Untouchable (Private 3)

"More than a word, actually," the chief amended, sounding stern. "We have quite a bit to talk about."

Josh lost all color in his face. I stared at him, waiting for him to glance back, to show me that he was as confused as I was. He didn't. His eyes were locked on the chief.

"Why? Did something happen?" Josh asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mr. Hollis. Nothing to be alarmed about," Detective Hauer said. "It's just now that your lead fell through we have a few more questions for you. We want to make sure we didn't miss anything."

"Normal procedure. You understand," the chief stated coolly. "You were the last person to see Thomas Pearson alive, so we're hoping there might be some details you've omitted--"

"I didn't omit anything," Josh said quickly.

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All three men stared at him as if he'd just flipped them off. My stomach felt oddly hollow.

"Or perhaps some details you may have forgotten," Detective Hauer said.

"Oh. Sure. Right," Josh finally glanced over his shoulder at me, then wiped his palm on his sweats. "I guess I'll. . . see you later."

"I thought we already discussed that," the dean corrected.

"I'll see you soon," I told Josh firmly, hoping to convey some kind of solidarity and support in those four meaningless words. Josh was clearly freaked, and I hated that he had to go off with those men alone. It was so unfair that the focus was on him just because he'd been unlucky enough to share a room with Thomas. I wished there was something I could do to help him, protect him. Anything.

"Yeah. Soon," Josh said with a small smile, and I knew he got my message.

He kicked the soccer ball back to me as he walked off. The two policemen flanked him, and even though he was quite tall, he looked like a child between them, his head hanging. I glanced at Dean Marcus.

"I'll escort you back to Billings, Miss Brennan," he said sourly.

There had been a point in my career at Billings, however brief, when the dean had no idea w

ho I was. What I wouldn't give to reclaim that anonymity.

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* * *

Mrs. Lattimer confined me to my room for the rest of the day. She came to get me at lunchtime and walked me over to the cafeteria. Josh was not there. She then walked me back. This was, of course, not necessary--I wasn't about to make a break for Hell Hall and bust in on Josh and the cops--but I kept my mouth shut. Lattimer smiled more during those walks than I had ever seen her smile before. Putting those hawklike qualities to good use made her happy, I suppose.

Alone in my room, I couldn't sit still. I couldn't stop thinking about Josh. Worrying about him. Wondering what they were asking him. What more could he possibly have to tell them? They had already interviewed him several times. It wasn't Josh's fault they couldn't do their jobs and figure out what had happened to Thomas. It was amazing how I had come to this school to study and better myself and ensure that I would never have to go back to Croton, Pennsylvania, after high school again, and instead I was spending the bulk of my time worrying about guys. Where had I gone wrong?

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Just to compound my feelings of loneliness and confusion, Taylor still had not e-mailed me back. The more I checked my e-mail, the more disheartened I became. It looked like I was going to have to wait until she returned on Sunday night to talk to her, but I still wasn't quite ready to give up. I wrote another quick plea and sent it into the ether. Maybe she would message me to quit stalking her. At least it would be something.

Between the Josh situation and the Taylor disappearance, I was driving myself crazy with questions that couldn't possibly be answered, so I decided to force myself to study. Once I cracked open my books and got started. I was absorbed again. I had a lot to catch up on, and with each item I ticked off my list, I felt a distinct sense of accomplishment. What better way to keep my mind off Josh's troubles than to concentrate on thwarting my academic demise? It was definitely better than pacing the floor.

The sun started to go down early--as it did these days--and I flicked on my desk light. When my cell phone rang, it nearly startled all the major organs right out of me. I was surprised to see Noelle's name on the caller ID.

"Hello?" I said, pushing away from my desk.

"Hey, Reed. How's Siberia?"

"Fine," I said with a smirk. "How's New York?"

"It's New York," she said. "I spent half the day at Bergdorf's watching my mother try on slacks."

"How very glamorous," I said.