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“FUCK… YOU,” is Gavin’s response. This is followed by a scuffling sound, and more smacking. When I hear Steve’s voice again, it’s out of breath.
“Well, I think you get the idea, anyway,” he says. “We’re having another party. And this time, you’re actually invited. And to make sure you show, we have your friend Gavin here. Unless you do exactly what I tell you, he’s going to suffer some bodily injury. And you wouldn’t want that, now, would you?”
I’m so horrified I can barely breathe. I say, “No.”
“I didn’t think so. So here’s the dealio. You come here. Alone. If you call the cops, he will get hurt. If you don’t show, he—”
“HEATHER, DON’T—” I hear Gavin start to bellow, but his voice is quickly smothered.
“—could get very, very hurt,” Steve finishes. “Got it?”
“I got it,” I say. “I’ll be there. But where’s here? The Tau Phi House?”
“Please,” Steve says, sounding bored. “We’re here, Heather. I think you know where.”
“Fischer Hall,” I say, my gaze going toward my living room windows, which look out at the back of the twenty-story building that is my place of work. It’s still early, by New York College residence hall standards, which means that most of the lights in the windows are blazing as the building’s occupants prepare to go out, apparently completely unaware that down on the first floor, in the closed and locked cafeteria, something unspeakable is about to take place.
Which is when I stop feeling cold, and start feeling angry. How dare they? Seriously. How dare they think they can get away with this again? Do they really believe I’m going to sit idly back and let them turn Fischer Hall into Death Dorm?
And okay, maybe it already is Death Dorm. But I’m not going to let it stay that way.
“Heather?” Steve’s voice is warm in my ear. It’s amazing how charming psychopathic killers can be, when they put their minds to it. “Are you still there?”
“Oh, I’m here,” I tell him. “And I’ll be right over.”
“Good,” Steve says, sounding pleased. “We’ll be looking forward to seeing you. Alone, like I said.”
“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I’ll be alone.” Like I need any help kicking his ski
But then again, he, like his brother, doesn’t strike me as the sharpest knife in the drawer.
“Good,” Steve says. “And remember. No cops. Or your boyfriend’s a dead man.”
I hear a thump, and then a scream. The scream comes from Gavin.
And I know that, stupid though he might be, Steve Winer isn’t someone to underestimate.
I slam down the receiver and spin around to see my dad sitting up, blinking groggily.
“Heather?” he says. “What’s the matter?”
“Something’s going down at the dorm,” I say, grabbing a piece of paper and writing a number on it. “I mean, residence hall. Something bad. I need you to call this person and tell him he needs to get over there as fast as possible. Tell him I’ll meet him in the café. Tell him to bring backup.”
Dad squints down at the number. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Fischer Hall,” I say, grabbing my coat. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Dad looks confused. “I don’t like this, Heather,” he says. “They don’t pay you enough for you to be hurrying over there in the dead of night like this.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, and I’m out the door.
The walk to Fischer Hall has never seemed so long. Even though I’m half ru
I’m so intent on getting where I’m going that I don’t even see Reggie until I crash into him.
“Whoa, little lady,” he cries, as we collide. “Where would you be off to in such a hurry so late at night?”
“Geez, Reggie,” I say, struggling to catch my breath. “Don’t you ever go home?”
“Fridays are my best nights,” Reggie says. “Heather, what’s the matter? You’re white as—well, a white girl.”
“It’s those guys,” I pant. “The ones I told you about. They have one of my residents. In the café. They’re going to hurt him if I don’t get there, fast—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Reggie has hold of both my arms and doesn’t seem eager to let go. “Are you serious? Heather, don’t you think you should call the police?”
“I did!” I have to windmill both my arms before I manage to break free of his grip. “My dad’s calling them. But someone has to get in there in the meantime—”
“Why does that someone have to be you?” Reggie wants to know.
But it’s too late. I’m already off and ru
When I throw open the door to Fischer Hall, the mystery of how Doug and his fellow frat brothers—not to mention his real brother—got into the building to kill Lindsay without actually being signed in is cleared up the minute I walk through the door and see the security guard.
“You!” I cry. It’s the crusty old guard from the security desk in Waverly Hall.
“ID,” he says.He doesn’t even recognize me.
“You were at Waverly Hall last night,” I pant, pointing at him accusingly.
“Yeah,” Crusty Old Guard says, with a shrug. “That’s my regular spot. I fill in other places when there’s an opening. Like here, tonight. I need to see your ID before I can let you in.”
I’m flipping open my wallet to show him my staff identification. “I’m the assistant director of this building,” I say to him. “I know you let a bunch of Tau Phis in here tonight without making them sign in. Just like you did Monday night, when they killed someone.”
Crusty Old Guard—his name tag says Curtiss—grunts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says grumpily.
“Yeah,” I say. “Well, you’ll find out in a minute, believe me. In the meantime, I want you to phone up to the building director and tell him to head to the café. And when the cops show up, send them there, too.”
“Cops?” Crusty Curtiss looks startled. “What—”
But I’m already ru
I don’t head for the main doors to the café, though. I’m not about to go walking blindly into their trap—lame as it might be. Instead, I dash down the hall, past my office, then the student government’s office—closed and locked, as always—and finally past the dining manager’s office, to the back entrance to the kitchen. The door, as I’d known it would be, is locked.
But I have my master key. I slip it from my pocket and—cradling a can of pepper spray in my free hand—unlock the door as quietly as I can and let myself into the kitchen.
It’s dark. As I’d expected, they’re in the dining hall itself. They don’t have anyone stationed in the kitchen. They haven’t even bothered turning the lights on in here. Amateurs.
I creep along the galley, straining my ears. I can hear the murmur of male voices out in the dining area. There’s a light on there, as well… but not the lights in the chandeliers. They haven’t turned on the overheads. Instead, they’ve got some kind of flickering lamp on… flashlights?
Or flames?
If they’re burning candles in there, they are in so much trouble. Burning candles isn’t allowed in any of the residence halls.
I’m not really sure what my plan is. I figure I’ll creep as close as I can behind the service counters, then peer out over them to see what the boys are up to. Then I’ll creep back and report what I’ve seen to Detective Canavan when he arrives with backup. That way they’ll have a good idea how many people they’re dealing with.