“No.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a test scheduled tomorrow. We figured classes would be canceled, but none of us wanted to take a chance.”
“How many in your group?”
“Four.”
“All girls?”
She found it an odd question. “No. Two girls, two guys.”
“Their names?”
“I don’t understand, why would you need their names?”
He didn’t seem at all offended by her question. “A couple reasons. The first, to corroborate your story. And second, they were out around the time of the murder. I want to talk to everyone who might have seen or heard something.”
She swallowed hard. “Oh, okay.” She rattled off her study partners’ names. “And me, of course.”
When he finished writing them down, he looked back up at her. “They didn’t walk out with you?”
“We walked out together, but they all live in Parker Hall. I’m in Manchester.”
“By the way, what subject were you studying?”
“Biology.”
He nodded slightly. “You said you saw Madison tonight?”
“I did. She smiled at me.”
“You didn’t speak?”
She shook her head. “She wasn’t at the circulation desk when I left.”
He looked at her oddly, then made a note in his notebook. He’d told her not to be bothered by his note taking, but it made her feel weird. Like she was guilty of something.
“You left the library. What time was that?”
“Midnight. That’s what time group ends.”
“You didn’t stop to talk to anyone?”
“I was anxious to get back to the dorm, because of the weather. Besides, there was nobody around. The way I go, there rarely is. It’s a shortcut.”
“You always go the same way?”
“The same way. Every Wednesday night.”
Again, the odd look. “That cut-through is pretty isolated. You don’t worry about that, especially at night?”
“Sometimes. But I force myself.”
“You force yourself,” he repeated. “Why’s that?”
Sienna looked down at her clenched hands, then lifted her gaze back to his. “Because of my mom. Because she’s always afraid.”
She saw that he understood. Of course he did. Anyone who’d lived in Tranquility Bluffs any time at all would.
Poor, paranoid Vivienne Scott.
And such a shame her daughter’s just like her.
“So, same as always, you take the path between the Humanities and Social Sciences buildings. Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Hear any voices?”
“No voices.”
“Something else?”
Sienna thought a moment, trying to pull out any detail she might have passed over at the time. After a moment, she shook her head. “The wind. I just wanted to get back to the dorm.”
“How did you find the body?”
The body. That sounded so dispassionate. Like a thing, not the living, breathing person who had smiled at her only hours before.
Not breathing. Not anymore.
“I just … came upon … her.” The icy shell around her crackled. She felt it giving way. “It was hard to see … because of the snow. And because I had my head down—”
Her voice changed. Seemed to vibrate. Like a finger on a too-tight wire. “My hood … I could only see the path right in front of my feet.”
Her throat closed. She struggled to clear it. “I’m not sure what happened next. I don’t know if I slipped or tripped. I went down. On my knees. And—”
She stopped.
“And what?” he prodded, tone gentle.
“My white gloves … they were red. And I realized … I knew—”
She started to cry, softly at first, turning to racking sobs.
Her father burst into the room. She saw her usually immaculately groomed brother was with him, tonight looking completely disheveled. In another situation, she would have teased him about the way his hair stuck out in every direction.
“That’s enough!” Her father barked, both of them striding to her side. As they neared, she caught a whiff of alcohol. “You’re done.”
Chief Thompson didn’t move. He held her gaze. “If you think of anything, recall anything, no matter how insignificant or outlandish you might think it is, bring it to me. Promise me you will.”
She nodded and he handed her his card. “My number’s on this. If you think of anything at all, call me. Any time. Day or night.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Present day
1:15 P.M.
Sienna didn’t have to ask her brother what investigation had been reopened. Her knees went weak, and she returned to the couch and sat down hard.
“It was in the news,” Brad said. “Front page. Sorry, Half-pint. Your timing sucks.”
Forget a conviction, the police had never even made an arrest. She looked up at him. “Why now?”
“I don’t know. New evidence, I imagine.”
The information had taken her by surprise, and she struggled to right herself. “They haven’t talked to you?”
“No. But why would they?”
“Looking for me, I guess.”
“So they haven’t contacted you?”
“Not yet. I suspect they will.” She expelled a pent-up breath. “Does Mom know?”
“She does.”
“How’d she react?”
“Not good. Had an episode. A bad one, totally upended her.”
“Crap. And now? How is she—”
“Not great.”
“I hate hearing that.”
“I should have let you know. It may have influenced your decision to come home.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have. This is where I need to be. And you know what? It’s okay. In fact, I’m glad. I’d like nothing more than for them to find who killed Madison. For her family. And for me, too. It’s still hanging out there, like a dark cloud, always threatening rain.”
For a long moment he was silent, as if digesting her words. He crossed back to the couch and sat across from her. “Do you still think that maybe…”
He let the question trail off; she asked it for him. “That maybe the wrong girl was killed? That maybe the killer was waiting for me?”
He pursed his lips. “Do you?”
“No. I was young and excitable. Not delusional.”
She heard the defensive edge in her voice and wished she didn’t.
“I’m not judging.”
“Maybe not now.”
“Not then either.”
“Then you were the only one.”
He reached across and caught her hands. “This is what I was talking about. You being home, I’m just afraid—”
“I’m not, Brad. I’m done with being afraid.”
He ignored her bravado. “And you haven’t even seen your mother yet.”
“Well then”—Sienna stood—“there’s no time like the present.”