Chapter Thirty-Five – Morning Light

I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the sound of Ashley's muffled laughter.

Myles was still beside me, his head now resting against the headboard, his hand still loosely holding mine. He was awake, watching me with those dark eyes that always seemed to see too much.

"You snore," he said.

"I do not."

"Lightly. It's actually kind of adorable."

I pulled my hand away and sat up, my cheeks warming. Ashley was standing by her bed, her phone raised, a grin spread across her face.

"Delete that," I said.

"Never." She tucked her phone into her pocket. "This is blackmail material for life."

Madden was already dressed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her laptop open on her knees. She looked up when I stirred, her expression unreadable.

"You're both disgusting," she said. But there was no heat in it. Almost a smile.

I looked around the room. At Ashley's cat socks and Madden's sharp eyes and Myles's tired smile. At the people who had become my family when I wasn't looking.

"You guys are…” I said.

"We know," Ashley said. "We're amazing. No need to thank us."

“I’m hungry guys.” Madden announced burying herself into my bed.

"Then let's go eat," Ashley said, already pulling on her shoes. "I heard the dining hall has pancakes today. The good kind, not the cardboard ones."

"All pancakes are good pancakes," Myles said, stretching his arms above his head.

"Tell that to the ones from last Tuesday. I'm pretty sure they were made from sawdust."

We filed out of the room together, a messy parade of mismatched socks and sleepy eyes and hair that hadn't seen a brush in hours. The hallway smelled like coffee and someone's burnt toast. Doors opened and closed as other students emerged, blinking in the morning light like creatures surfacing from hibernation.

The dining hall was already crowded when we arrived.

We found a table near the windows, claimed it with jackets and backpacks, and dispersed to the food stations. I grabbed a tray, loaded it with eggs and toast and a banana I probably wouldn't eat, and stood in line for coffee with Myles and Ashley.

That's when I saw him.

Standing near the salad bar, a cup of coffee in his hand, his eyes fixed on me.

Gray hair. Wire-rimmed glasses. Lab coat over a button-down shirt.

Professor Vance.

I'd seen photographs of him. Madden had pointed him out once, from across the quad. But seeing him in person was different. He was smaller than I'd expected. Less imposing. He looked like someone's grandfather, the kind of man who helped old ladies cross the street and donated to the local library.

But his eyes...

His eyes were cold.

He smiled when he saw me looking.

Then he turned and walked toward the exit, disappearing through the doors without looking back.

---

I looked at Myles who noticed me starting at that direction.

“Was that….”

“Yep, that’s professor Vance.”

"That was Vance?”

"Where?" Ashley popped her head out from the queue trying to get a glimpse of what we were saying.

"He just left. He was standing right there. Watching me."

Myles's jaw tightened. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No. Even if he did I probably won’t be able to hear him Myles, he just smiled and walked away."

"Well that’s not creepy at all."

I grabbed my coffee and followed them back to the table.

---

"So," Ashley said, spearing a piece of pancake with her fork. "What's the plan for today?"

"Classes," Madden said. "Then studying. Then more studying. Then crying. Then sleeping."

"That sounds depressing."

"No, that’s college."

I picked at my eggs, my mind still stuck on Vance's eyes. The way they'd fixed on me. The way he'd smiled.

"Earth to Alexa." Myles's voice was soft. "You gonna eat those eggs?"

"Yeah, yeah." I shot him a weak smile.

"Are you sure you’re okay, you keep zoning out."

"I'm thinking about him. Vance. The way he was staring at me, kind of felt strange."

"Maybe he knows you're Alice's sister," Madden said flatly."

"You think so? But he won’t know I'm asking questions right? He doesn't know who I really am."

"Doesn't he?" Madden set down her fork. "He's not stupid, Alexa. He's been running that lab for twenty years. He knows things. He sees things. And he's been watching you since the day you arrived."

The table went quiet.

And Madden laughed holding her chest, “oh my God, you should see the look on your faces, I’m messing with you guys, relax.”

"Oh come on Madden that wasn’t nice" I frowned.

"That's terrifying," Ashley whispered.

“You guys need to take a chill pill. I worked in the lab for sometime, Professor Vance isn’t so bad. You were probably a new face to him”

I couldn't eat after that.

I pushed my eggs around my plate, took a few sips of coffee, and pretended I wasn't losing my appetite. Myles ate in silence, his knee pressed against mine under the table. Ashley and Madden talked about classes, about assignments, about anything that wasn't Vance or the lab or dead girls.

At 9 AM, we walked to class together.

The psych building was old, brick, covered in ivy that looked charming from a distance but up close was just a mess of bugs and dead leaves. The lecture hall was on the second floor, a large room with tiered seating and a chalkboard that hadn't been cleaned in years.

I sat in the back, near the door. Old habits.

Myles sat beside me. Ashley and Madden sat in the row in front of us, close enough to whisper, far enough to pretend they weren't listening.

Professor Hans walked in at 9:02.

"Good morning," he said, setting his briefcase on the podium. "Today we're discussing trauma. Its effects on the brain. Its effects on behavior. Its effects on relationships."

He looked up. His eyes scanned the room.

"Trauma isn't just something that happens to you," he continued. "It's something that lives inside you. It changes you. It rewires your brain. It makes you see threats where there are none, and miss threats that are right in front of you."

My blood went cold.

"Some of you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said. "Some of you are living with trauma right now. And some of you..." He paused for a minute . "...are just beginning to understand what it means to carry it."

I looked down at my notebook.

My hands were shaking. His voice became nothing but echoes and I felt myself entering my own world, until a warm hand covered my shaking hands.

"Hey you okay?" he whispered.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and went back to listening.

—-

Myles walked me to the library, carrying all my books and small duffel bag.

“Do you want me to ask or you are going to tell me yourself.”

“I’m fine, I just zoned out.”

"You're not fine. Your hands were shaking."

"I'm just... thinking."

"About what?"

About trauma. About how it lives inside you. About how it changes you. About how I'd been carrying mine for so long I'd forgotten what it felt like to put it down.

"About Alice," I said. "About what she must have felt. In the water. At the end."

Myles stopped walking. He turned to face me, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes searching my face.

"You can't think like that," he said.

"How else am I supposed to think? She's gone. She's never coming back. And the person who killed her is still out there. Walking around. Eating breakfast. Probably even smiling at me."

"We're going to find out who did it."

"Are we? Because right now, we have nothing. No evidence. No witnesses. No suspects."

"We have each other."

"That's not enough."

He pulled me into a hug. I stiffened at first, then leaned into him, my face pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

"It's going to be okay," he said.

"You don't know that."

"No. But I'm going to keep saying it until it's true."

---

The library was quiet at 11 AM.

I found a carrel in the back corner, away from the windows, away from the doors. Myles sat across from me, his textbook open to a chapter he wasn't reading, his eyes on my face.

"Stop staring at me," I said.

"I'm not staring. I'm observing."

"Same thing."

"Different thing. Staring is creepy. Observing is scientific."

“Ouuu, take it easy, Albert Einstein.”

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

“Miss James, I hope this message finds you well. I understand you're studying forensic psychology. I'd love to discuss your interests. My office. 2 PM. I think you'll find the conversation... enlightening.

—Professor Vance

"Who's that?" Myles asked, nodding toward my phone.

But before I could answer, Ashley came running into the library, yelling my name at full volume.

"SHHHH!" The librarian's voice cut through the air like a blade. Several students turned to stare.

Ashley froze mid-stride, her face flushed, her chest heaving. "Sorry, sorry," she whispered, tiptoeing the rest of the way to where I and Myles sat. She collapsed into the chair beside me, her hands gripping the armrests.

"Ashley, are you okay?" I asked.

She was shaking. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. This wasn't her usual dramatic entrance. This was fear.

"You guys haven't read the school news?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why? Am I on it?" I smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't be funny. It's 11 AM."

"Okay? This sounds serious."

"We have a problem."

My stomach tightened. "What kind of problem?"

Ashley pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she unlocked the screen. She navigated to a news article and handed the device to me.

I looked down.

BODY FOUND IN WESTBROOK LAKE IDENTIFIED AS CALEB REYNOLDS

The words blurred and sharpened, blurred and sharpened. I read them again. And again. And again.

Caleb Reynolds. Third-year student. Found floating near the pier. Cause of death: drowning. Police are investigating.

I hadn't told them about Caleb. About finding his body in the water.

Now they had found him.

Myles took the phone from my hand. I watched his face as he read, his lips parting wider with each passing second, his jaw going slack, his eyes darkening.

"Caleb?" he said. "From psych class? The guy who kept trying to talk to you?"

"That's him," Ashley confirmed. "They found him this morning. A jogger saw something floating near the shore and called it in."

This was like three days ago and the whole school is just finding out now. I knew something was up.

"Was it an accident?" Myles asked.

But before he could get an answer, the doors of the library busted open.

Every head turned. Every conversation stopped. The silence was sudden and absolute, the kind of silence that happens right before something terrible.

Two officers stood in the doorway. Both in uniform. Both wearing the same expression,neutral, professional, unreadable.

They scanned the room. Their eyes landed on our table.

On me.

They walked over, their footsteps echoing on the polished floor. Students watched in silence, their phones raised, their whispers already starting. I could feel the weight of their stares like stones.

The officers stopped at my table.

"Miss Nova James," the taller one said. "You are requested to follow us to the station."

My blood turned to ice.

"For what?" Myles stood up, positioning himself between me and the officers. "What are the charges?"

"No charges. Just questions."

"Questions about what?"

The officer looked at Myles. His expression didn't change. "About the death of Caleb Reynolds."