knit group.
Oblivious to the fact that no one cared what she thought, Nona advised, “You should be able to trust your boyfriend.” She lifted a slim shoulder at the simplicity of the problem.
“Bite me,” Lucy muttered as they reached the dorm.
With an I-was-only-trying-to-help shrug and that bland, uncomfortable smile that allowed a glimpse of her too small teeth, Nona slipped through the open door to the dorm.
“Grrr.” Lucy glared at Nona’s back as they followed the supercilious girl inside and all of them headed up the stairs. “Who asked for her opinion anyway?” She said it loud enough for Nona and everyone around them to hear.
“She’s such a poser,” Nell whispered as they reached the second floor.
With one last haughty look over her shoulder, Nona peeled off on the second floor. The metal door banged shut behind her, echoing through the staircase.
Lucy, who was always a little nervous anyway, seemed to have taken Nona’s well-placed barb to heart. “You know, I hate to admit it, but she’s right. If I love him, I should be able to trust Brad. I should.”
“He has to earn it.” Banjo walked up the final flight of steps, her guitar in its camouflage case across her back. “Haven’t you been listening in group? Isn’t that what we all have to do? Earn trust? Earn respect?” Her green eyes twinkled beneath the shag of her bangs. “Such horse shit.” She headed into her room and the lock clicked loudly behind her.
Lauren left Lucy fretting about Brad’s wandering eye as she unlocked her own door and slipped into the room. Everything looked the same as when she’d left. Her pillow was still wadded in the corner of the bed, the impression of her body where she’d leaned against it still visible and all of the papers, books and pens she’d left on her desk were in the exact same position. Her laptop was still on, an open invitation if anyone was looking. The images running across its monitor were pictures of Lauren in various activities.
Everything appeared just as she’d left it.
And it felt the room hadn’t been searched. She’d memorized the exact position of her things before leaving and with her nearly photographic memory, she could ascertain if anything had been disturbed.
It hadn’t.
Nor was there any odd scent, no residual evidence that an intruder had stepped into her supposedly private domain.
Fleetingly she wondered what neat-nick, by-the-rules Dean Burdette would think of the messy room. No doubt she’d have the hissy fit of all hissy fits.
Too bad.
