People Like Us(37)

Morgan shifts in her chair, pulls a notebook from her pocket, and jots a few things down. “Let me get this straight. Dinner at five thirty, Nola’s at, say, six thirty, you signed out of her dorm at seven thirty-eight, and back into your dorm at ten forty-two, and then you studied until midnight.”

I try to swallow the lump rapidly forming in my throat, but my mouth is bone dry. She’s already checked the logs and confirmed my exact sign-in and sign-out times. “Sounds right.”

She scoots her chair a little closer to me, almost imperceptibly, but her face is still in the dark. “So you were running, alone, unaccounted for, between seven thirty-eight and ten forty-two. That’s a hell of a run. You’re a Class A athlete, Kay.”

“I do okay.”

“You look like you’re heading out for a run right now.”

“I run every day. I have to.”

She scoots closer again, the wooden claws of her chair scraping across the floor. “You have to. What happens if you stop?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone if they stop conditioning. Their body weakens. They lose strength, stamina, their heart and muscles suffer, they don’t perform to the best of their ability. They die sooner. Do you run every day?” I doubt Morgan has the discipline to even take a five-minute walk every day.

As if reading my mind, she yawns lazily. “No. I walk my dog, though. It clears my head. Beautiful scenery up here. Especially when the leaves turn. I guess you’ve heard about Dr. Klein’s cat.”

“I heard they found a cat.”

“I did. I found a girl trying to dispose of a body.”

“That’s horrible.” I’m strangely relieved that she only saw one of us.

“It is. It’s also unusual, for a number of reasons.” Again, she slides the chair forward, just an inch. Now I can see half of her body, up to her waist, but her face remains in the dark. “Typically, when a household pet is mutilated and killed, it isn’t buried. It’s left on display. The killer is proud of what they did and wants to savor the reaction of the pet’s owner.”

I am suddenly painfully aware of Dr. Klein hunched in the corner of the room. Although her face isn’t visible to me, and although I didn’t do anything to actually harm Hunter, I feel a stifling guilt that makes it difficult to breathe. I have a sudden incredible urge to look at her, to blurt out an apology, and my bones itch to jump out of my body and run, get me the hell out of the room before I say something that will ruin my life.

I shift my weight uncomfortably in the chair. I feel like I’m sinking into it, like it will be impossible to rise up out of it without an enormous amount of strength and maneuvering. “That’s weird.”

“The other thing is how much time has passed. For the killer to wait over a year to suppress the evidence is curious. Why now?”

I shrug slightly, just a tiny gesture.

“Well, there is the other body in the lake,” she continues, and she hitches her chair forward again. “Do you see what I’m seeing?” I can see her jutting chin, her sharp nose, but not her eyes. Everything about her is sharp, angles and corners. Maybe she’s not as stupid as she comes off. Every time she questions me, she starts the conversation like a kindergarten teacher and ends up giving me mental whiplash.

“Now, I’m thinking maybe the person who killed Jessica also killed Hunter. And when you put two and two together, it looks like the killer is a student at Bates. Possibly with a close group of friends willing to do some covering up. Lying to the police.” She finally makes that last nudge forward, and I see her beady eyes fixed on me. “Do you know what we found on Jessica’s bed after we secured the crime scene?”

I shake my head, jarred by the sudden change of subject.

“A phone, a photo, a message, no fingerprints. Nod if any of this sounds familiar.”

She’s speaking so quickly, analyzing every breath I take, every blink, every swallow, every minute eye movement. I’m afraid to breathe.

“A photo of her body floating in the lake, on her phone. And something else. Something of yours.” She waits, her eyes sharp and dangerous.

“Do I want to talk to a lawyer or something?” I whisper.

Her thin lips break into a grin. “I’m not questioning you, Kay. We’re just chatting. You’re a witness. If I really had something on you, we’d be down at the station. You’d be in custody, your parents would be here, an officer would’ve read you your rights, you’d have all the lawyers you want.” She pauses. “There’s still something that doesn’t make sense to me, Kay. You freely told me you had no alibi at the time Jessica was killed. Every single one of your friends contradicted that in their witness statements.”

I nod hesitantly.

“They said they were by your side the entire night. If you tell me the truth now, it makes it a lot easier to believe you going forward. Where were you when Jessica Lane was murdered?”

My mind races. The last time she asked me, I told her I was alone and it backfired. I can’t risk doing that again. Besides, Greg is the top suspect. I just have to follow Brie’s advice and lie low. “With my friends,” I finally say.

She looks down and sighs heavily, and then meets my eye coldly. “Lying to the police is a crime, Katie.”

“I’m not lying,” I whisper.