OLD FRIENDS
I stared out the front window of Billings the next morning, waiting for Ariana and Taylor to finish getting ready. Tiny droplets of rain dotted the glistening windowpane and the sky was overcast, a perfect backdrop for my heavy mood. I took a deep breath and released it slowly through my lips, marveling at how the campus beyond still managed to look beautiful to me even at this time of year, even in this state of mind. It was already mid-November, but the grass was still green and clipped and the evergreen shrubs perfectly shaped. Overnight, beads of water had frozen along the leafless limbs of the trees at the end of the walk, forming a canopy of diamonds. Back home there would be nothing but brown and gray. Dead grass, dead plants, piles of soaked and rotting leaves the public service had neglected to pickup. November was one of Croton's ugliest months of the year. Nothing was ever ugly at Easton. Even in the wake of murder.
There was a bustling on the stairs, and I turned to find Ariana and Taylor coming toward me, Ariana pulling on her pristine
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white calfskin gloves. "Ready?" she asked, looking positively bright-eyed.
"Ready."
The moment we walked outside I was nearly knocked over by a gust of wind and a smattering of drizzle. Ariana and Taylor stepped out of Billings behind me and instinctively huddled close.
"I need coffee," I mumbled, buttoning the top button on my new Lands' End wool coat, which my father had ordered and had shipped directly to me. It was much more practical and boxy than any of the designer coats the other Billings Girls had hanging in their closets, but at least it was warm.
"I need oatmeal," Taylor added.
She was looking a bit more like herself today. Her blond curls danced around her face, and she had gotten some color back in her skin. Although that might have just been the wind.
"So, you're going to eat today?" Ariana asked, tucking her arm through mine as we speed-walked across campus, our shoes clip- clopping on the wet stone path. "Both of you?"
"I'll give it a try," I said.
The truth was, my appetite had yet to return. The only reason I was in such a rush to get to the cafeteria was to see if there was any more news, if anyone had heard anything about this Rick character. If worse came to worst, I might even seek out Walt Whittaker for a tete-a-tete, as awkward as that would be. Whit's and my dating experiment had only imploded a little over a week ago, the very night Thomas was found, but Whit also had a blood connection to
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the powers that be at Easton. His grandmother was on the board of directors, which meant that I might just have to suck it up and talk to him.
We were about to turn up the short path to the cafeteria when I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. I paused and my pulse started to race, warming my skin. Detective Hauer. Out for his morning stroll, even in this weather. If there was one person who could tell me more than even Whit could, it was Hauer.
I stopped and waited for him to join us.
"Good morning, ladies," he said with a kind smile, though his brown eyes looked sad and tired. His black trench coat was stretched over his stocky frame, the belt barely tying at the waist. "Brisk one."
"Yes, Detective. It certainly is," Ariana said, her southern manners kicking in.
"How are you today, Reed?" he asked me.
I don't know why I grew warm at his singling me out. We had met on the quad before, just like this, except I had been alone at the time. Plus he had interviewed me with the chief just yesterday. We were practically old friends.
"Is it true, Detective?" I asked. I felt a rush of nauseating excitement and dread at being able to pose the question. Finally. "Did they really arrest that guy? Did he do it?"
He lifted his head slightly and studied me for a moment before answering. "We do have a suspect in custody, yes. But as to whether or not he had anything to do with your friend's death, we're not sure yet. He's still being questioned."
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"But if you brought him in, you must have had a good reason," Ariana said.
"There was compelling evidence, yes," the detective said.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"Just that he's a suspect, that's all," the detective told me gently. "I know how close you were with Thomas, Reed. I didn't have a chance to tell you yesterday, but I wanted you to know how sorry I am for your loss."
Ariana's grip on my arm tightened. Like that last moment in the blood pressure sleeve when you think the doctor might be taking the thing a pump or ten too far just to see if you'll pop. The twisting in the back of my throat returned. I tried to swallow but couldn't, and my eyes instantly watered.
"I promise I'll let you know as soon as we know anything for sure," he told me.