I had added Marc's name to the suspect list after seeing James's video, but Marc was now pointing
to the initials S.O.
"So you're S.O.," I said, stunned.
"Yep." Marc handed the list back to me.
I was at a loss for words. I knew Trey suspected someone by the initials S.O. had been seeing
Cheyenne, and I knew
that Marc had pursued Cheyenne and lost. How could the two be one and
the same?
"I don't get it," I said finally. "Why S.O.?"
"It's a common code when you want to cover up your identity," Marc said with a shrug, pulling a
pair of worn leather gloves from his pockets and tugging them on. "Last letter of your first name
and last letter of your last name."
S.O. Marcellus Alberro. It was so obvious now I could have screamed. Was all my paranoia and
desperation affecting the logical side of my brain?
"Just FYI, I didn't do it," Marc said. "I wasn't even on campus that night. My brother came up from
Miami and we went clubbing in New York. He ended up passed out on a bar stool and I had to drag
him by his armpits to a cab and take him to the hospital. It was way fun," he added sarcastically.
"The cops know all this and have checked it out, by the way."
Apparently the police had been more thorough than I realized.
"Well, I didn't do it either," I told him. "But I have nothing like that for an alibi."
112
"It's okay. I kind of doubt you'd be investigating her death if you had done it," Marc told me,
shoving his legal pad back in his bag. "Wanna go back inside now that you know you're not in
mortal peril?" he joked. "It's freezing out here."
"Definitely," I replied, feeling chagrined.
Suddenly I couldn't believe that I had been running from him just moments ago. This whole ordeal
was really making me paranoid, and I didn't like the feeling. Marc started walking up the stairs,
back toward the library, and I fell into step with him. I took a deep breath of the cold air, letting it
whisk away the last of my suspicion.
"I just have one more question," I said. "How the hell did you afford all those roses?"