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I haven’t.
But my gaze does find the opening to a darker side street that cuts between the buildings, and I can’t help but be transfixed, now that I’ve seen it. Is she down there? Hurt, or maybe with some sort of medical problem?
And am I really going to walk down what’s basically a dark alley, before the sun has risen? Taking a deep breath, I clutch thepurse more tightly. If something has happened to her, or she’s hurt, shouldn’t I help?
Well, not according to my brain, which is screaming at me to go the other way, call the cops, or just forget this ever happened. But I don’t listen, because obviously I’m not having a hard enough time with my life right now and need a little extra spice.
I don’t hesitate once I’ve decided. I quickly walk down the alleyway, strides long and confident, though I don’t feel anything of the sort. My eyes search the shadows, and when darkness swallows up the street, I fish out my phone once more and turn my light back on to see my surroundings.
Instantly, I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d stayed away, that I’d done anything but this. The purse falls from my fingers and I stare at the woman, at Mikayla Hayes, leaning against one side of the alleyway with her eyes open wide, unseeing, and her throat cut so deeply, the wound still gapes and drips with blood that’s almost black in the light from my phone.
Things move quickly once I’ve somehow called the cops, and in my head it’s almost like a slideshow playing in front of my eyes, instead of real time. They show up and drag me away, asking me questions I barely hear over the white static in my brain. All I can do is stare at them, mumbling responses to their questions, as I’m backed up and told tostay.
Stay,they tell me, as the crime scene tape is unfurled and hooked around the buildings leading into the street.
Stay,I think; with my feet planted on the sidewalk, feeling like they’ll never move again.
Stay.
I’m not a dog, but all I can do is stand here, stare at them, and watch the ambulance with its blaring sirens come right up onto the sidewalk with the back doors open wide like arms to receive the dead lady.
It takes me until then to realize I’m no longer the only person here. Someone tries to talk to me, to ask what happened, but I only shake my head like I have no idea. The cops had said tostay, so I’ll stay. But I won’t tell anyone else that I was the one who found her.
I was the one who got here first, and—
“Love.” The sharp use of my name drags me out of my thoughts and I jerk around just as a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. My movement forces it off, just as my eyes find the deep caramel gaze of my least favorite professor.
“Professor Solomon?” I mumble through numb lips, confused as to how he’s materialized behind me. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer, but then again, he’s also transfixed on the body being loaded into the ambulance. “Are you all right?” he asks, eyes finding mine again as his attention falls completely on me.
“Y-yeah,” I lie, sure my face is as white and clammy as my hands are. “I’m fine, I—”
“You don’t look fine. Did you know her?” Is there expectation in his voice? Resignation? Does he hesitate when he asks, like I think he does? Or am I simply just imagining that he’s giving me any signs of having a personality at all?
“Why?” I ask stupidly, not really understanding why I’ve done it. His eyes narrow, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Because you look like you knew her,” he says at last. “You seem really shaken up by this, Blair.”
Blair. Has he ever used my name before? I wasn’t sure he was capable, until right now. But his words drag the hairs on the back of my neck up and at attention, and I don’t answer him right away.
“No,” I say at last. “I didn’t know her.” But something’s wrong here. Warning bells are sounding in my head as I look athim, and that feeling of unease hits me in the gut once more. The same one that I’ve been feeling for weeks.
He shouldn’t be here. This feels like something more than coincidence, and I side step around him as a flicker of irritation crosses his features.
He isn’t concerned for me, I realize. He wants to knowwhatI know, and who she is to me.
“I have to go home,” I murmur, my heart in my throat. A frown touches his lips, but he shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Just don’t get arrested if the cops are still trying to talk to you,” he advises in a bored, dry tone. But I know better. I’ve seen that this isn’t nothing to him.
“I can take care of myself,” I promise, taking a step back, then another. He only looks at me once, the disinterest fading in his eyes as I retreat from him like a frightened deer. Something in his look changes, for only a second. Anticipation, or excitement, maybe? It’s gone too fast for me to tell, and he only shrugs again, as if he could care very little.
Without another word, I flee from him, and I stop by one of the officers to make sure they don’t need anything else from me before I head back to my apartment, long strides eating up the distance between him and my locked doors.
Chapter 16
It’s not until Juniper texts me and reminds me she won’t be back until Monday afternoon, that I realize how alone I am. I remember she’d told me last night, before I’d gone to sleep, that she was leaving around two in the morning to get on her flight home, but I hadn’t even thought about it until now.
