Chapter 24 #2
The sunlight outside is brutal, bouncing off red brick walkways and the pale sandstone buildings that frame the courtyard.
Heat radiates upwards in shimmering waves off the pavement, making me already regret my all black attire.
Marlena threads her fingers through mine and Austin’s, holding us tight like we’re kids again playing safety-in-numbers—even though we all know that hand-holding won’t stop anything.
We cut across the quad, weaving through clusters of officers in uniform and the booths that have sprouted up since the start of class.
Student organizations have lined the walkway, their folding tables covered in neat stacks of flyers, banners fluttering weakly in the breeze.
Some hand out slips for tutoring sessions and study groups, others advertise hiking trips, art clubs, or trivia nights at the union.
A few try to pass out candy with their pamphlets, bright smiles plastered on their faces, but even those smiles don’t quite hold.
The entire effort feels forced, thin, and hollow, like stage dressing slapped over a crumbling set.
Still, I can’t blame them. Maybe that’s what people need—something to look at that isn’t fear.
We stop at the stone bench tucked beneath the arch that frames the path to the Student Union.
Marlena sits between Austin and me, her posture squared and firm, but her grip tight, fingers digging into mine like she’s afraid I’ll slip away into the tide of bodies.
She turns to me, her voice soft, curious in a way that makes me pause.
“How are you doing, Rae? How are things with that cop?”
Her voice is gentle, almost teasing, but the question lands heavier than it should.
She doesn’t know about the card. Or the note.
She doesn’t know most of it. Only Tessa and Emilio do.
I’ve kept the rest locked down, tucked into the shadows of my chest where the weight sits constant.
But the weight of her gaze tugs the words loose anyway.
I manage a small laugh, thin but real. “Things with Emilio are good. Great, actually.” A flicker of heat creeps into my cheeks. “The sex is amazing.” Marlena snorts softly, shaking her head, but I press on, quieter now. “But… he’s worried I’m being targeted.”
Her expression sharpens, confusion flashing across her face. “Why would he think that?”
I let out a breath and lean forward, elbows braced against my knees. My gaze shifts down toward the gravel underfoot, and I nudge a piece with the toe of my boot. I’m hesitant, like rolling gravel or not looking at her, won’t push her to keep asking.
So I give in and kick the gravel piece away before bringing my eyes to hers. “Because of this card I found on my doorstep a few weeks ago that I thought was some kind of prank, and this note Emilio found at Bailey and Liam’s murder scene… they’re written in the same handwriting.”
The smirk fades from her face entirely, replaced by something brittle. “Rae… are you being threatened?”
“Yes and no.” I drag a hand through my hair, frustration hot in my chest. “The note never mentioned me specifically. But on the card… I got asked if my fate would be the same.” I pause, the memory of that line sharp and sour.
“So… I don’t know. Emilio doesn’t want to take any chances.
He wasn’t exactly thrilled about me going to school today, but I reminded him that he won’t always be around to protect me.
I have to be able to stand on my own, or there’s no point in him teaching me self-defense or how to shoot a gun.
Besides, he can’t just abandon his job to babysit me.
I’d rather he be out there catching criminals and looking for this killer than hovering over me every second. ”
Marlena blinks, then quirks a brow. “He taught you how to shoot a gun?”
“Yes,” I answer, my lips twitching at the corners, “and self-defense. Although… the self-defense training was a lot more fun.” I wink.
“Oh?” she questions, but then her eyes light up as she figures the answer out herself. “Ohhh.” A laugh bursts out of her.
I nod, biting back my own grin, before laughing with her.
“The thrill was wondering if someone was gonna wander in on us,” I admit.
Her jaw drops, then she squeals, smacking my arm. “You did it in public, too?! You kinky bitch.”
“Semi-public,” I correct quickly, giggling with her. “It was during the overnight shift at the station. There weren’t a lot of people in at that time.”
Before Marlena can tease me further, the sound of my name cuts through the air.
“Miss Carson.”
I glance up, startled, and find Professor Henley standing only a few feet away.
He moves toward us with that same deliberate stride I’ve come to expect from him—measured, controlled, as though every step has already been mapped out.
His expression is calm, composed, but his eyes… his eyes are too intent.
He stops directly in front of us, and his gaze finds mine first. It lingers, steady and unblinking, and I shift uncomfortably on the bench.
“I wanted to offer my condolences,” he says, his voice even, smooth, carefully pitched to sound sincere.
“I know Khloe was your friend, and I’m deeply sorry for your loss.
” His attention flicks briefly to Marlena, acknowledging her presence, before returning to me with the same unwavering focus.
“And Liam, Bailey… such senseless tragedies. I’m glad to see you back in class, despite everything. ”
Beside me, Marlena stiffens, her fingers brushing my arm like she’s anchoring me to the bench.
“Um… thank you, Professor,” I murmur. My voice feels caught in my throat, paper-thin. He inclines his head, but he doesn’t step away right away. His gaze lingers, weighted, as if there’s more he wants to say but won’t.
Marlena squeezes my hand once more, the unease lingering between us as Henley walks away.
The library doors swing shut behind Tessa and me, and for the first time all day, the air feels bearable.
It’s cooler now, quiet in that late hour way that makes every sound carry.
We stayed way later than we planned—one hour of studying turned into three, most of which had nothing to do with studying and instead was spent talking to get our minds off the chaos that has erupted in our lives (or more specifically mine).
Anything to stop thinking about everything that’s been happening lately—the deaths, the tension, the big possibility that a serial killer is hunting me.
I hitch my book bag higher and scan the courtyard.
The broad lawn is mostly empty. Lamps cast pale circles across the brick paths, and the buildings sit dark except for a few classroom windows still lit.
A patrol car idles near the edge of the quad, lights off, engine a low hum.
The police presence has thinned now that the campus has emptied for the most part.
Almost everyone has either left for their off-campus homes or returned to their dorms for the night, thanks to the new curfew the university set, because they’re convinced it will help.
A curfew will solve jack shit.
An officer stands near the library steps.
I tip my chin; he sweeps the trees and the walkway, not us, and gives a distracted nod.
Tessa falls in beside me, and we cut across the brick toward the student union.
My boots scuff the brick, and Tessa’s sneakers whisper beside me.
A couple of stragglers cut across the far side of the lawn with heads down, bags slung tight.
The university banners hanging from the light poles snap once in a weak gust and then go still again.
“What do you want to pick up for dinner?” Tessa asks as we pass the alumni plaza and the shuttered food court.
“I don’t know, Mexican maybe? If the birria place is open, maybe we can get that,” I reply with a shrug.
“I’m pretty sure they are. I’ll call and place an order for pick up,” she says as she digs her phone out of her purse.
I nod, but my focus has drifted. The hairs at my nape prickle, and I slow without meaning to. Every few paces, I look back. The walkways behind us are empty—just the line of trees, the benches, the soft wash of light from windows where the lights were left on. No footsteps. No voices.
Still, the feeling clings.
I stop at the corner where the Greek houses start, the big porches and columns gone quiet for the night.
I scan the sidewalk, the hedges, the shadowed gaps between buildings.
Besides the cruiser creeping down the road with its lights flashing, I see no one.
And that’s what bothers me. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s not like whoever might be following me would make themselves known.
Although now would be their chance.
If this fucker could take down two people in the middle of downtown without anyone knowing, I’m sure Tessa and I are no issue. But somehow I don’t think I’m on the menu tonight.
“Rae?” Tessa’s voice pulls me back. I blink and turn to face her. She’s already a few steps ahead, frowning back at me. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Just thought I saw… something. Probably nothing.”
She studies me like she doesn’t quite buy it, then glances back at her phone. “Okay, well, I called the restaurant. I guess they are closing soon, so they couldn’t get an order in for us.”
“Damn.” I blow out a slow breath. “Well, we can do Chipotle if you’re good with that.”
“Chipotle sounds delicious.” Tessa smiles. I try to match it despite the continued uneasiness I’m feeling.
We angle toward the underpass. The road above hums with steady traffic, and the tunnel drops in front of us, long and low—the lights along the ceiling stutter in a few places.
I sigh and grip the straps of my bag tightly as we walk through the underpass.
Our steps echo off the concrete. A car crosses above, and the sound rolls through the passage like a wave.
I keep glancing at the openings at either end, counting breaths, counting seconds.
We pop out the far side and jog to the crosswalk. The Highland Avenue structure rises in tiers of concrete, open railings along each level, stairs spiral upwards at the corners, and elevators in glass shafts on both ends. The ground floor is mostly empty now, save for a few cars.
I jab the call button and rock on my heels as we wait.
Tessa is still going on about something, but it’s all noise.
My focus is tuned in to everything else around me: the crickets, the sounds of cars rolling past, sirens wailing in the distance.
I’m still uneasy and can still feel the sensation that someone is watching me.
After what feels like a damn lifetime, the elevator dings and the metal doors slide apart.
We step in. The panel light for “3” gives a tired glow when I press it.
The car hums and lurches when it starts its ascent.
My reflection stares back at me in the warped stainless steel wall—eyes too wide, mouth a hard line. I blink and force my shoulders down.
When the doors part on the third floor, the level is almost bare—just a few scattered cars, the concrete lanes yawning between them. Night presses in from the open sides. I step out and drift toward the waist-high wall, that same bad feeling tugging me forward like a hook in my ribs.
“Keys,” Tessa says behind me. “Where’d you—Rae?”
“Hang on.”
I plant my palms on the rough concrete and lean over, peering down to the ground floor. The area around the entrance isn’t well lit, but it’s enough that I can still make out that someone is down there.
He stands just beyond the mouth of the garage, centered in the gap. All black. Face hidden behind a white mask that erases everything human.
He’s already looking up at me.
Waiting.
My stomach drops. For a second, I can’t pull air.
His hand lifts, metal glinting in the light as he gives me a slow, almost friendly wave. It’s then that I catch what he’s waving. The metal takes shape as the light whispers over it. He’s waving a knife, taunting me.
“Tessa!” I call, turning towards her. She stops a few feet ahead, her face contorting into confusion.
She’s a few steps ahead and whirls around, confused. “What are you—”
“Someone was following me,” I choke out.
“What do you mean someone was following you?”
“Look for yourself,” I say, pointing down below.
She comes to the wall, frowns, and leans over with me. “There’s no one there, babe.”
I blink and snap my head back. The space below is empty. No mask. No figure. No knife.
“The fuck do you mean there’s no one there?” I mutter, looking below again. “I swear to God he was just there.”
“What did you see?” she asks, her tone soft.
“Someone in black clothes and a white mask. He was just standing there, looking up at me, and then he waved his knife at me.” I scan below, looking at every corner I can see.
I shift my gaze towards the stairs, run over to them, and peer over the railing.
Nothing. “I know he was there. I’m not crazy. ”
Tessa checks again, slower, eyes working corner to corner. “I believe you saw what you did,” she says, when I rejoin her side. “He’s probably hiding somewhere you can’t see.” I nod as I peer over the wall again. “You should definitely tell Emilio. He’ll want to know.”
“I will.” I peel away from the wall, every nerve burning. The empty space where he’d been feels worse than if he were still there. At least then I’d know where he was.
Tessa hooks her arm in mine, and we move quickly towards my Kia.
I shove my hand into my purse and yank it out, metal clicking against each other as my hands fumble with the fob.
The lock chirp echoes too loudly off the concrete.
I hand the key to Tessa, and we slide in fast, doors slamming.
I thumb the lock button twice and keep my eyes on the open side of the level.
Nothing moves. Tessa’s hands are tight on the wheel even before the engine turns over.
Tessa pulls toward the exit, checking mirrors, checking again. I stare out over the edge until the sightline breaks and the ground level drops out of view. Only then do I let a breath fall out of me.