That was late last night.
As of this morning before he left for campus, there had been no reply. But he quickened his pace instinctively now, eager to get back home to his computer.
Sarah Rose kept up with him. “Are you done for the day?”
“With exams, you mean? Yeah.”
“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something, then?”
“I can’t.”
He said it hastily, harshly, almost-and instantly regretted it when he saw the hurt expression on her face.
“I have to be somewhere,” he explained, softening his tone. “Maybe some other time.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Give me your number. I’ll call you.”
She did give it to him…but her expression told him that she doubted he’d dial it.
He doubted it, too.
Then again…he did give her his number when she asked for it.
After all, he and his high-school girlfriend, Elisa, had been broken up for months now-ever since she came home from St. Bonaventure over Christmas break and told him she wanted to see other people.
Which meant she was already seeing other people. More specifically, one other person, Leo suspected.
Turned out he was right.
Oh, well. He and Elisa were mostly a comfortable old habit by that time, anyway. Moving on was the right thing to do.
As for pretty, red-haired, green-eyed Sarah Rose…
Maybe he’d call. Maybe he wouldn’t.
Right now, the only woman on his mind had dark hair and eyes and a dimple to match his own.
“See you,” he told Sarah Rose and hurried toward the subway, unaware that he was being watched from the shadows beside a campus bus shelter.
“Kristen?”
“No…this is her daughter.”
“Oh. May I please speak to Kristen?” Lindsay held her breath, hoping her old friend was at home. It was around noon in Portland. She had tried the work number first, at the newspaper, only to get her voicemail. She hung up. She couldn’t just leave a message after twenty years.
You did when you called Aurora back, she reminded herself.
But that was different. She couldn’t leave a message about something like this.
“Who’s calling, please?” asked the teenaged voice on the other end of the line, sounding polite, efficient, and bubbly-very much like her mother had twenty years ago.
“It’s an old friend…about the reunion.”
“Okay, hang on,” the voice said politely. There was a clatter, then a bluntly bellowed, “Mom! Phone!”
Lindsay would have smiled if she weren’t still so shaken by the doctored photograph in her hand.
“Hello?” The voice that came on the line was a decidedly grown-up version of the one that had just left it.
“Kristen?”
“Yes…?”
“It’s Lindsay.”
There was a gasp on the other end. “Oh my God. I was going to call you later.”
Yeah, sure you were, Lindsay found herself thinking reflexively. She’d heard that before, senior year, when they were both trying halfheartedly to cling to a doomed friendship, pretending they still cared about each other, that they were still making an effort.
Then she reminded herself that this wasn’t high school anymore. Kristen was no longer holding a grudge against her over Jake…she couldn’t be.
Really? Then why did she disfigure your picture?
Lindsay told herself, yet again, that it had to be some kind of accident. Kristen couldn’t possibly be that immature even if she hadn’t gotten over Jake.
Maybe somebody had spilled some red nail polish on Lindsay’s photo, or…
Something.
That was why Lindsay had decided to call her old-perhaps former-friend. To find out what was up. To reassure herself that there was nothing sinister behind the red slash.
“Listen,” she began, “I just got the reunion invitation, and for some reason my picture was-”
“You heard about Haylie, right?” Kristen asked simultaneously.
“What?” they both said, after a brief, startled pause.
“Lindsay…your picture was…what were you about to tell me?”
“There was a red mark slashed through it.”
“Across the face, right? I didn’t do it,” Kristen said in a rush.
“The envelope had your name on the return address.”
“I know, I put the packets together, but the picture didn’t come from me. Somebody tampered with the envelopes and put them in. We all got them.”
“All…who?”
“Me, you, Rachel, Bella, Aurora, Mandy…and Haylie.”
All our old friends, Lindsay thought incredulously. What was going on?
When she asked Kristen, she said, “We think Haylie sent them. She had just lashed out at all of us at the last reunion meeting.”
“Why?”
“Same old thing. Ian. Jake.”
“Still?”
“Some things never change, apparently. She was still a real nutcase.”
“Did you guys confront her and ask her if she sent those pictures, then?”
“We would have if she hadn’t-”
“What?” Lindsay prodded when Kristen cut herself off.
There was a pause. “So you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Haylie’s dead, Lindsay.”
She gasped.
Somehow, even now, with years and miles separating her from her old life, her old friends, she was sickened, shocked, at the untimely demise of the girl she once knew. “How…when did it happen?”
“I don’t know exactly when, but the police think it’s been a couple of days at least. She, uh, lived alone, except for a bunch of cats, so nobody found her right away. One of the neighbors noticed a smell…”
“Oh my God.”
“I know. It’s horrible. Lindsay, I’m scared.”
“You’re…scared? Because Haylie died?”
“She didn’t just die. She was murdered-”
“What?”
“-and the police don’t know who did it.”
Murdered. Just like Jake. Lindsay’s thoughts whirled madly as Kristen’s shocking words sunk in. Somebody killed Haylie? And got away with it?
And now somebody is calling me in the middle of the night, and sending me pictures with my face crossed out…
“They think it might have been a random thing.” Kristen’s voice broke through her frantic thoughts. “It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, and her apartment had been burglarized…”
“But you don’t think so?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Lindsay pondered that.
“Listen,” Kristen said briskly, “you’re not home, are you?”
“No, I’m in New York,” she replied, before she realized that New York was supposed to be home.
But Kristen was talking about Portland, as if she sensed how Lindsay felt about it even now, after all these years. Home. Portland was home.
“Good. You still live there, right?” When Lindsay murmured an affirmative, Kristen said, “You should stay put, then, Lindsay. Just in case you were thinking of coming back for any reason.”
“I was going to come to the reunion.”
“It’s not until July. Hopefully by then the police will have figured out what’s going on with Haylie’s death. But if I were you, I’d stay as far away from Portland as possible until they find out who did it. I’m not even living at home right now. I’m too scared someone will come after me next.”
“Then…what are you doing there now?”
“We just happened to be here packing up some more stuff because there’s no telling how long we’ll have to be away.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m at-” Kristen broke off suddenly.
Then she said, her voice laced with trepidation, “I’m afraid to say over the phone. It might be tapped or something.”
“You’re not serious…are you?”
“Yes, I’m serious. Listen, somebody broke into my house and my car, stole some of my old stuff, and tampered with those reunion invitations…”
“I thought you said it was Haylie.”
“I’m pretty positive it must have been. But…well, what if it wasn’t?”