Oliver
Idon’t shock easily. Amelia’s death was unexpected. Something else happened. Something I didn’t account for. I didn’t see it coming, and that bothers me more than it should.
Unfortunately, after I took Lyra to Willow Reads, I didn’t get eyes on her again for the rest of the day.
Infuriating. I knew bringing her there would make her happy.
It did. She lit up in a way that still feels like an equation I haven’t solved.
I understand the place's charm. It’s also useful.
Willow will order me any book I ask for without question. Without judgment.
Lyra is still missing. I checked every location she cycles through when she thinks she can disappear: her dorm, the library, the coffee shop, the dining hall, the garden, and the fountain.
Even the goddamn showers. Nowhere. Her car is still on campus.
Her phone is still pinging from her room, which I confirmed the moment I walked in and found it sitting on the charger like an afterthought.
We’re going to have a conversation about that.
I even asked Archer to get access to the few cameras on campus, but he said it would take longer than just waiting it out. Still, I made him for future use.
“Why am I nervous?” Vienna whispers.
“It’s a natural response.”
“Aren’t you nervous?” she asks.
“No.”
We walk into the Ashford building. I don’t want to be here. Wanting isn’t part of the job. Appearances are. Since it was clear we were at the party and I spoke to Amelia, I need to be 100% supportive of their search for the truth about what happened.
“What if they ask a trick question or think it will happen again, like a serial killer or—” Her rambling is insufferable.
“Vienna.” My tone is firm. “You need to calm down, otherwise you’ll raise suspicion. You don’t know anything, didn’t see anything. You just happened to be at the same party.”
She inhales, sets her shoulders, and nods. “Yeah, I got this.” I give her a small smile. One that is genuine because, even though I don’t like most people, Vee did manage to get me to care about her.
“Mr. Caldwell.”
I smile for the head of admin. Jeff and I have been friendly since I transferred. Donations help. As well as the fact that I pay for Vienna’s wages for a job she shouldn’t even have been required to do. There’s a woman beside him.
“Jeff.” We shake. “I don’t believe we have met.”
“Helena,” she says. “A counselor.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Why are you here?” Jeff asks.
“Just wanted to do my part. I happened to be at the party and spoke to Amelia.” I let the name sit.
His brows lift. “Really?”
“Yes, and Vienna, who you know, was a prior friend.”
“Yes, Vienna Hollis.” Helena’s hand lands on my forearm. I want to rip her hand off and bleach the offending spot. I don’t misread very often, so why did Helena’s voice dip with disgust at the mention of Vienna?
“It’s just so sad,” she says.
My eyes narrow. “It is. You might want to consider an after-party support system. Have a group of students volunteer to be on call if someone needs help getting home.”
“I love that idea,” Helena says quickly. “It would prevent anyone else from getting hurt if they had just a bit too much to drink.”
Jeff nods like he’s already putting his name on it in his head. “I’m so glad you decided to come to Willow Hill after all.”
“Me as well. If you both will excuse me, I should go.”
“Yes, nice to see you, Oliver.” I make my way toward the back to give my statement.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Caldwell. Thank you for coming in.”
I sit, ankle over knee, just enough ease to read as cooperative, not eager. “Of course.”
“I’m Detective Lesser,” the middle-aged man says, giving me a tight nod. “Can you share what happened at the party, or if you saw Amelia?”
“I was only there a short time.” I shake my head and let the quiet settle. Measured grief is believable. “Amelia was…” I let it hang.
“It’s okay, son, we know Amelia was partying. Anything you say will only help.” This detective seems to be a bit too eager. I ignore him calling me son. If he does it again, he will end up being bait for the animals in the forest.
“She had a few too many drinks, slurring when I spoke to her. She argued with her boyfriend, and it seemed to be escalating. I left shortly after and went home. She was still there.”
He writes. “You are referring to Leo Zanders?”
“Correct.”
“Did you see him the rest of the night?”
“Last time I saw him, he was upstairs, passed out in a room.”
More writing. “Thank you for coming in.”
I shake his hand and look him in the eye. “If you need anything else, reach out.” Then I give them my back and walk out like I have nothing to hide.
I glance at my phone and see Vienna got a ride home, so I head for my car.
I slow as I approach. Red paint is splashed across the hood in thick, ugly strokes, resembling a crime scene.
My driver’s side mirror is shattered, with glass scattering on the concrete.
Two tires appear to have been slashed as well.
I stand there for a moment, hands in my pockets, letting the initial assessment settle. Then my eyebrows start to rise because who is stupid enough to do this on campus?
I pull out my phone and call Archer. He answers on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Do the parking garages on campus have cameras?” I get straight to the point.
“Let me check.” Keys click in the background. “Not inside the garages,” he says a beat later, “but there are feeds in some dorm lobbies, and one outside Ashford Hall.”
“Pull Ashford. Anyone walking toward Garage C in the last forty-five minutes.”
“Give me three minutes.” I’m glad I had him get access earlier today. Knew it would come in handy.
I end the call and step closer, careful of the glass. I lean in, angling my face toward the driver’s side window. On the seat is a USB and a folded note.
I reach through the broken window, grab both, not reacting when a shard slices my knuckle.
You fucking asshole! Stay the fuck away from me. Never touch me again. If you do, I will cut off your dick and feed it to you. I can’t believe you would do this!!!!!! You are dead to me, Oliver Caldwell. Dead.
Seven exclamation points. She’s either spiraling or trying to make sure I understand the depth of her disgust with what I don't know.
My phone buzzes, and Archer’s voice comes through. “There’s a blonde. Average height. wearing all black like she’s Catwoman. Damn, she’s pretty.”
“Say that again, and you’ll lose your tongue.”
A pause, then a laugh. “Copy.”
I hang up, then I make a second call to one of my guys to get the car towed and taken care of. I don’t waste time explaining. When I end the call, my hands are steady again, but there’s a tightness under my ribs that refuses to ease.
Is this another heart attack?
I don’t knock when I get to her door. I use my key. The room is dim. Lyra is in bed with her laptop propped beside her. She jolts upright the second I step inside.
“What the fuck!” she snaps, reaching for a sweatshirt and throwing it on. “Get out!”
“No.” I slam the door behind me.
Her face is blotchy. Nose red. Eyes swollen. That makes something vicious lift in my chest. Anger is automatic. Not at her. At whoever caused it. At whatever caused it. The fact that I wasn’t here to stop it. Then the other thought follows. Why did she do that to my car?
I keep my voice even. “Tell me what happened.”
Her jaw trembles, but then she steels herself. “Fuck you.”
I take one step closer. “Lyra. You vandalized my car and left me a USB. What’s on it?”
Her eyes flash, not anger; it's hurt. I don't get confused often, but I’m super fucking confused right now.
“That USB is what happened.”
I look at the laptop. Back at her. Then I lift the USB between two fingers. “What. Is. On. It?”
Her throat works once. “Proof,” she whispers. “Proof you’re exactly who I knew you were.”
“Which is.” I wait, about to start tapping my foot on the floor.
“Horrible. Now get the fuck out before I call the cops.”
“Cops won’t stop me.” I step to her computer while she watches me like I’m a loaded weapon. I plug in the USB, watch the file pop up, and click play.
Serena’s room fills the screen. I cock my head, confused for only a moment, and then I understand.
I don’t need to watch to know what it is.
I remember every second of that visit. My eyes flick to Lyra.
She’s biting her lip so hard it’s turning white.
She looks like she might be sick. The screen cuts to black, but the audio continues.
Lyra makes a sound like she’s trying to swallow a scream. “Don’t. I’ve watched it enough.”
I don’t stop it. I need to know exactly what Serena did.
“Turn it off!”
“Not yet.” My eyes narrow as I listen.
“Fucking relive it somewhere else, Oliver!” Her voice rises, practically screaming.
“Lyra,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “That isn’t me.”
“It is you!” she spits, and it’s not just anger. It’s hurt. It’s humiliation. It’s the part of her that trusted me screaming at the part of her that knew better. “I saw you. I heard you.” She slams the laptop shut, as if she can kill the memory by breaking the screen.
I move to her, sitting on the edge of the bed, and catch her chin between my fingers, forcing her to look at me.
“That is not me,” I say again, willing her to believe me.
“Yes, the beginning is me. I went into her room for access. She has the files and keys I needed in her system. I tied her up and blindfolded her so she couldn’t see what I was doing. I took what I needed, and I left.”
Her body trembles. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” My voice stays steady even though something hot and murderous is already coiling in my chest. “I have never touched Serena. Not once. Not then. Not ever.”
She tries to pull back, but I move my hand down to her throat.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m about to prove it.” I let go of her and stand.
She scrambles up, panic in her eyes. “Where are you going? Oliver.”
I don’t answer. I stride out of her room and down the hall. Lyra’s footsteps follow a moment later, trying to catch up to me. “Oliver, stop!” she hisses, but I don’t.
I stop in front of Serena’s door and knock, hard enough to rattle the frame. A few seconds later, the door opens. Serena smiles, then she sees my face. The smile quickly falls.
“So what was your plan, Serena? Show Lyra the video and think I wouldn't find out?”
Serena takes a step back. For the first time since I’ve met her, she looks unsure. “I-I didn’t. I meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant,” I cut in. “Why?”
Her chin wobbles, and tears gather in her eyes. Not remorse. Manipulation.
“She doesn’t deserve you.” Serena sniffs, wiping her face with her hand. “I saw you two, and I just—” Is she really this pathetic? I guess so.
“You bitch.”
Serena looks behind me, eyes going wide.
I stifle a laugh, looking back at her, seeing her dressed in an oversized hoodie and pink rainbow slippers. Fuck she’s adorable. I’ve never used that word before, but that is Lyra.
“You mean I don’t deserve her,” I correct.
Lyra’s breath catches behind me.
I wish I could have gotten her destroying my car on camera so I could watch it over and over, seeing the heat, fire, and passion that overtook her. Knowing it was hate mixed with complex emotions about what she thought I would do to her, and the feelings she is only now realizing she has for me.
“Who was in the video after I left?”
Serena’s gaze flicks away. That’s all it takes. My voice drops another notch. “Who?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You didn’t even splice it clean.”
Serena flinches. Lyra steps forward, voice shaking with fury. “You went into my room and did that for what? To scare me? To make me hate him?” She laughs once. “News flash. I can’t get rid of him even if I try.”
God, this girl is perfect. My smile is broad.
Serena’s mouth opens, searching for a new angle, but I’m done.
“Listen carefully.” I plant my hands on either side of her, trapping her against the frame.
“If you ever do anything like this again, if you step within reach of Lyra’s life again, I will make sure I find that man and destroy your life because clearly you don't want it to come out.”
Serena’s face crumples. “Oliver—”
I turn, leaving Serena with those words. She knows they are true. If I wanted, I could find out. Catching Lyra by the waist, I steer her toward her room. She doesn’t fight me. Once inside, I lock the door behind us. A minute later I’m handing a stunned Lyra a glass of water.
“I’m not going to apologize for the car. It was deserved.”
“I don’t want an apology.”
Her eyes are full of words unsaid. “But what you did was fucked up, Oliver.”
“I can see that now, yes,” I say. I don’t defend myself. It hurt her, and I never want to do that again, ever. “I made a decision, and it hurt you. I can see that now.”
She swallows, hands shaking slightly around the glass. “You went into her room.”
“Yes.”
“You-you tied her up. You…looked at her.”
My jaw tightens. “And it was revolting.” I only glanced once to make sure she had both hands up so I could get what I needed done.
Her naked body after Lyra made my dick shrivel up and seek cover.
Lyra blinks, like she doesn’t know what to do with that.
“I had to take a shower once I left because I couldn't handle her scent mixed with yours on my skin. I only want yours.”
She shakes her head as if she’s trying to clear the image. “I need you to leave.”
She needs tonight. It’s been a long few days, and tomorrow is Amelia’s vigil. When I reach the door, I pause. “The car—” I turn back to meet her eyes once more. “Was passionate.”
Lyra lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, I was feeling a lot of emotions.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth. “That’s good. It means you care what I do. It means you care who has my attention.”
Her breath catches. I open the door. “And Lyra,” I add without turning around, “I’m not giving my attention to anyone else.”