Chapter Seventeen - Sweet Dreams

The photograph sat on my mattress like a living thing.

I couldn't stop staring at it. At my own face, slack with sleep, unaware. At the angle of the shot,taken from the doorway, which meant someone had opened our door, stepped inside, and stood there long enough to frame the picture.

Ashley had been right there. Three feet away. Sleeping just as deeply.

Neither of us had stirred.

My hands were still shaking when I picked up the photograph again. The words on the back seemed darker now, the red substance almost black in the dim light.

Sweet dreams.

Not a threat. A taunt. Someone had been close enough to touch me, and they'd chosen to take a picture instead.

Why?

I thought about the warning on the lake photograph. You should have stayed away. Then the break-in. Then the napkin. Now this.

Whoever was doing this wasn't trying to hurt me. Not yet. They were playing with me. Testing me. Seeing how far they could push before I broke.

I wasn't going to break.

But I was going to find out who they were.

---

I didn't sleep that night.

I sat against the wall, facing the door, the lockpick set in my hand. Ashley slept through it all, her breathing soft and untroubled. She had no idea someone had stood over her bed in the dark.

I envied that. The ability to sleep without fear.

At 6 AM, the sky started to lighten. I pulled back the curtain and looked out at the fire escape. Empty. The parking lot below was still dark, but I could see the shape of cars, the curve of the streetlights, the trees shifting in the wind.

No black sedan.

Not today.

---

Ashley woke up at 7:30, stretching like a cat, completely unaware.

"Did you get any sleep at all?, you look terrible." she said, her voice scratchy with sleep.

"Another bad dream."

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I'd rather not.” I looked outside the window again as if searching for something.

She didn't believe me. I could see it in her eyes. But she didn't push. She just grabbed her towel and headed for the shower, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I pulled out my phone.

Detective Cross had sent another message: Anything new?

I typed back: Someone took a picture of me sleeping. Left it under my pillow.

Her response came immediately: Stay there. I'm coming.

No. I'm fine,I have class. I'll call you later.

I wasn't fine. But I didn't have time to wait for her to drive all the way to campus. I had questions. And I had a list.

Breakfast with them was quiet.

Myles as always was already at the table when Ashley and I arrived. He had coffee waiting,black for me, something sugary for Ashley. Madden showed up a few minutes later, her cast now covered in new signatures.

"You look exhausted," Madden said, sitting across from me.

"I'm fine.”

She didn't look convinced. Neither did Myles. But neither of them pushed. That was the thing about this group,they let me have my walls. They didn't try to tear them down. They just sat on the other side, waiting.

I wasn't sure if that made it easier or harder.

After breakfast, I pulled Myles aside.

"Can you do something for me?"

"Depends on what it is."

"I need to know who has access to the dorm keys. Besides students."

He frowned. "Campus security. Maintenance staff. The housing office." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"Nova." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "What's going on?"

I almost told him. Almost pulled out the photograph. Almost said, Someone was in my room last night. Someone stood over my bed and took a picture of me sleeping.

But I didn't.

Because Myles was still on my list. Everyone was still on my list.

"Nothing," I said. "Just wondering."

He studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"If you need help," he said, "you'll tell me?"

"Sure."

"You're lying."

"I know."

He sighed, but there was no anger in it. Just something that looked almost like resignation. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But when you're ready to talk, I'm here."

And then he walked away.

I didn’t have time to feel emotions. Things were getting worse while I was busy making friends. And I wasn't sure this was something I wanted to do on my own any more.

The first thing I did after class that day was to head to the Library.

It was quiet at 2 PM.

I found a carrel in the back corner, away from the windows, away from the doors. I spread out my notes,such as they were,and stared at the list of names.

Madden Lighter. She'd been hostile, then less hostile. She'd lost Natalie, then Alice. She had a key to the BioMed lab. But she hadn't left the napkin.

Myles Clay. Alice's boyfriend. Grieving. Gentle. He'd been at the lake that night, but he had an alibi. Twenty witnesses at a party. Could he have slipped away?

Ashley Grant. My roommate. Friendly. Too friendly? She'd been in the library the night Alice died. Security footage confirmed it. But security footage could be faked.

Professor Vance. Ran the BioMed lab. Alice worked for him. Elena worked for him. One dead. One dissapeared.

Helena Vance. His daughter. Graduate assistant. Always watching. Always smiling that cold smile.

Caleb. The boy from Psych class. Too eager. Too friendly. Said he was friends with Alice.

Earl. The janitor. I stared at the name, I hadn’t gotten any useful information from him, he sure was creepy the night we met.

******

It was the day after the break-in. Ashley was in class. I couldn't sit still. The photograph of Alice was still in my jacket, the warning still fresh in my mind. I needed to move. To think. To do something.

So I walked.

The BioMed building was quiet at 2 PM. I didn't have a reason to be there. No classes. No appointments. Just a feeling. The same feeling that had been gnawing at me since I'd arrived on campus.

Something was wrong in that building.

I slipped through the side door and into a narrow hallway. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The floor was linoleum, gray and scuffed. The walls were painted the color of old teeth.

That's when I saw him.

A man in a janitor's uniform, standing at the end of the hallway. He wasn't mopping. He wasn't cleaning. He was just... standing. Staring at a door. A metal door with a keypad lock and a sign that read: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

He had his hand on the door. Not pushing. Not pulling. Just resting there, like he was listening to something on the other side.

I stopped walking. Pressed myself against the wall.

He turned his head. Slowly. Deliberately.

His eyes found mine.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he pulled his hand away from the door and walked toward me. His footsteps were soft, almost silent, like he'd practiced moving without being heard.

"You lost?" he asked. His voice was low, rough, like gravel.

"Wrong building," I said. "I'll go."

"Wait."

I froze.

He stopped a few feet away. Close enough that I could see the lines on his face, the gray in his hair, the way his hands hung at his sides. His knuckles were white. Like he was clenching his fists inside his pockets.

"You're the transfer student," he said. "The one who took Alice's scholarship."

My pulse jumped. "How do you know that?"

"Everyone knows." He tilted his head. "You look like her. Around the eyes."

"Who?"

"Alice." He said her name like it hurt. "She used to bring me coffee. Late nights. Said I worked too hard."

I didn't respond. I just watched him. The way his eyes darted to the door. The way his hands twitched. The way he seemed to be listening for something.

"Why are you really here?" he asked.

"I told you. Wrong building."

"That's not what I meant." He stepped closer. "Why are you really at Westbrook? Why did you take her scholarship? Why are you asking questions about her?"

My heart hammered. "I'm not…."

“…Don't lie to me, girl." His voice was sharp now. "I've been here twenty-three years. I know when someone's lying."

I swallowed. "I'm a true crime writer. Her case is interesting."

"Interesting." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "That's one word for it."

He looked at the door again. Then back at me.

"You should leave," he said. "This building isn't safe. Not for people like you."

"People like me?"

"People who ask questions." He turned away. "Go back to your dorm. Forget you saw me. Forget this building. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave and never come back."

He walked away before I could respond. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading into the hum of the lights.

I stood there for a long moment.

Then I looked at the door. The metal door. The keypad lock. The sign that said AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

He'd had his hand on it. Like he knew it. Like he'd opened it before.

I pulled out my phone and typed a note to myself: Janitor. BioMed basement. He knows something.

Then I walked out of the building, my heart still pounding, my mind still racing.

That was the first time I saw Earl.

But It wasn't the last.

*********

And now there was someone else. Someone whose name I didn't know.

I circled the last line and wrote a question mark next to it.

At 4 PM, I went to find Earl.

The BioMed building was quiet at this hour, most of the labs empty, the hallways echoing with the hum of fluorescent lights. I found him in the basement, mopping a floor that already looked clean.

"Miss," he said without looking up. "You shouldn't be down here."

"I have questions."

"I already told you what I know."

"You said strange things happen in this school ."

He stopped mopping. Leaned on the handle. His eyes were tired, older than the rest of his face.

"I said a lot of things. Doesn't mean they're true."

"But they are true. Please Earl, I need your help.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked around, checking the hallway, checking the doors.

"Meet me at the greenhouse," he said. "Tonight. 11 PM. I'll tell you what I know. But not here. Not where they can hear."

"Who?"

He didn't answer. He just started mopping again, his back to me, his silence louder than any words.

I stood there for a moment, then turned and walked away.

That’s the only thing I could think about.

The greenhouse at 11 PM.

Another meeting. Another late night. Another chance for something to go wrong.

But Earl knew something. I could see it in his eyes, in the way his hands shook when he mentioned Alice. He was scared. And scared people told the truth.

I just had to survive long enough to hear it.

Dinner was tense.

I stared at my food, the memories of these past few weeks crashing in.

Ashley could tell something was off. She kept glancing at me, her brow furrowed, her questions unasked. Madden was quiet too, picking at her food without really eating. Myles was the only one who seemed normal, telling stories about his classes, making Ashley laugh despite herself.

"Earth to Nova." he said to me at one point.

I looked up to find faces staring at me like I was a show they were waiting to play.

“Are you okay?” He asked

"Doing what?"

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking.”

"About what?" Ashley was the one who asked this time.

About a janitor who's going to tell me the truth about my sister's murder.

"Nothing important," I said. “You guys have dinner without me, I have…uhm something to do.” And without waiting to hear a word from them I walked away but not early enough to see the confused looks on their faces.

I walked back to the dorm alone. I needed to think, and prepare.

The path was dark, the old-fashioned lamps casting weak pools of light on the gravel. The trees pressed close on either side, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers.

I walked faster.

The dorm was quiet when I got there. The hallway was empty. The door to my room was closed.

I unlocked it, stepped inside, and froze.

The room was exactly how we'd left it. Ashley's clothes on the floor. My bare mattress. The cracked laptop on the desk.

But something was different.

The curtain was open. I never left the curtain open.

I crossed to the window and looked out.

The fire escape was empty. The parking lot was empty. The streetlight flickered, casting shadows that danced across the pavement.

And then I saw it.

Tucked into the frame of the window, wedged between the glass and the sill, was a piece of paper.

I pulled it out.

One word. Typewritten. Same red substance.

Soon.

My blood ran cold.

I turned around, my back to the window, my eyes scanning the room. The closet. The bathroom. The space under the bed.

No one.

But someone had been here.

Someone had opened the curtain. Someone had left this note.

Someone was watching, waiting, counting down.

I locked the door. Checked the window. Checked the closet. Checked every shadow, every corner, every place someone could hide.

The room was empty.

But I didn't feel alone.

I sat on my mattress, the note clutched in my hand, and waited for Ashley to come back.

The clock ticked. 9 PM. 10 PM. 11 PM.

The greenhouse.

Earl.

I had to go.

But the note said Soon.

And I couldn't shake the feeling that tonight, everything was going to change.

---

The walk to the greenhouse took fifteen minutes.

The path was darker than before, the clouds covering the moon, the trees swallowing the light. I kept my hand in my pocket, wrapped around the lockpick set, ready for anything.

The greenhouse appeared through the trees, its glass panels fogged, its frames rusted. No lights inside. No movement.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The air was thick, wet, heavy with the smell of soil and something rotting. Rows of plants lined the walls, their leaves dripping with condensation. A single bulb flickered overhead, casting just enough light to see the path ahead.

"Earl?"

No answer.

I walked deeper into the greenhouse, past tables of seedlings and shelves of fertilizer. The path curved, and then I saw him.

Earl lay on the ground, his body twisted at an angle that shouldn't have been possible. His eyes were open. His mop lay beside him, the handle snapped in two.

And on his chest, pinned there with a gardening trowel, was a piece of paper.

One sentence. Typewritten. Red.

You're too late.

Behind me, the door slammed shut.

The lock clicked.

And somewhere in the dark, a floorboard creaked.

I wasn't alone.