Dark Turns (21 page)

B
attle’s office was lit like a bunker. Navy curtains hid the large windows, blocking the view of the lake below. The heavy fabric absorbed the light emanating from the ceiling, darkening the room’s cream walls to the color of decayed newspaper.

Ms. V joined Battle and Dean Stirk behind a walnut desk. A campus security officer stood by the curtains. His presence surprised Nia. Did a cop need to be involved because spiking a drink was a crime? Would he get Aubrey after she explained what the girl had done? Had he picked her up already?

Nia sat on the edge of an upholstered chair positioned opposite the trio. The faculty’s expressions matched the
room’s grim mood. Nia welcomed their frowns. What Aubrey had done to Lydia couldn’t be excused by a stellar performance.

Battle adjusted his tie. The group’s formal clothing was more buttoned-up than Nia’s black dress. She’d chosen a deep V neck, thinking she would spend the night with Peter after the performance. The cut wasn’t appropriate for a meeting with the bosses. She pushed her hair over her shoulders, partially filling in the neckline.

“We called you here because of a substantial allegation that we must investigate thoroughly,” Battle said.

Dean Stirk punctuated Battle’s statement with a sharp nod. Ms. V hung her head. Maybe the Russian wouldn’t fight Nia’s allegations against Aubrey. Perhaps she felt horrible for failing to notice her favorite student’s ruthlessness.

Nia fought the urge to launch into an anti-Aubrey tirade. She couldn’t seem too eager to tell the teachers all the girl’s horrible actions. They would wonder why she hadn’t come forward earlier—when she’d picked Aubrey up from a nightclub, for example.

Stirk cupped her chin in her palm and stared. “You don’t seem shocked?”

“I thought we might need to talk eventually about—”

“And you know these allegations are sexual in nature?”

Nia’s back stiffened. “No. Lydia’s ankle was broken. I didn’t think anything—”

Battle pulled his chin into his neck, a theatrical demonstration of disgust that made him resemble a tortoise retreating into a shell. “We are not here to discuss a student falling down the stairs, Ms. Washington. We are here to discuss a teacher making advances toward a student.”

“What?”

“You made clear sexual advances toward Aubrey.” Ms. V spat the words. “We saw the texts.”

The room spun. Nia gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ms. V raised her hand like a policeman halting traffic. Battle cleared his throat.

“Aubrey came to us just before the fall show alleging that you propositioned her,” Battle said. “She showed us several text messages sent from your phone in which you suggest performing lewd acts with her and another student.”

Nia’s chin dropped. No words emerged from her open mouth. Her face tingled as though regaining sensation after a hard strike. Tears stung her eyes. She fought them back. Crying could be misinterpreted as an admission of guilt rather than shock and stress.

“Lydia. Who I left in your care,” Ms. V nearly shouted. “No wonder the girl took those sedatives. She probably had trouble sleeping knowing that a teacher—”

Battle patted Ms. V’s hand, shutting her up. Nia struggled to process the new information. Lydia had taken sedatives? Had the toxicology report come back?

Dean Stirk shook her head. She folded her hands on top of the desk, assuming a lawyer’s position. “The text messages we saw constitute a clear violation of the school’s policies on student-teacher communication as well as state laws on corrupting minors and sexual assault.”

“It’s not true.” The words finally tumbled out, falling over one another and rushing together. “I never sent Aubrey any text messages. I don’t even know her number. I didn’t—”

“There was a photo of her and Lydia in a suggestive position that was sent from your phone to Aubrey’s cell,” Battle said.

Nia racked her brain. Aubrey and Lydia were barely together, and never alone with one another. Could Aubrey have faked an image with photo editing software?

“Other students remember you taking the picture.”

Aubrey’s voice came back to her.
Let’s get a pic of us in penchée position. It will make a cool shot for the yearbook
. She had taken that photo of Aubrey and Lydia during practice. But the picture was of a well-known dance position. It wasn’t suggestive—to a dancer.

Battle continued. “Aubrey said that, soon after, you began sending text messages in which you made sexual comments about the photo and suggested meeting after class.”

Anger finally melted through Nia’s shock. She jumped from the chair as if scalded. “That is a complete fabrication. I never, ever texted her. I did take a photo of Aubrey and Lydia practicing, at their request. Aubrey said she wanted to submit it to the yearbook. Then she took my phone and sent it to herself. You can ask Lydia. I never even knew Aubrey’s number.”

Ms. V fixed her with a look that threatened to reach across the table and strangle the recipient. “So you admit that her number was in your phone. But, before, you said you didn’t have it. And you admit to sending a photo to Aubrey, though, before, you claimed to have not sent her anything.” The Russian’s voice rose with each sentence. “I should have known when Marta and Aubrey avoided you—”

“Irina, please,” Battle’s voice matched Ms. V’s volume. “Let me finish telling Ms. Washington the charges against her.”

Charges? Did they plan to report Aubrey’s lies to the police? Had they already called the cops?

The walls seemed to close in around her. How could she defend herself? Lydia would say that she never received
any messages, but that didn’t mean Aubrey hadn’t. And she would never get Aubrey to admit the truth.

How many years behind bars did someone get for sexting a minor? Probably just enough to ruin her ballet career forever.

“Ms. Washington.” Battle patted the air, motioning for her to return to her seat.

Nia fell into her chair. Her throat felt inflamed. She took a breath to compose herself. She needed to think. She’d sent the photo, but not any messages. How could Aubrey send texts from Nia’s phone?

Detective Kelly’s explanation came back to her. Aubrey knew how to spoof texts.

“Aubrey must have made the messages appear to come from my phone.”

“And how would she do that?” Ms. V’s French accent had disappeared. She sounded like a Russian.

“There’s an app called SMStealer. It allows people to mask sender information with another number.”

Battle chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “So you are saying that someone may have sent Aubrey the messages pretending to be you?”

Nia stared straight at Battle. “I did not send Aubrey any messages. I believe she faked those texts to get me fired.”

Ms. V’s smirk bent into a frown that carved deep crevices on both sides of her mouth. She looked all of her scowling, sixty years. “That’s ridiculous. Why would our best student have it out for you? Jealousy?”

The world stopped swirling. For the first time, connections emerged. She could see Aubrey’s motivations clearly now.

There was a reason Aubrey would go to such great lengths to ruin her reputation, but jealousy wasn’t it. Neither was
the fear that Nia would reveal the truth about Lydia. Aubrey had been after her long before that.

There was only one reason Aubrey would want Nia gone this badly: Lauren Turek.

Aubrey had killed Lauren and set up Theo for the murder as punishment for the sex tape. And Aubrey knew Nia could help prove it.

Ms. V’s face was the picture of disdain. Nia angled her body to face Battle and Stirk. The dean’s expression appeared disappointed and concerned but not repulsed. Perhaps she believed her. Maybe, over the years, RAs had reported Aubrey’s bad behavior.

“I swear to you that I never sent any messages to Aubrey.” Nia kept her voice steady, level. She spoke slowly, letting each word resonate. “I have never said anything to a student that could be construed in a sexual manner. If you have police look at these texts, I am sure they will tell you that my information was fabricated.”

Nia wanted to add,
And that Aubrey did it
. But doing so would only encourage Ms. V to bring up Aubrey’s prior lie about her behavior with her so-called male visitor. Nia needed evidence first.

She stood. Her legs shook beneath her.

“We will do our best to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible,” Stirk said. “You are suspended, with pay, until we determine whether there is basis to these allegations. You must leave campus by tomorrow evening at six o’clock p.m.”

Stirk motioned to the campus security officer. “We will need you to turn over your cell phone to police so that they may determine whether you committed any terminable offenses.”

“You need my phone?”

Nia pictured the device in her purse. It was her main connection to the world outside of Wallace. She knew her mother’s and Dimitri’s numbers by heart, but no one else’s. Without her cell, how would she even check the train schedule or call a cab to leave?

“When you took the job here, you agreed to abide by school policies, not just state laws. It is school policy to collect devices after an alleged breach of school or state rules governing digital communications for evaluation by proper authorities.”

The last word triggered Nia’s self-preservation instincts. She needed to talk to the
authorities
.

Nia leaned into her handbag and removed her cell. “May I please get a couple numbers off the phone? Just so I can tell my mother and boyfriend where I’ll be?”

Dean Stirk nodded. Battle opened a drawer. He pushed a pad of paper and pen across the desk to her.

Nia retrieved Detective Kelly’s number from her call log. She put the phone on the desk where her bosses could see that she hadn’t deleted anything before copying the number on the piece of paper.

“Okay. That’s enough.” The campus officer appeared by her side. His gloved hands took the device from the desk and dropped it into a plastic ziplock bag, as though it were evidence in a real crime. Of course, propositioning a minor was a real crime. If found guilty, she could do real jail time.

“I am sure you’ll see I didn’t do anything,” she said, before hurrying from the room. Tears burned behind her eyes. She wouldn’t cry in front of her colleagues. She couldn’t cry at all. There wasn’t time.

She had to talk to Detective Kelly.

N
ia sprinted up the hill from the dance building to the boys’ quad. Adrenaline, more than the past three weeks of therapy, kept her from feeling pain in her feet. She couldn’t even sense the cold battering her chest. She needed to get to Peter. He had to take her to the state police station.

She reached the boys’ quad. No one hovered outside the door. Lights shone into the dark courtyard from the slits in closed blinds. She approached the nearest lit window and rapped on the glass.

“Open the door, please?”

The blinds cracked open. Brown eyes stared at her. Nia could see from a nose to a forehead. The window slats hid the lower half of the student’s face.

She pointed frantically to the building’s entrance. “Please. I need to get in.”

The blinds retracted. A young man with a book in his hand and a confused expression stood at the window. “Can’t.” He mouthed the word. “Sorry.”

“Please?”

The boy again shook his head. He cracked the window so she could hear him. “Didn’t you see the e-mail that went out? After that girl who hurt herself at Senior Samhain, the dean is threatening expulsion for letting girls into the dorm.”

Nia’s eyes welled. She was struggling to maintain composure. One more setback and she might lose it. “Can you get Mr. Andersen, please? Tell him it’s Nia.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped. He placed the book on his desk, turned, and walked out his door.

Nia listened for some sign of Peter. She couldn’t hear anything. A moment later, the lock to the front door clicked, and he burst through the entrance.

“Nia?”

The sound of his voice broke through the dam of adrenaline blocking her tears. They poured down her cheeks. Her hands fell to her knees. She thought she might be sick.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Peter’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. “I went backstage after the show. I couldn’t find you. What happened?”

She couldn’t get the words out through the sobs. He led her through the building to his room. She cried into his side. He felt like a flannel shirt: warm, familiar, safe.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay,” he said.

Peter brought her to his couch. The room looked neater than she’d remembered from that morning. The laundry had been put away. A citrusy, sanitized scent lingered in the air.

Nia tried to concentrate on her surroundings and not the emotions tearing through her body. Her torso shook from crying. She struggled to catch her breath.

“Aubrey accused me of sexting her.” The words bubbled out. “I just came back from a meeting with Dean Stirk, Battle, and Ms. V. They suspended me.”

Peter’s white skin turned a deep pink. His lowered brow shadowed his deep-set eyes. His lips pursed as though he didn’t like the taste of his own saliva. “Don’t worry.” He grabbed both her shoulders. “She won’t get away with this. I won’t let her.”

She’d seen Peter upset in the car last Saturday, but this was something else. This was rage.

Nia grasped his hand. Fury didn’t do her any good right now. She had a plan and she needed him to help her execute it.

“Listen, I think I know why she’s doing this to me.” Nia took a deep breath. “Aubrey killed Lauren and framed Theo. She wants to discredit me because she knows that I can prove it.”

The anger in Peter’s face morphed into something akin to fear, and he slumped onto the couch beside her. His pupils expanded like the room had suddenly gone dark. “What do you mean? You think she’s a m—”

Nia placed a hand on each of Peter’s cheeks. She needed him to look straight at her, to believe her. He couldn’t dismiss her theory as crazy talk from too much stress.

“Theo told us that he was meeting a girl off campus on the Saturday when Lauren was killed. He went to meet Aubrey. He made that tape with her.”

“The sex tape was with Aubrey?”

Peter pulled away. He moved to his own cushion and stared at her, as if trying to gain perspective on her story.

“It’s all over campus. And Aubrey confirmed as much to me a few weeks ago. My students were talking in class about Lauren’s death and I let it slip that I found the body. Later, Aubrey pulled me aside to ask if I’d seen police take anything from the crime scene that might prove Theo had murdered Lauren. She’d acted upset by the possibility that she might’ve been in danger, too. Now I think she really wanted to know if I’d seen police take anything that could be traced to her.”

Peter pushed his hair out of his face. “Nia, I know you hate this girl right now. But her asking what cops took from the crime scene doesn’t prove anything. Maybe she did want know if Theo was a murderer. Maybe she was still seeing him.”

“No. If it was just that, then why wouldn’t she have confessed to police that she’d asked to meet him and stood him up? We know from Theo that she didn’t back up his story.”

Peter got up and walked in front of her. “Maybe she thought Theo did it and didn’t want to give him a possible alibi.”

From his standing position, Peter appeared to look down his nose at her. Nia rose from the couch to better meet his gaze. He still towered over her, but standing made her feel stronger. She had to convince him.

“Aubrey hates Theo. Since he sent out that tape, she’s been teased by students. She can’t eat in the cafeteria by herself. She wanted Theo to go to jail as punishment.”

Peter’s hands curled into fists by his sides. It must have made him furious to know that not only had Aubrey accused her, but she’d also plotted to destroy the life of his favorite student. He stretched out his fingers and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Fine. She wanted Theo punished. But why do you think she’d kill Lauren?”

“I don’t think killing Lauren was about Lauren. The important thing is that she knew Theo would be blamed for Lauren’s death if she got him off campus, where he wouldn’t have an alibi, and then she faked a text from him to Lauren asking to meet.”

Peter shook his head as though he couldn’t connect the dots. But Nia knew she had the right picture. Aubrey was a murderer.

“Aubrey knew Theo wouldn’t fight her denial because the press would have had a field day with the sex tape. They would have said it was evidence that Theo was the kind of guy who disrespected women and could kill his ex-girlfriend.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. Nia saw bottle of Scotch. Peter removed the cork and put the bottle to his mouth. He took a long swig.

Peter winced as he swallowed. “I’m not sure I follow everything. But, assuming you’re right, I still don’t see why she’s involving you in all this.”

“Aubrey knows that I know she lied to the police.”

“How?”

Nia walked into the kitchen, chasing Peter in his own apartment. He was always fidgeting. Of course he wouldn’t be able to sit still through this conversation.

“When I confronted Aubrey about spiking Lydia’s drink, I told her that all her lies would come out. I mentioned her denial of setting up the meeting with Theo.” Nia took a deep breath. “She also knows that I told police about Marta seeing Theo in Claremont.”

“So you’re the reason Theo is free?”

“That’s one reason Aubrey wants me as far away from campus and the authorities as possible. She knows that I’m the reason her plan didn’t work. And she wants me fired for sexting so that when I tell the police about Lauren’s real killer, they won’t believe me. They’ll think I’m a sex offender trying to blame the person pressing charges.”

Peter’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He put the Scotch bottle back on the counter and pressed the glass cork into the top. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“But I’m right. The spoofed messages from me to her only prove it more.”

She grasped Peter’s free hands. He had to believe her. “I know it’s difficult to imagine a sixteen-year-old could be so conniving, but she is. Look at what she did to Lydia. The toxicology report came back. Ms. V said that Lydia took sedatives. Lydia wouldn’t have done that. Aubrey had to have put it in her drink, knowing it would make her loopy and have an accident that could cost her the fall show.”

Peter looked longingly at the corked Scotch bottle.

“Aubrey is just the kind of person a doctor would prescribe sedatives for. She told me once that she doesn’t sleep much. She’s up and dressed by five o’clock a.m. most mornings, even after going out.”

Air expelled from Peter’s lungs like the contents of a popped balloon. His body deflated. Nia wasn’t sure he bought her logic, but he’d given up arguing with her.

“So what do you want to do?”

“Aubrey can’t have told the state police about the texts yet or they would have arrested me,” Nia said. “I need to tell the police my theory before Aubrey gets to them.”