In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(29)

“Eric, you’re three years younger than us,” Coop said. “Knock it off.”

Eric laughed and practically ran up the porch steps, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

“This is creepy,” Courtney muttered.

“What do you think, Jess?” Frankie slung his heavy arm over my shoulders. “Want to go back to the old fratter?”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” I said. And with that, we stepped into the dark foyer after Eric.

“Almost there,” he called. We followed him to the farthest corner of the house, where a dingy door stood. He shouldered it open.

“The basement?” Mint asked, puzzled.

Courtney doubled back. “I don’t want to go down there.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Mint kissed her temple. “We’ll just pay our respects to Heather—”

“And Eric,” I mumbled. “Guy looks like the walking dead.”

“And Eric,” Mint repeated, smiling at me over Courtney’s head. “Then we’ll go right back to the party.”

I took a deep breath and went first, following Eric down the flight of stairs.

The Phi Delt basement. It was a legendary place. If the stories were true, this was where secret hazing rituals took place, the ones that had to happen in a windowless room, far from prying eyes. It was also where the inner circle came to drink and escape the masses dancing on the floor above. The number of hours I’d spent in here with Heather, Caro, Courtney, Frankie, and Jack were too many to count. The only person who’d never been allowed in was Coop.

“No way,” Coop said as our eyes adjusted to the dim light. The room was spare, only a set of sagging couches pushed up against one wall, an empty keg rolled on its side in the corner. “This isn’t the Phi Delt basement. This is a set from Law & Order SVU.”

“We’re all here,” Eric said. “Finally, after ten years.”

There was old graffiti covering the walls; one wall had a child-sized hole in it. The place really was a shithole. Why had it been so cool to drink here, the invitation so coveted?

“Eric, man, should we, uh, pay our respects?” Mint loosened his collar as he scanned the basement. Was he remembering all the hours we’d spent in here together, the corners we’d kissed in when no one was looking, or everyone was too drunk to care? Losing time, losing everything…

“Ten long years since the Class of 2009 graduated and moved on from Duquette. What in the world have you been up to?” Eric looked at us innocently, and my brain screamed trap. “Wait, don’t tell me. I already know. You got married, engaged, became professional athletes and business leaders and lawyers. You turned out so successful—everything everyone always expected from you.”

“Some of us became social media celebrities,” Courtney added, apparently not too scared to plug herself.

“You want to know what I’ve done for the last ten years? After the cops gave up on my sister’s case, and let the person who murdered her walk around with the rest of us, free and clear?”

A pall settled over the basement. Eric was like a train barreling full speed in our direction, and none of us could move.

“I’ve spent every day of the last ten years investigating my sister’s murder. Following leads the police didn’t have, rumors passed around by students, things no one realized were connected.” He looked at us, feverish. “The cops missed so much.”

“Eric, man, come on.” Frankie shifted from foot to foot. “We’re all really sorry about what happened to Heather, but isn’t it time to put it behind us? This isn’t healthy.”

“My sister,” Eric whispered, “was stabbed seventeen times when she was sleeping in bed. Who the fuck cares about healthy? I care about justice.”

We stood in shocked silence. I pushed back the panic, the guilt—the feeling I was on the precipice of something dark and evil, about to topple over.

“You want to know why I call this her real memorial site?” Eric asked. “Because it’s the last place Heather was seen alive. I like to come here and picture her happy. Oblivious to what was coming.”

I shivered. I hadn’t known she’d come here. It made sense, though. The night she was killed was the night of the Sweetheart Ball, and Heather, as Jack’s girlfriend, was in the running for Phi Delt Sweetheart…

Caro’s voice was small. “I thought the last time she was seen alive, witnesses saw her screaming at Jack in Bishop?”

Eric nodded. “Molly Duvall and Chris Holywell. Both witnessed Heather and Jack in what they described as a knock-down, drag-out fight in the lobby of Bishop Hall.” He spoke as if he’d memorized the police report. “At approximately 6:32 p.m. on the night of February 14th. But no, that wasn’t the last time she was seen alive. Who am I kidding? Plenty of you know the truth, that Heather was spotted later that night in the Phi Delt house—right here, in this very room. Pregaming the Sweetheart Ball with a group of brothers and one Ms. Courtney Kennedy.”

I turned to Courtney in surprise.

“Courtney Minter,” she corrected.

“Yeah, well, you were Kennedy back then. Witnesses report seeing Heather right here, but at some point before the party started, she left. No one saw her leave or knows why. The next morning, Jack found her body.”