Chapter 8 Adela
Maeve won't let it go the following morning.
"You want answers, right?" Her voice has that edge of desperation that mirrors my own.
"Don't you have an exam?" I ask.
She waves it off. "This is more important."
"Maeve." I put her on speaker phone. "I'm asking my dad if I can live in the dorms. When I do, I'll have time to watch the house myself. I will figure out who lives there. Maybe even talk to them."
Silence.
She scoffs, “So you’re doing it alone?”
The pit in my stomach widens. “You don’t have to make the drive. I bet we’re not going to find anything during one stakeout.”
"Fine." The word is sharp as a slap. “I’m going to get off the phone so that I can study for my exam.”
Guilt and relief arrive at the same time as she ends the call.
I stand outside my father's office for a full minute before I knock.
"Come in."
I sit in the leather chair across from his desk. He doesn't look up from his screen. "What is it?"
"I want to live in the dorms at UW."
That gets him. His eyes snap to mine. "Even with Cody's condition?"
"Especially because of it. We live far from campus, Dad. The commute is a risk in itself. The dorms are secure. I already had a tour."
He leans back, fingers steepled. "When I agreed to this transfer, I assumed Cody would be there with you."
"We can't reverse it. It's done."
"I could make a call to admissions—"
"Please don't." The pleading in my voice is real. "The doctors say he'll wake soon. I need to be closer. I want to live there."
He studies me. "You've never wanted anything that required earning."
The observation lands. I hold his gaze and don't flinch. "Then let me start now."
He's quiet for a long moment. "You'll need a job. A curfew. No parties."
"Done."
"Even the job?"
"Yes."
He shakes his head slowly, like he's revising something. "Fine. Start packing. I'll make the call and pull the strings."
“Thank you.”
I leave his office feeling like someone lifted a weight off my chest.
I call Penelope instead of Maeve.
"My dad's getting me into the dorms at UW," I tell her. "I can be closer to campus. Closer to Cody."
She pauses. "We're never going to see you," she says.
"I know." I push open my bedroom door. "It's the right move, though."
I reach for the pink Swarovski pendant at my throat out of habit — my anchor since Cody went under.
My fingers meet bare skin.
Ice floods through me. "Oh, my god."
"What's wrong?" Penelope's voice sharpens.
"My necklace." I'm already moving to the mirror, hands searching my collarbone, my neck, my shoulders. Nothing. "The pendant Cody gave me. It's gone."
"I'm sure it'll turn—"
"I never take it off, Pen." I tear the sheets from my mattress, throw the pillows, check the nightstand, the floor, and the space between the frame and the wall. "It's not here."
"Adela—"
"I have to go."
I end the call and sink to the floor.
Cody isn't waking up. Someone sent me threats. There's a man in a mask on his laptop. And now the one tangible piece of him I had left is gone.
I press my palms to my eyes and let the sobs come.
When I finally lift my head, my reflection stares back — red eyes, mascara tracks, blotchy cheeks. But underneath the wreckage, I feel something else.
I'm moving into those dorms. And I'm going to find out what happened to him.
Whoever did this isn't done.
My mom appears in the doorway an hour later, takes one look at me, and crosses the room.
"The pendant Cody gave me is missing," I tell her before she can ask.
She doesn’t say anything, just searches. She checks the blankets, mattress, behind the nightstand, and under the bedframe. Every place I've already checked. Each time she comes up empty, the tears threaten again.
Finally, she straightens, defeat written across her face. "Your father got you into Elm Hall. You can move whenever you're ready."
I glance at the empty suitcase already in my closet. "I'll be ready soon."
She blinks. "You're going today?"
"I want to stop at the hospital first to see Cody."
She offers to help me move. I tell her I don't need it. She gives me that long, unreadable look she's been giving me for days, and then she drops it.
I don’t pack anything crazy, just my essentials. It only takes an hour.
The hospital visit is brief.
He's still. So still. Tubes, monitors, the mechanical rhythm of machines doing the work his body can't.
I pull a chair close and fold my hand around his. "I'm here," I say quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."
I watch his chest rise and fall, willing something — a finger twitch, an eyelid flutter, anything — to cross the distance between us.
Nothing.
"Tell me who did this," I whisper. "Tell me, and I'll handle the rest."
He doesn't answer.
I kiss his cheek, put the chair back, and make myself walk out.
In the parking lot, I pull his laptop from under my seat.
The metal is cold in my hands. I've been afraid to open it since the camera dot.
Since the texts. But I'm running out of options — the police have done nothing, Judge Ravenshaw is absorbed in managing the public narrative, and I'm the only one left who actually needs to know the truth.
I open it. Enter the password. The same bare desktop stares back at me. One folder. Locked.
I try it three times before I give up and call Julian.
"Do you know anyone who can recover files from a locked laptop?"
He sucks in a breath. "That's rough. Everything's encrypted now. It's not like the old days."
"I know, but it's Cody's. It's completely wiped except for one folder that won't open."
Silence.
"What if it's just his midterm paper in there?" He laughs.
I stare through the windshield. "Right. Never mind."
"Aw, Adela, don't—"
I hang up.
A shadow crosses my window.
I look up and yelp, slamming the laptop shut.
A tall figure stands at my driver's side door, looking down at me. Sharp blue eyes. His gaze drops to the laptop for half a second too long.
I crack the window with a racing heart. "Can I help you?"
He tilts his head. "You don't remember me?"
I look at him, and something in those eyes snags. "Oh. Is it Beckett?"
He nods.
Relief floods me. He’s Cody’s teammate. "Are you here to see Cody?"
"Is he still here?"
"Yes." I roll the window down further.
He holds up his left hand. "Broke a finger at practice."
"Oh." A beat. "Are you okay?"
"Are you?" His gaze moves over my face without flinching.
I look away. "I’m fine."
He doesn't push, which somehow makes it worse. I set the laptop on the passenger seat and make a decision before I can talk myself out of it.
"That night," I say. "At your house—"
"My house?" He shakes his head. "That wasn't my house."
I file that away. "I was supposed to tell Cody something that night. That I was transferring to UW, it’s stupid, really. I'd planned it for months, and then––" I stop. "Where did he go after we left?"
Beckett leans one arm against the roof of my car, bending down to hold eye contact. "He walked out with you and never came back in. I figured he left with you."
"He didn't."
Something shifts in his expression, but it moves too fast to read. "Weird."
"Yeah."
He straightens. "I should get this looked at."
"Wait." The word leaves me before I decide to say it. He turns. I take a breath. "I just transferred. I don't know anyone here. And you know Cody, so maybe—" I stop. "Sorry. Never mind."
"Give me your phone,” he says, not skipping a beat.
I hesitate at first, and then I hand it over. He opens my texts, sends himself a message, and hands it back.
"Surprise," he says, and something in his tone makes my skin prickle in a way I can't name.
He walks toward the entrance without looking back.
I start the car with shaking hands.
At the second red light, it hits me fully. Cody didn't go back inside the house that night? He left when I did, got in his car, drove to campus, parked near the rink, and then—
What?
I slam my palms against the steering wheel, and the horn blares, and the car behind me honks, and I don't care at all.
Something happened between that parking lot and the hospital.
And it’s killing me not to know what it was.