I stand back, eyeing the drawers, wondering how to get inside. They have to be locked for a reason. Nobody takes the time to lock their desk unless there’s something valuable inside. Something they don’t want anyone else to see—and suddenly, I think of Halloween again. The way I sat shivering on the floor, those handcuffs still cinched tight across my wrist. The way Lucy had walked into the living room and grabbed her keys, unlatched the cuffs, my skin red and raw from the pressure. I walk back into the living room, noticing them still hanging from their regular hook on the wall, and this, too, seems strange—Lucy left for work, why wouldn’t she bring her keys?—but at the same time, she walks to Penny Lanes. It’s only a few blocks away. We never lock our doors, either, a bad habit she once blamed on Nicole that I now know not to be true.
I glance out the window again before grabbing the keys and dead-bolting the door, just in case. Then I head back to her desk and flip through them, one by one, recognizing the house key we never use, her car key dangling from a leather keychain. The key to the handcuffs and finally, a smaller one that looks different, older.
I push it into the lock and it slides in easily before twisting it to the right and pulling the drawer open.
Inside, I find the usual clutter—pens, notebooks, Post-it Notes with grocery lists and random reminders scrawled in cursive—and continue to dig, fingers shaking, knowing there has to be something to find. Finally, my hands brush up against something glossy and smooth and I pull it out, flip it over, my breath catching in my throat when I register what I’m holding.
For a second, I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me again. If I’m still seeing Eliza everywhere like I have every other day for the last nineteen months: in the living room at Kappa Nu, head bent low as she eyed us from afar. Sitting next to Levi, hand on his thigh, that skinny string of blood dripping out of her mouth. In Lucy’s little tics and that diamond necklace that, now that I’ve actually seen it up close, doesn’t really look like Eliza’s at all. But it’s indisputable, no matter how many times I shake my head, try to blink it away: I’m staring at a picture of Eliza and me, a picture I haven’t seen in two years but that I’ve thought about so many times. The reason for that final fight, really. The mystery that came between us that we never actually solved.
The one that turned me against Levi, Eliza against me.
I’m staring at the picture that was stolen from her bedroom.
CHAPTER 56
AFTER
“It’s on!”
Sloane calls us to the living room and turns up the volume, Dean Hightower’s voice creeping into the silence of the house around us. Bouncing off the newly bare walls. We’ve been moving our things out slowly, methodically, hauling boxes to the new apartment between classes. The furniture that came with the house is staying, of course, and we haven’t decided what to do with Lucy’s room yet. Right now, it’s simply sitting untouched as if we’re all just waiting for her to step through the front door, throw herself down on the couch with a sigh. Hit us with some half-hearted apology for causing such a fuss before crossing her legs and tilting her head, demanding we fill her in on everything.
I make my way out of my bedroom, the sound of snapping cameras and murmuring journalists leaking from the TV, and smile at Nicole when I see her emerge on the landing.
“Can’t wait to hear this,” she says, plopping down next to Sloane. I take a seat next to them and pull my legs up, settling in, trying not to think too hard about how this is probably the last time we’ll all be nestled together on the couch like this.
“Good afternoon,” he says, fiddling with his tie. The dean of Rutledge is as stereotypical as they come: white hair, tortoiseshell glasses, bulbous nose, and a slow Southern drawl. Lucy’s been missing for three weeks now and while he’s held press conferences since Levi’s death, long-winded speeches devoid of any real detail, this is the first time he’s expected to say something about her.
“As I’m sure you all know, Rutledge College has been mourning the death of one of our own: freshman Levi Butler, who tragically passed away at a fraternity function on Saturday, January 12,” he says, refusing to peel his eyes from the paper in front of him. “The fraternity in question, formally known as Kappa Nu, has been suspended amid the official investigation and several members have been brought in for questioning.”
“Okay, get to it,” Sloane says, rolling her wrists. The dean is flanked by a few officers behind him, a show of solidarity, and I can’t help but stare at Detective Frank just off to the left, twirling his wedding ring on his finger.