Page 8 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

This is kind? I bite my tongue to keep from saying something I’ll regret and run to my room.

I’m out of breath as I slip inside. With my back pressed to the wood, I’m relieved to find Margaux sitting on the bed. She watches me with wide eyes, her phone cradled between her shoulder and ear.

“Oh, my God,” she mutters. “I found them.” Without saying goodbye, she taps the screen, setting her phone down on the bed.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“My father!” Her voice comes out in a high shriek. “More importantly, where were you? My father called—there was another murder—and I’ve been worried sick! I had him asking the others where you went, but of course… no one knows who you are! Must you be so forgettable?”

An uncomfortable warmth blossoms in my chest.

Margaux has always been protective, and it’s what I need after the night I’ve had. God, I’m weak. I want to cry to her, to break down and tell her everything that’s happened. Not just tonight but everything on Roslyn Street and every quiet moment of tears in my bedroom.

The words are stuck in my throat. I clench my fists, holding myself together.

“I saw the body,” I say. “That’s where I was. A professor escorted us back—I don’t know her name?—”

“Sexton,” she says. “Professor Sexton. I saw her in the lobby; she wouldn’t let me leave to find you.”

“Right,” I say. “Her. Either way, I was safe.”

I think.

“You’re never safe at Strode. You need to leave.” Margaux’s posture collapses, a rarity for someone who walks with a spine of steel. She rubs her temples and a slow sigh leaves her lips.

“It’s too late for that.” I sit on the edge of her bed. Being close to Margaux used to come naturally, but now I’m tentative, perched delicately on her crimson comforter. “I’m here. I need your help because… I think I found something.”

Her head jerks up. “What?”

I reach into my bag and place the pocket watch on the bed between us. “This was near the body.”

“Tobey!” She gasps. “You should give this to the investigators. What are we going to do with it? God, I don’t even know if I remember how to tell time with the hands. This is practically vintage.”

“What will they do with it?” I snatch it back, worried Margaux will run off with it. “They’re going to find something to blame the murder on, and… they won’t do anything. They never do.”

“I know, but what are you supposed to do?” She frowns. “You’re a human.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I hiss. “I will do anything to catch the killer. Are you going to help me or not?”

She rolls her eyes. “Will I help you find Poppy’s killer? Is that even a question?”

“Yes, it is.” I hold the watch close to my chest. “I don’t know if I can trust you, but—God, I can’t trust anyone here.”

After everything we’ve been through, even the lies, I still trust Margaux more than I can trust anyone in this school. I won’t give her the treat of admitting it.

“You think I’m the killer?” She deflates.

I expect outrage at the question, but it never comes. She looks pained and exhausted instead, her eyes closing as a heavy sigh escapes her crimson lips.

“No!” I furrow my brows. “That’s not what I mean, but I don’t know if you want to get involved with this.”

Is she more loyal to Poppy or her school?

“I’ll help,” she says. “Whatever you need. If it keeps you alive, I’ll do it. I can’t—” Her voice breaks, eyes rolling to the ceiling as she fights off tears. The whites of her eyes turn pink. It’s a rare moment of weakness. “I can’t lose both of you.”

“I know.”

It’s too late; we’ve already lost each other. We’ve lost so much time we were supposed to spend together, and there is no way to get it back. Our friendship can’t return to normal when a part of us is gone forever, but we can do this together. That will make it right.

“Tell me about the watch.” She scoots closer.

I reveal the pocket watch again, dangling it in the air between us. “Do you know Caldwell?”

She shakes her head.

“He’s a new student as well. A vampire.” Still a guess, but I’m more certain than ever. Who cares about death when they have a chance at immortality?

“Huh. Haven’t heard of him.”

“He saw me pick this up and claimed it was his… but it was near the body. Like, so close I can’t believe someone else didn’t pick it up… and…” I flip the watch so she can see the initials on the back. “B.C. The C must stand for Caldwell.”

She frowns. “It might stand for Caldwell, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s the murderer…”

“I’m not saying that, but it’s suspicious —and it’s our only lead. We have to follow it until we find something better.”

“Fine,” she says. “But before we do anything crazy, you need to find proof that he’s involved. ”

Somehow, I don’t think it will be difficult. Caldwell is strange and mysterious, and yet—he has been open with me. Stealing time with him won’t be hard, nor will questioning him. I can’t explain why my face grows warm at the thought and sends a thrill up my spine.

I suppose I harbor curiosity about the strange vampire.

My brows furrowed in determination, and I stare at the watch in my hands.

“Fine,” I say. “I will.”