Page 68 of Massacre Monday

It took her all night to get back to her room, and she didn’t sleep at all. Understandable, as I haven’t either. Waiting for her took up all eight hours since we’ve been apart.

The little blue blip on my screen from her phone’s tracker located her in the woods, but cops had surrounded the place by the time I arrived. Stealthily shifting between the rugged trunks, I monitored their work over Pippi’s old roommate and the sacrificial circle painted on the ground.

Everything in me wanted to go to her, but her twin brother showed up, keeping her at his side. Not wanting the murderous suspicion that would come with exposing myself, I kept to the shadows until Oz escorted her from the scene back toward Sorority Row.

Every skin cell I have itches, my body hot and immediately tense now that I can’t see her. The ridge of the mattress digs into the backs of my thighs as I sit up and run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends with frustration. Pain only helps a little, pulling me back to my grim reality.

I could go over there, demand she open the door. Bust it down. Throw her over my shoulder and take her toTheta’sbasement. Tie her up. Give her no choice. Her father even gave me permission to do that.

But the fire behind those bourbon eyes would die.

My chest aches with worry, fingers inadvertently rubbing the spot above my heart as I shuffle toward the window and look out upon the dawn. A crimson glow casts over the eastern sky with the sunrise, creating a bloody atmosphere.

Now would be the perfect time for thatBetaMitch to come and try something. I have a fewThetamembers looking for him, but so far…no luck. When I find him, though, the bitch will get what’s coming to him for touching my girl.

My phone chimes with my father’s ring tone.Not now…

“Yeah?” My voice is rough from staying up all night.

“The news just broke.” His voice is calm. “Senator Frances—dead of a heart condition. And his wife? Found overdosed in the civic center coatroom. A tragic double blow to the community.”

I don’t respond as the silence thickens between us like fog.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

“Pippi and I left the event early,” I say, keeping my tone flat. “Didn’t see anything.”

He takes a deep breath in. “And Pippi is the name of the woman…”

“Who I earned.”

He warms for a moment, emotion filtering through the phone. “She must be worth it, then. Ryan, if you need me, I’m here. You’re an incredible son and an amazing brother to your siblings. I love you.”

My throat locks until I clear it roughly. His words finally mean something to me. Maybe my dad couldn’t get out of his own assignments and needed me more than I realized. “Love you, too.”

As soon as I toss the phone aside, my hands are back to digging through my hair. How do I get Pen to come toRed Night? Like, of herownaccord. If she did, I could implement a plan and get her back.

An idea carves itself into my mind.

Sometimes being a genius is a wonderful thing, and other times, it makes for the loneliest feeling in the world.

Despite the haze from lack of sleep, I start a pot of coffee and get to work. Within a few hours, I’ve missed my classes, sure, but most importantly, I can see through Pippi’s laptop camera and have remote access to everything. All it took was a little help from Josh in the IT department at Cardell Enterprises.

The edge of what may be her foot is just visible on the right of the screen, kicked out from under her blue fuzzy blanket. She’s not moving, so she must be sleeping soundly.

There’s plenty of time to catch up on her emails and submit a paper I finish for her sophomore English class. It had good bones, just needed the ending, and she can’t miss the deadline.

While searching through her logs and university grades, my brow furrows at her latest quiz score in Criminology. A zero? That’s unlikely… She hasn’t missed a lecture that I’ve noticed. Pippi is normally a good student.

Professor Amanda Hall. Who is this? And why do I feel the need to have a discussion with her…

A brief search online doesn’t show much of anything useful. The results are buried by a different Professor Hall who was at NU way back in the day while my parents were attending. He taught photography, which was my mother’s major. Apparently, he committed suicide in his own home after his divorce. Details are minimal.

Amanda Hall didn’t go to NU for undergrad, but was living in another city for most of her life. No social media. No relationships I can find. Address is one of the nicer apartments downtown. Some of that’s suspicious, but if I were a teacher here, I’d want to be anonymous, too.

By noon, my brain has rotted from information and staying awake for so many hours. But I press toward campus, sending a text to a friend.

Me