“I’m fine,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact.
“No, you’re not, Dell.” He let go. I crossed my arms over my body. I was afraid to walk away. I didn’t want to challenge him.
“I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” I said, staring at the hallway carpet. “It’s been a stressful year.”
“Guys giving you trouble?” he asked. At this, I looked up. He smirked, in a frightening way.
“Yeah,” I said, hoping this would be enough for him to stop pestering me. He needed a reason why I’d been acting off. I couldn’t tell him I’d found out he was a serial killer. “Something like that.”
Brian seemed satisfied with that answer. He leaned against the wall and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “High school guys are jerks,” he said. “I should know. I used to be one. Once you get to college, you’ll feel like you got it all figured out.”
Is that how Brian felt? Like he had life all figured out. He could never be his true self here, he said. He always played a role. Was hurting these women the release he’d needed?
“You’re right,” I said, trying to appear unbothered.
“I knew you weren’t really sick.”
I cleared my throat. “I have been sick.”
“I know you threw up,” he said. “But it’s not a virus. Something else is bothering you.” He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I thought I might faint, his grip felt so foreign and wrong. “You can’t let other people get you down like this. Especially some guy who doesn’t deserve you.”
“Right.” I shoved his hand away and walked toward my room.
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“Thanks,” I said. He was behind me now, so at least he couldn’t see my face.
“Just tell me who the guy is,” he said. “Tell him if he keeps messing with my little sister, I’ll kill him.”
I stopped in the doorway and looked back. He no longer leaned against the wall. He stood in the hallway with a confident and easy stance.
I didn’t know what a comment like that meant coming from Brian. Everything he said had a purpose, and I now knew the seriousness of such a remark. My mind immediately went to Danny. Did he know we’d been talking, and this was his subtle way of telling me? I studied his face. I forced myself to smile. After all, most people would take his remark as a joke. It’s a brother taking care of his younger sister. It’s not a serial killer making a threat.
“I’m lucky to have you.” My voice shook. I went into my room, shut the door and locked it. Minutes later, I looked out my window and saw Brian climb into Mom’s car. She pulled out of the driveway, and they left.
I made a plan. I had to tell someone about Brian. Deep inside, I knew the truth. I’d always known. And our tense conversation in the hallway earlier had only hastened my urgency.
My biggest fear was that Brian would return to his room, pack up his belongings and take the IDs back with him to campus. My only concrete evidence would be gone. It was a test of fate—and patience—because if those IDs were still in the guitar case, I knew my next step.
Brian never said goodbye. I figured he’d deemed our earlier conversation in the hallway enough. I was afraid he’d return, and I’d be caught snooping. I decided I wouldn’t enter his room until he confirmed he was back on campus.
Mom leaned over a counter reading a cookbook.
“There you are,” she said when I entered the kitchen. “I’ve been worried about you. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I said. I took a seat at the breakfast bar.
“I’ve decided to make you some soup,” Mom said. “You need something easy on your stomach.”
“Sounds great,” I said. I didn’t want to eat or force a conversation, but I needed to know when Brian returned to SCU. Also, I wanted to enjoy this night with Mom. Enjoy wasn’t the word, but I wanted to try. If I was right about Brian, this would be the last night I’d see Mom carelessly flitting about the kitchen. Because in many ways, what I was about to reveal would be worse than a death.
As we finished eating, Mom’s phone buzzed. “Oh good,” Mom said, staring at the screen. “Brian made it back to campus.”
“Good,” I said, taking a sip of water.
As I was heading upstairs, the doorbell rang. I paused, not expecting a visitor so late. Mom opened the front door.
“Hello, Karen,” she said.
I came down the steps, hoping to get a better look at Amber’s mom.
“Sorry to bother you,” Karen said, her arms folded over her body. She looked over Mom’s shoulder to me. “Della, have you heard from Amber?”
“Not since Friday,” I said.
“I’m probably overreacting, but I’m worried,” she said. “When I went to her room this morning, she wasn’t there. I thought she just took off somewhere, but it’s been hours and she’s not responding to my texts.”
“Does she usually do this sort of thing?” Mom asked.
“She has more lately,” Karen said, turning again to me. “I thought maybe the two of you were becoming friends again. Maybe you might know where she is.”
“I’m sorry. No,” I said, feeling a wave of panic rise. “I’ll try giving her a call.”
“I’d appreciate that,” her mother said, looking back at Mom.
“They’re just kids,” Mom said in a conciliatory tone. “Here, let me walk you home.”
Mom grabbed her coat and hurried outside, leaving me alone on the steps. I pulled out my phone and dialed Amber’s number. It rang twice before going to voicemail, like she was out of service. My skin felt prickly. It was strange Amber would take off the same weekend Brian visited. Maybe she just wanted to leave the neighborhood until she knew he was gone, but everything was too coincidental. I
