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Frat boys, if the Greek letters painted on their bare backs were anything to go by. Couldn’t resist starting the party early. Students clapped and cheered the streakers on.
Ruckus Royale officially didn’t begin until that night, but for some, the party was an all-day event.
I weaved through groups blasting music and dancing on the lawn. A few had the beers going round. It was eight in the morning.
The Bedlam men and women brought the wildness, debauchery, and public orgies, and the Kings provided the venue, music, alcohol, and entertainment. If they wanted to one-up last year’s Ruckus, and Cairo seemed like the kind of guy who would, they’d be much too busy today to chase me down.
Rounding the chemistry building, I entered Burnett Hall from the back. My class was two floors up and at the end of the hall. I made it without incident. Now to avoid Cairo for the next three hundred and fifty-nine days.
Faith, the teaching assistant, stood beside Professor Valdez’s desk, passing us handouts.
“Thanks, Faith. You are killing it in that dress.”
“Rainey, you’re such a ray of sunshine. Your parents gave you the wrong name.”
I thanked her and claimed a seat in the third row. I’d say my parents weren’t too far off with my name. Spending most of my life as the introverted farm girl who said more to her chickens than she did anyone outside the property line didn’t earn most the title of people person.
My habit of complimenting every woman I ran into was recent. Started up not too long after I received a black letter.
It was silly, and in the end, wouldn’t make a difference, but I didn’t know the girl he chose to be his sacrifice. The girl who would die if I failed. So, the very least I could do was make her smile. Whoever she was, wherever she was. Grant her genuine, unasked-for kindness before a monster reminded the world why it was so rare.
I bent over my desk, brushing a hand over the pocket. I gripped it tight as I gazed at Faith. I was still giving compliments because Ruckus Royale was that night, and I didn’t have him.
Squeezing my eyes shut, my jaw clamped tight. What was Cairo’s wrath in the face of an innocent woman’s murder? If it was a woman. The letters said nothing about her age. What would I do if a child was in his sights? How long would it take me to slit my fucking wrists after they broadcasted her death?
Cairo didn’t matter. All that did was finding the right name connected to Douglas Herbert, and after five days of digging up everything there was on him, I believed I did.
I thought this was the hard part, finding the name. Nothing compares to holding the name of the person you’re supposed to stop in your hands, and having no way of proving their innocence or guilt. How could I?
I followed him the day before and all he did was drive home from work, kiss his girlfriend at the door, and stay inside till I finally left at two a.m.
What did the average killer do to give themselves away? Keep trophies?
Of the twenty-six unsolved murders and disappearances in Bedlam, I didn’t know who his victims were to connect them to a trophy. I didn’t know the first thing about breaking and entering to bust in his place and find them anyway. It left me with only one option, and if I was wrong, I wouldn’t get another chance.
I opened my eyes and met Jacques’s. He stood at the bottom of the stairs in all six feet of his tall, dark, and handsome glory, fixed on me. My skin tightened as he passed the first row, second row, and turned down the third.
What is he doing here? He’s not in this class.
The backpack slung over his shoulder defied the thought. My classes were Bedlam Boy-free. They were my safe haven from Cairo and his army of foot soldiers. He couldn’t seriously have sent Jacques in here after me. They couldn’t be so powerful that a professor would turn a blind eye. Then, an even worse idea occurred to me.
Jacques Stone was the son of a judge. Wasn’t it entirely possible he was a prelaw student too?
No, I thought as he sat down next to me. This was not happening. I couldn’t be so unlucky that of all the classes he adds and drops, he had to end up in one of mine.
I openly studied him. I could count each muscle that flexed as he took out his notebook, pen, and water bottle. I watched his lips form a perfect “o” to take a sip. Jacques must’ve noticed my attention, though he didn’t acknowledge it.
He doesn’t have to. All he has to do is text his buddy, and Cairo will be waiting for me.
