After thirteen years, the end was coming.
He walked into the empty house. Listened to the silence. It was the only place in his world where he was alone.
She used to walk these halls. But her footsteps were long a part of the silence.
He sat down and stared through the towering windows at the trees beyond.
“Sir?”
He turned toward the voice behind him.
“Oh. I didn’t even realize you’d come in.”
“Everything is done for the day. The laundry is in the bedroom. Dinner is in the oven. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. Thank you. Go on home. I’m sure they’re waiting for you,” he said.
“If you need anything…”
“I will call. Thank you.”
“Goodnight.”
That was the only voice he ever heard within these walls now. There used to be more. The house had been lively and full. But when her family left, the silence came. He welcomed it.
It gave him the chance to think. To enjoy.
He looked forward to the snowfall. Hopefully, it would come soon. Snow kept secrets. Soon he’d have another to whisper. Then he could watch the world come alive and the mask come off.
Chapter Forty-Six
Thirteen years ago …
“What was his name?” Eleanor asked.
“Corey,” Timothy said. “I didn’t get a last name.”
“How has everyone heard about this and knows the people who talked about it, but no one actually knows this guy’s name?”
She was comparing notes, listening to the way the story was told and determining which carried more weight. Which she was going to believe. She knew what she wanted to hear.
“They know the rumors,” Timothy corrected. “She was only at the school for a short time. Not even the whole first semester. She went during the summer to get a tour of the campus and find out more about the school. Then she came back for freshman orientation. At least, that was what her family thought. The rumors go that she was seen back in the Larsonville area at least three times in between the tour and orientation, and a few different people said they saw her just kind of lurking around the buildings where Corey was taking summer classes.”
There was no mention of the incident in high school. No mention of the teaching assistant who looked so much like someone who had hurt her but somehow earned her obsession.
“Did she meet him during the campus tour?”
“Briefly. Not on a personal level. He was a tour guide and showed some of the academic buildings. Then she arrived to start the school year and almost immediately was telling people she was in a relationship.”
“With Corey?” Eleanor asked.
“She never said his name specifically. That was something she was apparently careful about. She just made innuendo and suggestions. Showed off pictures.”
“How did she get the pictures if this guy doesn’t know her?”
“She’s in school studying computers and graphic design,” Timothy said. “She can fake whatever she wants. All she has to do is find pictures of each of them and she can make one that looks like them together.”
“What else can she fake?” Eleanor asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Documents? Emails? Phone records?”
“It depends on her specific skills, but I wouldn’t put it past her. People all over campus were talking about the two of them being together; it even got to the head of his department. His job was put on the line because he was having an inappropriate relationship with a student. But he insisted he didn’t know her. That he had nothing to do with her. He was even able to show the original pictures and prove he was in other places when she said they were together,” Timothy said.
Eleanor drew in a breath and nodded.
“So, you really aren’t carrying on with her?”
“Of course not. Why would I when I have you?”
Eleanor gathered him in a hug, but the hardness of her heart hadn’t softened. If anything, it was worse. She believed him. She didn’t want to. She wanted to be right. For him to be lying to her. If he was lying to her, her heart didn’t have to be broken. She didn’t have to be betrayed.
The same story told twice. But she knew one was lying. And it answered all her questions.
Now
Eleanor recognized the face of the woman walking toward her. It wasn’t the kind of recognition that came from knowing a person. She couldn’t imagine why she was seeing that face again. It wasn’t one she ever wanted to see again. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
“Professor Murillo?” the woman asked as she approached.
“Yes,” she said, taking off the glasses she had only just started needing in the last few years. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Emma Griffin,” she said, and Eleanor gave a nod.
“Yes. I remember you. I didn’t realize you had returned to campus,” she said. “Are you doing a guest seminar?”
“No,” Emma said. “I’m actually here to talk about Julia.”
Eleanor hoped her shoulders didn’t visibly stiffen.
“Julia?” she asked.
“Julia Meyer. She was a student here thirteen years ago. She…”
“Yes,” Eleanor said again, this time stopping her words in mid-stream. “I remember her, too. Such a shame what happened to her. Have the police finally decided to look into her death?”
Emma looked stung. Her mouth opened, then closed again. “Her death? You think she was killed?”
“It has been thirteen years, and as far as I know there hasn’t been a single word from her or sign that she went off and started her own life. With the other incidents that happened in the area and nearby within just a few years of each other, I didn’t think it was too much of a leap to think that. I apologize. I know the two of you were friends.”
“Yes. We were. And you are the only person who has considered something might have happened to her,” Emma said.
“I am?” Eleanor said.
“Yes. You must remember when it happened, and I was trying to convince the police to understand
