Dark Turns (23 page)

A
cold, gray fog had descended on the campus, hiding the afternoon light. Nia followed Peter down the steps and onto the walkway, suitcase thumping behind her. The carry-on’s wheels were designed for linoleum floors or fresh asphalt, not cobblestones. Peter appeared to have an easier time carrying the large duffle propped atop his shoulder, even though it was far heavier.

Light rain fell. The drops dotted the walkway with dark spots the size of dimes. Nia wouldn’t miss running between the dance building and her dorm in bad weather. She would, however, miss teaching. Sadness weighed on her body, dragging her steps. She’d been a good instructor. Lydia had learned something in just a few weeks with her. What a shame to leave this way.

They walked around to the girls’ parking lot. As she turned the corner, a familiar voice shouted behind her.

“Aw, are you leaving?”

Nia turned to see Aubrey standing on the grass. Her long blond hair and tight, cropped sweater made her look like a Barbie doll. But the smirk was all sociopath.

Rage trembled through Nia’s extremities. She wanted to confront her, but it would be a mistake. Aubrey would just use the encounter as more ammunition for her lies.

“Bye, Ms. Washington. It’s been real.” Aubrey giggled. “Peter, I’ll see you in the dorms.”

Peter whirled to face the girl. “You won’t see either of us in the dorms, Aubrey. We’re getting an apartment together.”

The smile remained on Aubrey’s face, but the mirth drained from it. Nia guessed she was pissed to hear that her accusations hadn’t driven Nia all the way back to Manhattan.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yes, and no lie is going to change that,” he said. “Now leave us alone.”

Aubrey’s hands hit her hips. She stared at Peter, a predator sizing up prey.

“Just go.” Peter’s voice commanded.

Aubrey opened her mouth as if she planned to say something else. It closed in a scowl. She stormed off.

“I know you’re trying to defend me, but you didn’t have to do that,” Nia said. “You’re making yourself a bigger target for her.”

He kissed her head. “She should know that I’m going to protect you.”

Peter had parked in the handicap spot, closest to the entrance. The car beeped as the trunk popped open. He tried to push the duffle inside, pressing on its sides, squeezing
it into a more compact package. None of his efforts could force it into the sports car–sized compartment.

He yanked the bag back out. “Toss the carry-on in there. I’ll put this in the backseat.”

Nia hoisted the suitcase to her waist. Fatigue weighed on her arms. The plastic wheels hit the edge of the trunk as she pushed it into the car.

Two beams of light pierced the air. Nia turned to see a blue-and-white police beacon flashing from the dash of an unmarked car heading up the road. A campus cop car followed behind.

The vehicles pulled into the lot. Nia saw Detectives Kelly and Frank in the front seat of the unmarked sedan. They made eye contact as they exited the car. She caught a smile at the edge of Kelly’s mouth. It erased any fear that the detectives had come for her.

She shut the trunk and walked over.

Dean Stirk exited the campus vehicle with an officer in tow. Stirk appeared unkempt in a bulky Wallace sweatshirt and dress pants. For once, she’d really just thrown something on.

“Ms. Washington.” Nia’s name buzzed between the dean’s teeth. “The detectives informed me of your formal allegation against our student Aubrey Byrne. We treat all allegations with the utmost seriousness.” Stirk stared at Nia like a professor about to send someone to detention.

“Is it that building?” Kelly pointed to the dorm. The gray stone blended into the cement-colored sky, turning the building into a hazy mirage.

Instead of answering him, Stirk continued looking at Nia, as if waiting for her to suddenly confess.
Yes, I made the whole thing up. I propositioned Aubrey
.

Nia maintained eye contact. She had nothing to feel guilty about.

Frank cleared his throat. “It would be best if you returned to your room. We would like to speak to Ms. Byrne in private, and we may need to bring her back here.”

Nia looked over at the BMW. Peter sat in the driver’s seat, hand on the steering wheel. He wasn’t getting out of the car.

She held up a finger in his direction and mouthed “one minute” before turning back to the cops and Stirk. “Fine.”

“Well, go on,” Stirk snapped.

Nia ran back around the building and up the stairs. The wet soles of her shoes slipped against the hallway tile as she hurried into her room. She doubted either Stirk or the officers realized that she lived beside Aubrey. She wanted to be in her room before it dawned on them.

Peter’s concern repeated in her head as she slipped into her emptied apartment. She needed to hear whatever new accusations Aubrey made against her—or him.

The grief-counseling book lay abandoned on the empty kitchen counter. Nia shoved it beneath the door, propping open the entrance like the students did when they wanted to receive visitors. The book would finally be good for something.

Door secure, she hurried over to the window and looked down into the courtyard. The officers walked up the stairs and then waited, puzzled, by the door. The dean ran up and pressed a wallet to the keypad on the side.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Nia didn’t move from the window. She couldn’t let the detectives or the dean realize who lived in the neighboring unit.

Four steady knocks reverberated outside. A door creaked open.

“Hello?” Aubrey sounded puzzled but not afraid. Maybe she thought the police had come to ask her additional questions about her RA’s misconduct.

Nia moved into her doorway. She saw the group fanned out in profile in front of Aubrey’s room: Stirk, Detectives Kelly and Frank, and a campus cop.

“Aubrey,” Dean Stirk said. “There has been an allegation that you falsified text messages. These men are here to confiscate your cell phone for investigation.”

“I don’t understand.” Aubrey stepped into the hallway and closed her door behind her. “Why are there so many of you?”

More doors opened. Students peered at the scene in the hallway.

Dean Stirk stood up straighter. “Ms. Washington claims that you falsified the text messages, which would be a violation of the school’s electronic communications policy. We need your phone.”

“She’s just saying that to cover up what she did.” Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against her door. “You can’t take my phone if someone clearly makes up a story to get back at me.”

Detective Kelly stepped forward. “As we informed Dean Stirk, we believe an investigation is warranted.”

Aubrey pressed herself against the door. She grabbed the handle. “I didn’t realize that the police dictated school policy.”

“They don’t, Ms. Byrne.” Dean Stirk’s voice rose. Other students looked on. She would want to clarify school policy to her audience, not to mention put Aubrey in her place. “But we can’t selectively apply the rules. We must examine all electronic devices alleged to have used school resources to violate the rules governing this campus or this state.”

“Martha, it’s me.” Aubrey’s voice sounded hurt. Childlike. “You can’t honestly believe her after what she wrote to me.” The girl shuddered, as though she would cry. “She said such horrible things. I . . . I thought you would protect me.”

It took all Nia’s willpower not to run into the hallway and scream,
She’s lying!
Aubrey wasn’t just a great dancer. She was a powerful actress. Nia prayed her performance wouldn’t deter the dean or the detectives.

Dean Stirk stepped back. Her posture softened. In the sweatshirt, she almost looked like someone’s sweet grandmother, the kind that doled out cookies, despite bad behavior.

“Aubrey, I’m sorry. We—”

Detective Kelly stepped forward. “We believe Ms. Washington’s allegations could have merit and, in light of the recent murder on school grounds, your dean is doing everything in her power to enforce school rules and create a safe environment for all students and faculty. She has already given us permission to confiscate the property.”

Whispers slipped from the open doors. The dean whirled around, trying to find the source of the unseen chatter. Nia ducked inside.

“Students, I expect doors to close and for everyone to pay attention to their work.”

A few doors shut. Nia heard more open. She stepped back into her doorway and peered toward Aubrey’s room.

“I didn’t do anything,” Aubrey said again.

“I’m sure that if you just let these men take your phone, we can clear everything up.”

Aubrey turned to face the door. “Sure. I’ll get it for you.”

Detective Frank stepped forward. “No, Miss Byrne. That’s not gonna fly. We want to make sure everything that was on your phone stays on your phone.”

Aubrey opened the door. “No, really, I’ll get it.”

She disappeared into the room. Frank grabbed the door before she could slam it in his face.

“Hey!” she yelled. “What gives you the right—”

“Aubrey. Please don’t create a scene. Just let these men do their jobs,” Stirk said. “Perhaps it is all just a misunderstanding.”

Aubrey stepped into the hallway as the men disappeared into her room. She paced back and forth in front of Stirk, who tried to calm her down.

“They’ll just check your phone and, if you didn’t do anything, you’ll get everything back. Probably as soon as Tuesday. In the meantime, you can use the landline in the dorm if you need to call anyone.”

Aubrey buried her head in her hands. “How could you let them do this? After all I’ve been through?”

She pulled her hair back as if yanking it into a ponytail only to let it drop. She paced faster, a trapped lion hunting for a way out of the circus tent. Her body language screamed guilty.

Nia fought the smile threatening her face. The victim routine would not work for Aubrey this time. A mix of nerves and relief fizzed in her gut. A nervous chuckle slipped from her lips.

Aubrey whirled around at the sound. Blue eyes targeted her like electricity in a bug zapper.

“You bitch,” Aubrey hissed.

Dean Stirk’s body went rigid, as though the curse was directed at her.

Aubrey strode toward Nia’s door. “You think you’ve got me, don’t you? You think you can just get rid of me? Is that it? You think that you’ll go skipping off into the sunset with
your boyfriend?” Aubrey’s voice rose with each sentence until she was shouting. “That is not going to happen.”

Nia kicked the grief-counseling book, trying to dislodge it from beneath the door before Aubrey reached her.

Aubrey flung herself forward. The impact of the girl’s body sent Nia off balance. She fell backward into her room. Her butt hit the wooden floor. A sharp pain traveled from her tailbone up her spine.

Fists hit her sides. Nia’s arms went to her head, like a boxer. She rolled to her side with Aubrey on top of her, trying to protect her face from the blows. From the corner of her eye, she could see Aubrey’s arms waling her body.

“Restrain her. Somebody!”

Nia could just hear the dean yelling above the profanities spewing from Aubrey’s mouth.

Hands wrapped around the side of her neck. Fingernails scratched beneath her ears.

“That’s enough.”

The weight lifted from on top of her. A detective held each one of Aubrey’s arms. Kelly and Frank raised the girl into the air, hands around her biceps, like male partners in a pas de trois. Aubrey’s legs flailed, trying to run without touching the ground.

Nia rolled away to the breakfast bar and stood, using the counter for balance. Her side hurt. The skin on her neck felt raw. Fortunately, Aubrey had not landed many blows to her head.

“We are taking you in for assault.” Detective Frank pulled Aubrey’s hands behind her back as he rattled off her Miranda rights. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right . . .”

Cuffs clicked around Aubrey’s wrists. The sound of the metal seemed to subdue her. She stopped thrashing and
stood up straighter. She stared at Nia. An odd smile, equal parts sad and amused, wrenched the bottom half of her face.

“I sent you something, you know. A little good-bye present.” Aubrey looked at the ceiling. For a moment, it seemed as though the girl might actually cry.

Detective Kelly turned to Nia. “We got her phone. It’s going straight to our digital forensics department, along with your device. You should know by Monday.”

Dean Stirk stood in the doorway. A mix of horror and confusion wrinkled her face. “Ms. Washington, you still need to leave until we get this sorted out.”

“I know.” The words burned in her squeezed throat. “I’m all packed.”

Stirk’s heels clacked down the hallway, following the officer’s heavy footsteps. The downstairs door shut with a thud.

Nia wished for her phone. She wanted to open Aubrey’s “gift.”

N
ia patted a wet towel to her inflamed neck. She examined the damage in Peter’s bathroom mirror. Four raised, red welts marred the skin beneath her ear where Aubrey’s nails had drawn blood.

The sight of the scratches sent tremors through her body. She’d never been in a fight before, much less one with a murderer. The attack had erased whatever doubts she’d had about Aubrey’s guilt. The girl had gone for her jugular, just like with Lauren.

She couldn’t look at the injury anymore. She went into Peter’s living room and slumped onto his couch, wishing he were sitting beside her. He’d gone to get some bacitracin from the school store to soothe the marks on her neck. Once she applied it, they’d get out of here. Peter thought that bed and breakfast would take them for a few nights until they got an apartment and sorted out his RA replacement.

A clock ticked on his nightstand. Air hissed in the radiator. Aubrey’s face, contorted in a mask of rage, blared in her mind.
A little good-bye present
. What had she meant?

Whatever Aubrey had sent was electronic. Another text? But Aubrey knew that Wallace had confiscated her phone. An e-mail?

Nia opened a laptop on Peter’s desk. A screen with a blank space for a password appeared. He’d never told her his computer login. But he had provided the code to unlock his phone.

Nia typed in 0324. The computer’s home screen appeared. A captioned photo of author Vladimir Nabokov was his background.

She opened a web browser and navigated to the campus mail server. Another login page appeared. She entered her username and password. A hollow sensation overtook her gut as the page loaded. What had Aubrey sent?

An unread message from [email protected] topped a column of undeleted e-mails. The subject line read, “Your New Roommate.” Nia double-clicked.

A video was pasted into the message. Nia could tell from the JPEG frozen behind the play button that it featured a Wallace student. Long, brown hair cascaded over the shoulder of a navy blazer. The image reminded Nia of someone, but she didn’t know whom. The play arrow lay over the girl’s face.

Aubrey had captioned the video with a poem:

Nia didn’t understand. Aubrey had killed the girl and then tried to send her ex-lover to “hell” by framing him for
the murder. But hadn’t that ex-lover been Theo? Why was the poem about Peter?

“Aubrey is a liar.” Nia said the words aloud, wanting to hear them stick in the air. “A crazy liar.”

She braced herself and clicked on the video.

Lauren smiled at the screen, a resurrected ghost. Her head tilted to her slight shoulder. Pale lips pressed together. She looked sweet. Shy. Fifteen. She sat on a brown leather couch. The video was cropped too closely for Nia to see any more of the background. Something seemed familiar.

“Are you recording?” Lauren sounded young. Nervous.

“Yeah. I wish you could see yourself. You look so pretty.”

A man’s voice. Peter’s voice.

Nia pushed away the thought. No. No. No. It couldn’t be. Theo, maybe? He’d made a sex tape before.

“Show me what’s underneath that blazer.”

The teen glanced away from the camera. She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t.”

“Come on. You’re already here.”

Lauren’s arms drew into her body, covering her chest. She twisted the blazer’s top button.

“Don’t be a tease. That’s not nice.” The man scolded. The voice just sounded like Peter. “Let me see. It’s just me.”

Nia’s stomach churned as she watched Lauren undo the top buttons. She saw a flash of skin between the lapels where a shirt should have been. She didn’t need to see the blazer open to know that the girl wasn’t wearing anything beneath.

Heavy breathing overwhelmed the speaker. The image jostled as the filmmaker placed the camera on the coffee table. Nia saw a flash of wood. Books. A thick hand dipped
in front of the image, trying to prop what must have been a cell phone against something upright.

The camera focused again on Lauren. “Could we, I don’t know, maybe just talk? Like before?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The man’s lower body came into view as he rounded the coffee table to join the girl on the couch. He was tall. All Nia could see were khaki pants and the bottom edge of a blue button-down.

“I know what I’m doing.”

The man sat and reached into the teen’s blazer. Nia couldn’t deny it anymore. It was Peter.

She recoiled from the screen. Her hands flew to her face, blocking her view of whatever else the video contained. She’d been wrong about everything.

Aubrey was the “girl” in the poem, the one that Peter hadn’t kept. She hadn’t killed Lauren because of Theo. She’d killed Lauren because of Peter. And Aubrey hadn’t hated Nia because she was worried her teacher would put the pieces together. Nia had stolen Aubrey’s boyfriend.

Fury shook her extremities. Nia hit the forward button on the message. She typed Dean Stirk’s e-mail address and hit send.

“What are you doing?”

She spun to her right. Peter stood in the doorway, a plastic bag dangling from his fingers. She hadn’t heard the door open.

The gray light stealing inside from the window blurred his expression. Still, she could tell he wasn’t happy. How long had he watched her?

Part of her wanted to scream what she’d seen, but some instinct forced her to remain calm. Peter was capable of acts that she’d never imagined. She didn’t know what role he’d
played in Lauren’s death. She had no idea what he would do if he knew she’d seen that video.

She closed the message and stood, blocking his view of the screen. “I was trying to e-mail my mother, to let her know that I don’t have a phone in case she’s calling.”

Her voice sounded lifeless. She forced a smile. “Were you able to find anything for my neck?”

Peter pulled an ointment tube from the plastic bag. “Yeah, got it right here.” He threw it.

She flinched as the object hurtled toward her face. Her hand reflexively batted it away before it could hit her between the eyes.

Peter strode toward her. “So you figured out my password. I leave and you’re going through my computer.”

“You gave me your phone code. I . . . I just checked my e-mail.”

He shoved her out of the way of the screen. She fell to the side. Her hand caught the edge of the desk, saving her from hitting the ground.

He leaned over the laptop and clicked. His head snapped up. Fury burned in his eyes.

Nia ran to the exit.

“What are you doing?” Peter caught her hair in his fist. He pulled her back toward him and wrapped an arm around her chest. She screamed, an enraged, blood-curdling sound.

Peter shoved his free hand over her mouth. “Let me explain.”

She brought her teeth down on the soft skin between his thumb and forefinger. He yelped and raised his hand beside his ear, prepared to strike her.

His bicep wrapped around her neck. She felt his forearm beside her head. The plastic bag crumpled beneath her ear.

“Just listen. I didn’t hurt Lauren. Aubrey found that video and flipped out.”

She struggled in his arms. He embraced her like a python. Every movement tightened his grip.

“Calm down.” His voice lowered. “Aubrey killed Lauren. Not me. She got jealous. We’d had a thing for a bit, but Aubrey wanted me to leave my wife. When I refused, she showed up at my house . . .”

Nia scratched at his arm. “Let go of me.”

“Not until I know you understand. My ex-wife. She just didn’t understand.”

Her body went cold. The way Peter sneered made her doubt that his wife had died in a carjacking.

“I . . . I understand.” The pressure on her throat made her gasp the words.

“I knew you would.”

Nia’s heels scraped the floor as Peter dragged her backward. He released her neck and shoved her onto the bed.

Coughing shook her body. She forced herself into a sitting position. She needed to run.

Before she could leap from the mattress, he fell on top of her. He held her arms down and straddled her pelvis, pinning her with his two-hundred-pound body.

“Lauren, she was just . . . You would have liked her. A sad, sweet girl who was so brokenhearted when Theo broke up with her.” He shook his head, as though disappointed. “Fucking Aubrey. She just couldn’t handle that, even with my wife out of the picture, I couldn’t be
with
her.”

Nia again tried to rise. Peter put the full weight of his arms onto her wrists. She felt the plastic bag against her forearm.

She couldn’t break free. There had to be another way.

“Please, Peter.” She softened her tone, trying to sound the way she would have just a few hours earlier, trying to remind him that he loved her. “You’re hurting me.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” The anger on his face flickered. “I thought you were the answer to my problem: twenty-two years old with a pretty face and a teenager’s tiny, sexy body. The first time I saw you, I thought you were a student. Then we met and I realized, I could love you, legally.”

His face contorted. Blood vessels pulsated in his forehead.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you won’t.”

He lifted a hand off of her wrist. She swatted at him, but one hand was not enough to fight Peter. He was nearly double her weight and nine inches taller.

The plastic bag spread across her face. She choked as he shoved it into her mouth. She thrashed on the bed. She couldn’t breathe. He was going to kill her.

She stopped moving and focused all her strength into her legs. She pressed her heels against the edge of the bed for leverage and then pushed off, bringing both knees up into her body. The bony joints slammed between his thighs.

His hand flew from her face to his privates. He rolled off of her, balling himself up in pain.

She spit out the plastic as she ran. Her throat burned. She couldn’t swallow. She could barely breathe. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to move through the pain.

She pulled open the door. Peter nearly caught her hair again as she escaped into the hallway. Strands ripped from her scalp as she made for the exit. Footsteps pounded behind her.

“Help!” The sound barely emerged from her swollen throat. Again, she croaked the word.

Campus police officers burst through the double doors. They hurried toward her. Dean Stirk ran behind them.

Nia threw herself onto a security guard. “Please. Help me.”

Peter ran in the opposite direction. The campus police pursued. One spoke into a handheld speaker. “This is Wallace Academy security. Need backup at the boys’ quad. Block all exits.”

Sirens sounded in the distance. Only the real police had sirens.

“Nia. How—”

Stirk couldn’t finish her question. The door behind her flung open. A mix of security guards and real police officers flooded the hallway.

“Aubrey sent me the video.” Sobs stifled the words. “Peter slept with students.”

Shouts echoed in the hallway. A series of thuds reverberated off the walls, like someone had stumbled down the stairs. An officer shouted, “Raise your hands!”

“Okay,” Peter yelled. “They’re up. They’re up.”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have . . .”

Tears streamed down Nia’s cheeks. She couldn’t pinpoint the emotion that drove them: fear, relief, sadness, disappointment. A mix of all of them, maybe.

“Are you okay?” Dean Stirk’s face hovered above the guard’s shoulder. Nia stood back from the officer. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She needed to get control of herself and assess the damage.

“Did he hurt you?” The guard stepped back to make a determination.

Her wrists burned with finger impressions. Her throat felt raw. Her knee pulsed from slamming against Peter’s body. But nothing was permanently damaged. Bruises would fade. Her body would recover.

Still, Nia knew there were other ways to leave scars. She only had to think of what Peter had done to Aubrey.