Chapter 7: Breadcrumbs

DERICK'S POV

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that silhouette on the rooftop, phone raised, watching Ciel like prey. The blackmailer wasn't hiding behind screens anymore. They were here. On campus. Close enough to touch.

At six in the morning, I pounded on Leo's door. He opened it looking like he hadn't slept either.

"Ciel's on his way," I said, pushing past him. "Tell me you found something."

Leo rubbed his eyes and gestured to his laptop, which was surrounded by empty coffee cups. "I've been working all night. The metadata on the video is clean. Whoever recorded it knew what they were doing."

"So we have nothing?"

"I didn't say that." He sat down and pulled up a window filled with code. "The messages were sent through a burner phone, but that phone connected to the campus Wi-Fi. Specifically, the east wing router."

"The hockey dorms."

"Exactly. And here's where it gets interesting." He clicked on a log file. "The phone pinged the network at 2:47 AM last night. At the exact same time, someone used a student ID to access the rooftop of the east wing."

My heart slammed against my ribs. "Whose ID?"

"I can't see that from these logs. The campus security system stores that data separately. But I know someone who can get it."

Ciel appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in black, his silver hair pulled back tight. His eyes moved from Leo to me, then to the laptop.

"What did you find?"

Leo explained. The burner phone. The east wing. The rooftop access. Ciel listened without moving, his face unreadable. But I noticed his hands. They were shaking.

"Who has access to security records?" Ciel asked.

"Head of campus security," Leo said. "But he's not going to hand over student records without a reason."

"Then we give him a reason." Ciel stepped fully into the room. "We tell him someone's been threatening students. Which is true."

"He'll ask questions," I said. "He'll want to know what's on the video."

"Then we don't mention the video." Ciel's voice was sharp. "We tell him we've been getting threatening texts. That someone followed me across campus last night. That's enough."

Leo nodded slowly. "That could work. But we need to move fast. The blackmailer gave you twenty-four hours. You've got about eighteen left."

Eighteen hours. The number sat in my chest like a stone.

"Let's go," I said.

The security office was in the basement of the administration building. A squat man with a combover and coffee-stained teeth sat behind the desk. His nameplate read "Henderson."

"Students aren't allowed back here," he said without looking up.

"Someone threatened my friend last night." I planted my hands on his desk. "They were on the rooftop. We have proof."

Henderson finally looked up. His eyes narrowed. "What kind of proof?"

Leo stepped forward and showed him the network logs on his phone. "The burner phone used the east wing Wi-Fi. At the same time, someone accessed the rooftop with a student ID. We need to know whose ID."

Henderson leaned back in his chair. "Those logs are confidential."

"Someone is stalking us," Ciel said quietly. "They took photos of me last night. They sent threatening messages. If you don't help us, and something happens," He let the sentence hang. "That's on you."

The security guard's face flickered. Fear, maybe. Or guilt. He glanced at the logs again.

"Give me the time stamp," he muttered.

Leo read it off. 2:47 AM. Henderson typed it into his system with thick, slow fingers. The computer whirred.

"Rooftop access requires a keycard and a student ID code," Henderson said. "Only seniors living in the east wing have clearance. Last night, only one keycard was used at that time."

"Whose?" I demanded.

He turned the monitor toward us.

The name on the screen made my blood stop.

Tracy Holloway.

"That's impossible," I said. "She's not a senior. She doesn't live in the east wing."

Henderson shrugged. "The keycard doesn't lie. Someone used her card."

Ciel grabbed my arm. His fingers were ice cold. "She could have given it to someone. Or someone stole it."

"Or she's working with someone," Leo added.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. Tracy had every reason to hate me. I'd used her, humiliated her, discarded her like trash. But last night, the figure on the rooftop was too tall to be Tracy. The silhouette was wrong.

"She's not working alone," I said. "She's a pawn. Someone else is pulling the strings."

Ciel let go of my arm. "Then we find Tracy and make her talk."

Tracy's dorm was on the third floor of the west wing. The hallway was silent when we reached her door. I knocked. No answer. I knocked harder.

"It's six in the morning," Leo hissed. "Maybe she's sleeping."

"Or maybe she knows we're coming." I tried the handle. Locked.

Ciel pulled something from his pocket. A bobby pin. He knelt by the lock and worked it for about ten seconds. The door clicked open.

"Where did you learn that?" I asked.

"None of your business." He pushed the door open.

Tracy's room was empty. The bed was made. The closet was open. Clothes were scattered across the floor like she'd packed in a hurry.

And on the desk, right next to a framed photo of Tracy at a party, smiling, happy, before I'd ruined her, was a single red rose.

Just like the ones I'd given Ciel.

"What the hell," Leo breathed.

Ciel picked up the rose. Beneath it was a note, written in sharp, slanted handwriting.

"You wanted to destroy him. So did I. Let's help each other. — W"

"'W,'" I read out loud. "Who the hell is W?"

Ciel's face had gone pale again. "Warren."

"Warren who?"

"Warren." He looked at me, and I saw real fear in his eyes. "Your father's fixer."

The name hit me like a body check. Warren. The man my father hired to handle his dirty work. The man who made problems disappear.

But why would Warren be working with Tracy?

My phone buzzed. A new message. The same unknown number.

I opened it slowly.

Unknown: Found the rose. Good. Now you know. But knowing won't save you. Seventeen hours left. Tell anyone, and the video goes to your mother, Laurent. Tick-tock.

I looked up at Ciel. His eyes were on my phone. He'd read every word.

"Your father," he whispered. "Your father is behind this."

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to say my father was ruthless but not evil. But I'd seen the file on Ciel's family rinks. I'd heard the threats. I knew what Marcus Blackwood was capable of.

"He's using Tracy," I said. "Using all of us."

Ciel's expression hardened into something I recognized. The same ice mask he wore on the rink. But this time, it wasn't aimed at me.

"Then we use him back," he said. "We have seventeen hours. Let's make them count."

He walked out of Tracy's room, the rose still clutched in his hand.