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“No.” He stepped toward her, studying her with a brooding gaze. “I don’t believe you. You’ve never accepted that Nat killed herself.”
“None of us could accept it. Not when it meant we’d been so blind,” she insisted. “Or so selfish not to realize she was in pain.”
“Nat was a fighter.” His tone was harsh. “I would more easily believe that she killed someone in a fury than that she’d taken her own life.”
Her lips parted to inform him that there was no debating how Nat had died. The sight of her sliced wrists were forever burned into her mind. But she couldn’t deny that he had a point. When Nat was hurt she didn’t sulk. She struck out with a vengeance. Once, an older student had broken a window in the conservatory playing field hockey and blamed it on Rayne, who was punished by being left cleaning up the damage when the rest of her class went into the Alps to enjoy a day of skiing. Rayne was willing to forget the incident, but not her fiery roommate. In retaliation for the lie, Nat had taken pictures of the girl’s private diary and posted them throughout the school.
Rayne frowned. Was Niko right? Was the reason she’d been incapable of processing her friend’s death not only been the horror of finding her body, but some inner suspicion that there was something wrong? No. She shook away the strange sense of foreboding that threatened to settle in the pit in her stomach.
“I know what I saw,” she stubbornly insisted. “Her wrists were slit and there was no sign of a struggle in the room. She wouldn’t have just lay there and let someone do that.”
Niko clenched his teeth, glancing away, as if struggling to control a powerful emotion. “When my parents flew Nat’s body back to the States, I insisted on an autopsy. I was certain there had to be some other answer for her death.”
“And?”
He glanced back, his eyes shadowed. “They found opioids in her system.”
“Opioids,” Rayne breathed in shock. “Why didn’t your parents say anything?”
“They were afraid she’d become addicted to drugs and that’s why she decided to kill herself.”
“Never.” The word burst from Rayne’s lips before she could halt it.
“I agree. I think it’s more likely someone slipped her enough opioids to knock her out and then sliced her wrists.”
Rayne released a shaky breath. The information that drugs had been found in Nat’s body changed everything. It wasn’t that illegal substances were never smuggled into the school. They were teenagers who had the typical desire to flaunt authority, along with enough money to buy whatever they wanted. But never Nat. She was a health fanatic who was vegan long before it was fashionable, and up at dawn every morning to run five miles. She considered her body a temple. She would never, ever, pollute it with drugs.
Grudgingly, she allowed herself to consider the idea that Niko had been right. What if Nat hadn’t killed herself? That would mean . . .
“Who?” she at last muttered. “Who would do such an awful thing?”
“That’s the question.” He held her horrified gaze. “Can you remember anyone who was mad at Nat? Did she say anything about being in an argument?”
Rayne shook her head. “Everyone loved Nat.”
He waved the note. “Not everyone.”
“There were certainly girls who were jealous of her,” Rayne conceded. “But I can’t imagine that would drive them to murder.”
Niko paused, as if lost in his thoughts. Then, with an obvious effort, he squared his shoulders.
“You said there were mementos from school in the box?”
“Yes. Along with a few cards. Oh and some photos.”
“Photos of what?”
“See for yourself.”
Rayne moved to where he’d set down the box and flipped open the lid. Reaching inside, she pulled out the pictures and placed them in his outstretched hand.
He glanced down, his brow furrowing as he studied the top photo. “A horse?”
A reminiscent smile curved her lips as Rayne turned so she was standing side by side with Niko.
“She took the picture the day I moved into her dorm room.”
“I suppose that could have special meaning,” he said, pointing his finger toward the shadowed form at the back of the stable. “Who’s that?”
