“Yes,” she says. “I just love finding out all about different crimes and how they’re solved. I just can’t get enough of reading your cases. It’s just so amazing that you went to school here.”
“Yes, I did,” I say. “So did a good friend of mine. Julia Meyer.”
Her face darkens just slightly. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard of her.”
“You have?” I ask. “So, you know she disappeared.”
“I know she left campus very suddenly. She didn’t sit for a final exam or continue with her studies as she’d planned. I also know you caused a bit of turmoil over the whole situation,” she says.
There is a hint of laughter in her voice, and I smile.
“I might have ruffled a few feathers. The thing is, I know Julia didn’t just walk away. That wasn’t her. And I’m trying to prove it. But I need help. I spoke with her parents, and they mentioned that some of her belongings were left in her student apartment. They didn’t claim them when they came to campus after she was last seen. Do you have any idea what might have happened to them?”
“I don’t,” she says regretfully. I sag, disappointed. “But I might I know somebody who would.”
I perk up a bit. “If you could find out, I would really appreciate it.”
“Just give me one second.”
She gets out of her chair and hurries out of sight. I tell myself I’m not actually manipulating her. She’s helping me, which is exactly what she would want to do. When she comes back, she’s smiling.
“Did you find out something?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “I just spoke to the head of the housing department. I told her you’re here and looking for more information about Julia Meyer. It was a long time ago, so she wasn’t working here at the time. But, she says if anything of Julia’s was left behind, it would have been put in the storage room. We can’t guarantee it’s still there after all this time, but there’s a chance.”
“Storage room?”
“Yes. It’s in the basement of one of the administration buildings. It’s used to store personal belongings that are left in student housing or academic buildings. The only trouble is, they are personal belongings, which means Julia’s parents would have to request them,” she says.
“According to Julia’s parents, she left on her own accord. Those things still belong to her. And if she left them here and did not come back to claim them, they are abandoned property. Particularly after thirteen years, the University can do with her belongings as it pleases,” I say.
“Give me one second,” she says again, and leaves.
This time she’s gone longer, but when she comes back, she’s smiling.
Three hours later, I’m back at my house. Going through everything in the storage room was far more of an undertaking than I’d anticipated. Even calling it a storage room was generous. It was more of a locker piled with trash bags, labeled with little more than pieces of masking tape with names written across them.
After writing out my intentions and signing the declaration of who I was, when I went into the locker, and what I was taking, the University allowed me to find Julia’s bag and claim it. I took pictures the entire time I was going through the locker and more of the bag in my house.
I want to cover all my bases. If an issue does arise over my having the bag, I want to be able to chronicle every step of the way. Which would be why Sam is now staring at me through the computer screen, ready to act as a member of law enforcement witnessing my going through the bag.
“Babe, you know I don’t have jurisdiction there, right?” he asks. “Even if somebody did pitch a fit, I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m not asking you to. I just want you here as a witness. People have a hard time arguing against a sheriff. The stuff was abandoned thirteen years ago. Technically, it doesn’t belong to anybody anymore. But it was once Julia’s, and it might tell us something.”
“Okay,” he says. “Go ahead.”
Using a pair of scissors, I carefully cut beneath the piece of paper wrapped around the top of the bag. I push the plastic away enough so I can look inside and see what the bag holds. It’s not very full, and a quick glimpse inside reveals just a few articles of clothing, a paperback book, a spiral notebook that appears to be from one of her classes, and a day planner.
It’s the day planner that immediately catches my attention. I reach inside and pull it out.
“What’s that?” Sam asks.
“Her calendar,” I say. “It’s her schedule.”
Unzipping the black fabric case, I open up the day planner and feel my breath catch in my throat.
“Emma? What is it? Are you okay?”
“She used it as a journal,” I tell him. “There are notes in here.”
“Isn’t that what a day planner is?” Sam asks.
“Yes, but I mean there’s more than that. She wrote down what she was doing every day, but then there are little messages. Thoughts. It’s like a tiny version of a diary.”
“Does it say where she went?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “But I’m going to read it. Just because it doesn’t give me a road map doesn’t mean I can’t piece one together.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Thirteen years ago…
Emma could still remember the first conversation she’d had with Julia. She remembered meeting her and how their friendship progressed. It felt as if they were getting close, as if they were bonding. But now that she was forcing herself to sit and think about it, she realized how little she actually knew about her friend.
She knew what
