Stalking Death (21 page)

It was a fearfully empty night. As I walked to Shondra Jones's dorm, my footsteps were the only sounds. There were none of the quick steps, giggles and voices of a normal night. The paths weren't well lit, though I supposed it was bright enough on an ordinary night. This was a kind of darkness that swallowed up light. I'd given my map to Bushnell and, navigating from memory, discovered that the rambling charm which made the paths pleasant by day made them difficult in the dark. After two wrong turns, I finally found Cabot Hall.

Unlike the other day, when I'd walked in freely, tonight I was relieved to find the door locked. I rang the bell and waited. After a few minutes, a nervous-looking girl opened it and peered out at me.

"Thea Kozak, from Headmaster Chamber's office, to see Mrs. Leverett," I said, afraid that using Shondra's name might alarm her.

Very slowly, she backed up enough to admit me. "Sorry," she said, in a little, breathy voice. "We're all kind of spooked after what happened, you know."

"I don't blame you," I said. "What happened last night is pretty awful."

I stepped up to Mrs. Leverett's door and knocked. After a few minutes, when there was no response, I knocked again. "I don't think she's there," my guide said. "I think she went out."

"Who's in charge, then?" I asked, "Ms. Santoro?"

"I guess so."

I thanked her, hiked up the stairs to Santoro's door, and knocked. Knocked a second time. And a third. It had been a long, miserable day and I was out of patience. If she didn't answer soon, I'd kick the door in. I do try to be balanced and keep my temper but right now I was feeling a little frayed.

I was warming up my leg with a few practice swings when a small voice asked, "Are you looking for Ms. Santoro?"

"Yes." I turned. It was the pastel blonde girl again. Cassie something.

"She went out about an hour ago. I saw her leave."

A whole dorm full of young girls left alone the night after a campus murder? Blood doesn't really boil, but right now, mine felt distinctly intemperate. I pulled out my phone and the list I'd providentially brought with me, and called Cullin Margolin.

At least he answered. "Mr. Margolin? Thea Kozak, from EDGE Consulting, I'm over here at..."

"I'm sorry," he said. "We've been instructed to refer all phone calls to..."

"Mr. Margolin," I snapped, cutting him off. "It's Thea Kozak. I'm the one who gave you that instruction, remember? Now listen. I'm over in Cabot Hall, looking for Shondra Jones. I don't know what's going on, but Mrs. Leverett and Maria Santoro have both gone out, leaving these students all alone."

"Gone out?" He sighed and muttered a few expletives. "Everything seems to be going to hell at once."

"You did make it clear that they had to be here?"

"Of course," he said, defensively. "All the advisors are supposed to be available throughout the weekend. We've called in some extra faculty as back-up. I'll find one of them and send her over immediately."

"I'd suggest you also find Mrs. Leverett and Ms. Santoro, explain to them what the word "fired" means, and get their asses back here pronto."

"You know," he said, as though we had all the time in the world, "you're not being very understanding. Located where we are, we have a lot of trouble finding reliable staff."

"Not nearly as much trouble as you'll have finding another job if you lose half your students because their parents don't think they're safe here."

I'm so perceptive. I can hear expletives across hundreds of feet of thickly treed campus, even when the speaker turns away from the phone. It wasn't unfair to be picking on him. He was in charge of this piece of the action—or, as it appeared, inaction. He had to start doing a better job. But I also had to be careful about sounding strident. As Andre often reminds me, you can be as angry as you want, just don't show it.

I gave him my number and asked for a call back when he'd located Mrs. Leverett and Maria Santoro. Then I went to Shondra's door. I knocked once. Twice. No answer. No one was home to me on this campus. TV advertisers would have me believe it was my breath or my irritability. Maybe the social stigma of yellowed teeth. Something eminently treatable was causing my current social failure. But the voice over in my head was not about products, it was repeating what Al Sidaris had said. Alasdair's buddies were going to take revenge. Suddenly, it was very important to know whether Shondra was in her room, and if she wasn't, to find her.

"I think she's in there," a voice by my elbow said. The blonde girl again.

"You've seen her?"

"A couple hours ago. My room is right there." She pointed to the door across the hall. "I tried to tell her how sorry I was... about her brother and all... but she just did her Queen of Sheba thing and stalked by me like I was invisible. She's.... I don't know. It's like I keep trying to be her friend and she just won't let me. Seriously, I don't know why I bother when she's so awful about it, but I guess I think she'd be interesting to know... if only I could only, like, get through her defenses."

She stopped, coloring slightly. "Do I sound like a real sap?"

"How did she seem, when you saw her?"

"Oh, she had that same cool exterior, but she also looked awful, you know. Like you'd expect, I guess, under the circumstances." She stuck out a small, white hand, as though we hadn't met before. "Cassie MacLeod."

"Thea Kozak."

"She might be asleep," Cassie offered. "I know she didn't get any sleep last night. She couldn't have. She was out all night."

Curiouser and curiouser. When the Administration tries to find anyone who knows whether Shondra's room and things have been tampered with, they can't find a soul. Yet here's someone who seems to have kept awfully good track of Shondra's comings and goings.

"Is she a heavy sleeper?"

Cassie shrugged, faking indifference, but curiosity gleamed in her eyes. "I wouldn't know. I just thought, you know, that if she was really tired, she might sleep through someone knocking on her door, that's all. I mean, like, she's always tired, but that, you know, with what's happened, it would get boosted up to another level, wouldn't it?"

She started toward the stairs. "Well. Good luck. I hope she's okay."

I tried the door again. If Shondra was asleep and I disturbed her, she wouldn't thank me, but she wouldn't thank me no matter what I did. I called, surprised that with all the noise I was making, no one looked out to see what was going on. Uncurious? Plugged into headphones? Out for the evening? It
was
Saturday night. I couldn't shake the unease Sidaris's words had caused. I needed to know what was on the other side of that door.

My phone rang. Cullin Margolin. "Ms. Kozak. I don't know what's going on around here." He sounded apologetic and uncertain. "After we spoke, I called around. Found Ellen Leverett and Maria Santoro waiting outside Todd Chambers's office. They say they got a phone call from my office, calling an emergency meeting with the Headmaster. But I didn't call and Todd isn't here. I don't know what this means."

I thought I did. "Tell them to get back here as quickly as possible... if they aren't already on their way. Do they have master keys which will open all the rooms?"

"Do they have what? Uh... oh... yes, they do. But why? What's going on?"

"I want to get into Shondra's room. She isn't answering her door and the girl across the hall is almost certain she's in there. Under the circumstances, I want to be sure she's all right."

"I'm not sure we should... there are privacy issues, here, and you know how touchy Shondra is."

"I guess I'm not making myself clear, Mr. Margolin," I said. "I'm trying to avoid another disaster for St. Matthews. I'm not worried about hard feelings. I want that door opened so I can see whether Shondra is alive."

His little, swallowed, "oh," was barely audible. In a stronger voice, he said, "Maybe I ought to send security along, too... just in case."

"That would be an excellent idea."

I checked my watch, wondering how long it would be before reinforcements arrived. It took ten minutes, max, for someone who didn't get lost to reach this dorm. Ten minutes with uncertainty on the other side of the door felt like eternity. Ten unnecessary minutes. Why hadn't he sent the residents back the minute he found them? I paced and fretted and bit my lip, picturing all manner of mayhem inside that room.

Eventually, footsteps on the stairs signaled their arrival. Santoro was her usual sulky self. Ellen Leverett wore a pinched, pruny look that made me want to mess with her, if only I'd had the time. She fished out a key, banged once for form's sake, and unlocked the door.

I stepped past her and switched on the light, holding my breath as the door swung inward. It was dreadful, but not what I'd been expecting. Shondra Jones wasn't there. Disaster was. Every book, paper and piece of clothing in the room had been shredded. The dresser drawers had been pulled out and smashed, the desk and chair smashed. Her eviscerated mattress leaned against the wall, grayish white tufts of stuffing oozing from the slashes. Shondra's underwear hung from hooks on the wall that had held pictures and bras dangled from the ends of empty curtain rods and the legs of the overturned chair.

Their shocked cries gathered the crowd my knocking and calling had not. Soon we were surrounded by gaping students, and moments later, the crowd was swelled by the arrival of two campus security guards and Cullin Margolin.

"I can't believe she did this," Ellen Leverett said. "I knew she was angry and upset, but these were her own things. A genuine case of cutting off her nose to spite her face. What was she thinking? That we'd just go out and buy her some more? Honestly, that girl."

It was such a compassionate remark. Just as she'd missed everything else, she'd missed the symbolism of the carefully displayed underwear. I was sure Shondra hadn't. Even in death, Alasdair MacGregor could mess with her mind.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Dinner time, maybe? She came flying down the stairs and went past me without a word."

"She appeared to be very upset?"

"Of course. Upset and angry. But she was always angry, and naturally, after what her brother did, she was bound to be upset."

"You didn't try to speak with her? See if she wanted a counselor, anything like that?"

Maria Santoro gave her sharp laugh. "You're kidding, right? Offering Shondra help is like trying to pet a snapping turtle."

That was a hell of a line. I'd have to remember it.

"You've been in all day?"

"Of course."

"But you didn't hear anything?"

"I had my headphones on."

So much for making herself available. I looked around at the crowd of students. "All this destruction must have made a lot of noise. Did anyone hear anything?" Like sheep, they shook their heads.

Sweet Jesus, I thought, what is this place, anyway? The Stepford School? But there wasn't time to break their stories. I had to find Shondra. If Cassie was right, Shondra
had
seen this. If she'd been upset before, who knew what state she was in now?

"Do either of you have any idea where she might have gone?"

Santoro shrugged. Ellen Leverett considered. "Sometimes, when she's upset, she goes to the gym."

"The gym's open on a Saturday night?"

"Sure. Lot of the kids like to go there and work out."

I turned to Margolin and the security guys. "Let's check the gym." One of the security guys demurred. "I dunno," he said. "I think we ought to stay and make out a report. Hell of a lotta damage here."

"Yes, and it's not going anywhere. Right now, we've got a distraught student out there and it's important to find her as soon as possible." I looked at Margolin and raised my eyebrows. Was he going to take charge or would I have to?

He pulled himself up. "Let's go," he said. "You guys have a car. It's faster if we drive."

Chapter 16

We swooped through the night on wet, twisty roads, siren blaring and blue lights flashing. Psychedelic coils of blue light and sound swirled around us, distorted by the fog, until we rocked to a stop in front of the gym. We piled out of the car and ran up the steps into the building, into a welter of gym smells—sweat and cleaner and chlorine—and the sounds of gym activities. Balls pounded, sneakers squeaked, weights clanged and water splashed, voices called and grunted.