Under the Rose (27 page)

“Lydia,” I prompted. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He, um, did something. Something R-rated.”

Oh. I guess there was also a number six. “Was it an R-rated thing done with
love
?”

“Amy, I said it freaked him out. I don’t think he was trying to return the sentiment.”

Neither did I. And if I knew anything about Josh’s romantic history, which I did, I’d guess he was out trolling for some chick to turn into his escape clause. Dammit.

“You know, Lydia, I have heard some rumors….”

“What?”

“That Josh has a bit of problem…remaining faithful.”

She laughed. “Oh, that. There are rumors about that?”

I shrugged. “Well, you know, I did some digging, just to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt.”

“You did, huh?” She hugged me. “That’s sweet, but we’ve already talked about it. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

Wow. I’d been beating myself up all this time over nothing. Josh had told her himself. Maybe I hadn’t given this guy the credit he deserved. Telling the other Diggers didn’t mean
he
was barred from telling the woman he was dating.

Or maybe he told her because he was afraid I would.

“Nobody’s perfect,” Lydia continued. “Not me, not you, not Josh. If we had perfect track records, we wouldn’t be single and available for new relationships, would we?”

“Well, yeah, but considering recent events…do you trust him?”

“Yes. I guess I trust him. I trust him until he gives me a reason not to. That’s how love works, right?”

Maybe that was our club’s problem, as Ben had hinted at last night. We weren’t hanging out because we loved one another, and letting the trust grow from that. We were hanging out because we’d promised to, and were expecting it to turn into love. None of the Diggers had been acting very trusting of late. It was because, ever since the rumors of the traitor surfaced, no one had trusted anyone else.

Actually, it had started even earlier, when the Diggirls had first received those rhyming e-mails, telling us to beware of danger right under our noses.

Like Ben said, too much drama and intrigue. Why couldn’t we spend our time in Rose & Grave actually engaging in the things the society had been created for? Camaraderie and the exchanging of ideas. No wonder I felt ten times more comfortable chilling with Lydia in our suite than I did at meetings. Our Salvation Army–furnished common room may lack the cachet of star-studded dome ceilings or wood-paneled Grand Libraries, but it was utterly devoid of intrigue. Okay,
mostly
devoid. We still held the secrets of our respective societies pretty close to the chest.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” I asked my roommate. “I’m overdue on a paper I have to turn in first thing tomorrow morning, so I’ll probably be up late. I vote Chinese food.”

“I’m working, too. That sounds great.” She grabbed the phone. “Shall I order?”

“Please. I’m going to run to the bathroom. Get me my usual.” I ducked out of the suite door and up the landing steps to the entryway restroom. And it was there, in the stall, with my pants around my ankles, that I heard the scream.

Lydia’s scream.

I finished up my business in record time and bolted out of the stall, pulling my clothes together as I went. I heard the entryway door slam open, but by the time I reached the landing, there was nothing but darkness outside. I flew down the steps and back into my suite, where I found Lydia standing by my bedroom door, the phone clutched in her hand. The irate voice of the Chinese-food delivery man could be heard, faintly, from the receiver.

“Crazy girl!” he shouted, and slammed the phone down.

“Lydia, what happened?”

“Oh, Amy, there was someone in your room!” She leaned against the bookshelf, as if for support. “I opened the door to grab a menu from your bulletin board, and this guy—he leapt out at me!”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. He just ran out. Didn’t touch me or anything.”

“Thank goodness. Did you see what he looked like?”

She shook her head and pressed her hand against her chest. “No. Tall. Dark clothes. White. Older…than us, I mean. I couldn’t see if he took anything, either. Amy, your computer. Your stereo.”

But I wasn’t exactly worried about my subwoofers—at least, not with Poe’s warning still forefront in my mind.
They may be searching your room next.
I slowly stepped toward my bedroom. Was there anyone else inside? Probably not, but I still felt violated. Ironic, huh?

“How long do you think he’d been in there?” Lydia said. “I was sitting in the suite for about ten minutes before you came home. I hate to think he was in there the whole time.”

Plenty enough time for him to ascertain that I had none of the mysterious information I could have supposedly swiped from Jenny. I peeked in the door. My computer was still there. Probably with keystroke recording software installed, and maybe a bug or two. Tell me my society isn’t into spying!

“Should I call the police?”

“Yes. Wait. No. Call Josh.”

She looked at me curiously. “Josh?”

This would be tricky. “Look, you’re obviously distraught. Don’t you want him nearby? Give him a call. Or I will.” I grabbed the phone out of her hands and dialed Josh’s room. “Hey, Josh?” I said when he answered. “It’s Amy.”

“Committed any felonies today?”

“Too busy dealing with people breaking into our suite.”

“What!”

“Look, can you come over? Lydia just found a man in my room. He’s gone now, but we’re pretty shaken up.”

“Yes. I’ll be right there. Tell her I’ll be right there. Are you both okay?”

“We’re fine.” He may not have provided the right response to Lydia’s proclamation, but he had it down pat now. “Do you think we should call the police about this man who was
suddenly
in my room tonight?” I asked, hoping he got my drift. “I don’t know
what
he was looking for.”

Josh considered this. “Wait until I get there. I’m leaving right now.”

I pressed the
Off
button and looked at Lydia. “Gosh, I don’t know, hon. I think he cares very much.”

But Lydia showed no reaction. Instead, she asked, “How do you know Josh’s number?”

Uh-oh.
“I think I looked it up one time when you were over there. I can’t believe I remembered it.”

She stared at me, a curious expression playing across her face. “I can’t believe you did, either.”

I forced a laugh. “Come on, Lydia. I’m not seeing your boyfriend behind your back.”

Thankfully, Josh arrived a few moments later (he must have sprinted all the way from his college) and enfolded Lydia in a huge embrace. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” came the muffled reply. “He didn’t do anything. Just ran past me.”

Josh looked over Lydia’s shoulder at me. “Did you see him?”

I shook my head. “I was in the bathroom. I heard Lydia scream.”

Lydia disentangled herself from Josh’s arms. “I think we need to call the police.”

Josh took off his coat and threw it over the back of the couch, then strode into my bedroom. “This place looks okay, I mean, not
trashed
or anything.” He shot a glance at me over his shoulder. “Do you have any idea what this person may have been looking for?”

“I wish I did,” I said, and joined him in my room.

“Guys, the police?” said Lydia.

“Things have…progressed somewhat since I spoke to you last night,” I whispered. I needed to get Josh alone and share what Poe and I had discovered about Jenny’s room. “The room is much
cleaner
than it was
yesterday.
” I wagged my eyebrows at him.

“I really think we ought to call…” Lydia tried again, then clearly gave up.

Josh moved until he was behind my bedroom door. “There’s no sign of forced entry. Do you lock your door?” He mouthed at me,
You went back there?

I checked the common room, but Lydia had moved out of sight range. “Yes, but since this is so vital to you, I want you to know it was
legal
this time. I was with her dean.”

“Her dean?”

“Yeah, her parents called and were concerned.”

“Because you called them?”

“Because James Orcutt and I called them, yes.”

“Who?”

Poe,
I mouthed.

Poe thinks there’s a problem?

Yes. We’re not all as skeptical as you.
At this rate, we’d have to take out additional student loans to cover our society name fines. Although, I suppose the jury was still out on whether it counted if we didn’t speak them aloud.

“I knew it!” shouted Lydia. Josh and I jumped, and then, stricken, spilled back into the common room.

Lydia was standing by the sofa, Josh’s navy peacoat balled up in her hands. “You
liar
!” She lobbed it at his head and he caught it. His Rose & Grave pin shimmered from the left-hand pocket.

“Whoa, whoa, what lie? Sweetie—”

“You know exactly what lie. I can’t believe you two, all this time, acting like you’d just met. I can’t believe I never noticed. I can’t believe—”

“What?” I said. “That Josh is a better secret keeper than I was? You really find that a tough one to swallow?”

She turned to me. “How much have the two of you been laughing behind my back about this?”

Josh and I exchanged glances. “Believe it or not,” I said, “not at all. We’ve been too busy being at each other’s throats.”

“Why?”

“Because,” said Josh, “we both love you and don’t want to see you hurt.”

My mouth fell open. Lydia, to her credit, kept her composure. “You…love me?”

Josh looked at her and sighed. “Yes. I do.”

Around this time, I decided to go back to the bathroom and, oh, I don’t know, wash my hands, brush my hair, maybe pluck my eyebrows. Stuff.

When I got back, Josh and Lydia were snuggled up on the couch. “All better?” I asked.

Lydia smiled, gave Josh a quick peck on the cheek, and hightailed it into her bedroom.

“Well, that’s one less secret I’ve got,” Josh muttered.

I shrugged. “She’s known about me since last year. World still hasn’t ended.”

“Indeed. So, fill me in on what’s going on.”

I told Josh what Poe and I discovered today (careful to always call Poe “James”) and what we suspected was going on.

“And you have no idea what the person in your room may have been searching for?” he asked.

“No. If Jenny was sharing her information with anyone, it wasn’t me. She was angry at me, remember? Do you know what they could be after?”

Josh shook his head. “Until a few minutes ago, I still wouldn’t have believed Jenny was involved. But after hearing all of this, how can I doubt it anymore? I feel like a moron.”

He looked at Lydia’s closed bedroom door. “I don’t want to call the police yet, but I don’t want you two staying here tonight. I’ve talked Lydia into coming back with me.”

“That must have taken some real effort.”

“I take it you have someplace to stay?” He raised his eyebrows. “Still keeping it in the family?”

“I’ll be fine.” I changed the subject. “Don’t you think it’s about time to go to the authorities? Two break-ins in two days?”

“One break-in, one alleged, and we’d have to come out with the society involvement to show there’s any connection at all. I’m not ready to go there.”

This was the same spiel Poe had given. “So when
will
you think they’ve gone too far, Josh? When it turns out the patriarchs have hurt Jenny?”

Josh frowned. “I don’t know. I’m still hoping this is all some mix-up. I’m going to try to get ahold of our truant tonight. I’ll call Po—what’s-his-name—and let him know I want to help. Lydia says you’ve got a paper due anyway, and I feel like an asshole for not helping earlier. Tell you what: If Jenny doesn’t contact us by tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the police. Deal?”

One more night. And if Josh was willing to meet me halfway and take on some of the responsibility, then maybe I ought to let him. “Deal.” I stuck out my hand, as if to shake on it.

“Amy,” Josh said, and he took my hand. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted your instincts.”

“You should have.”

“Want me to call George and tell him to expect you?”

I thought about that for a moment. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got a better idea.”

Twenty minutes later, I met Poe outside the entrance to the Law Library with my copy of
The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker
in one hand and my laptop case in the other. Change for the soda machine jingled in my coat pocket as Poe guided us past the metaphorical velvet rope with a wave of his Law ID and a proprietary hand on the small of my back.

This time, his touch didn’t make me ill.

“This never should have happened,” he said, almost as if to himself. “Are you sure Jenny didn’t pass anything on to you? Anything at all?”

Jenny was barely speaking to me. I was hardly her ally. But I’d come up with another hypothesis while gathering my papers. “Do you think there’s a chance the guy in my room could be behind the website? That if Jenny has been, uh,
incapacitated,
he’s trying to get his info from somewhere else?” If so, Josh’s or George’s rooms would be no safer than mine.