Marjorie was running down a hallway. She quickly glanced over her shoulder and saw that they were gaining on her. She put her head down and tried to pick up speed even though her lungs were burning. Legs screaming, she saw Stephen exit the hallway through the double doors up ahead. If she could just reach him, she knew she’d be safe. She could hear their footsteps getting closer. How were they so fast? The hallway seemed to grow in length as she pushed herself to reach the doors. Just as she pushed the door open, it disappeared. Someone shoved her from behind and she was falling, falling…she screamed—
“Marjorie! Marjorie! Wake up. It’s okay. It’s just a dream.” Tiff was next to her, gently shaking her shoulder.
Marjorie rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. The dream had seemed so real. Stephen had seemed so real. She looked up at Tiff, who had a towel wrapped around her head. She was wearing a bathrobe and her feet were bare. “What time is it?”
“It’s only 7:30. I had just gotten out of the shower when I heard you screaming. You really scared me at first. I’m glad it was just a dream. Are you okay now?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a bad dream.” She touched her head, trying to calm herself. Her heart was still racing as though she had actually been running. “Is it Sunday?”
“Yes, Sunday morning. My co-worker asked if I could open the ice cream shop for her today at nine. I’m not on shift until the evening though. I can tell her no if you need me to stay.”
“No, don’t turn that down for me. I’m picking Stephen’s parents up for brunch later. They were upset yesterday because the ME wouldn’t release his body to them yet. They just want to go home, you know? I feel so bad for them.”
“Why won’t they release his body?”
“I’m not totally sure. Shirley and Cort said something about a complication.” She yawned and shrugged. “I think they were going to call over there again today. It will work out.”
Tiffany nodded. “I’m planning on leading my study group this afternoon at the library still. I’ll have my phone with me. If you need anything, you know how to reach me.”
“Thank you, but really, I’m fine. I’m coping. Helping Stephen’s parents is helping me get through this. It’s good. I’m good.” She bobbed her head up and down, trying to convince herself as much as Tiff.
“Okay, but don’t feel like you need to soldier on. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes.” Tiff smiled. “I’m going to go finish getting ready. I’ll probably grab lunch at the student center before my group starts.”
She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Marjorie sighed. Maybe she should find someone to talk to about Stephen or about her dream. She shuddered, remembering the faces of the people chasing her. Each of them angry and shouting her name as they raced after her. Eight faces. Seven of which she had only seen once before.
* * * * * * * * * *
Cari got up early to run a few miles before sitting down to organize her notes again. As she was running, she heard her mom’s voice in the back of her mind, Are you going to church today, sweetie? Cari lowered her eyes. She had kind of let her church attendance slide since Christmas, well maybe it was Easter last year. It seemed like she was always chasing a new story and finding an excuse not to be there. It’s not that it wasn’t important to her; she was just really career driven and needed to prove herself. That meant going the extra mile sometimes and making some personal sacrifices. Once things settled down, she would start up the habit again.
As she pounded down the trail near her apartment, she mentally went through her checklist for the day. She needed to call Bob again and see if he had an update for her. She needed to talk to Marjorie but didn’t know how to approach her. She didn’t know where she lived or how to find her. I just need to be gently persuasive. She’ll come around.
She wanted to look into Hartfeld some more. He had really rubbed her the wrong way. One moment he seemed like an eccentric, absent-minded-professor. The next, he was angry and accusatory, even threatening in his tone. He was hiding something behind that anger, but what?
Cari finished her five-mile loop and climbed the steps up to her apartment. She had left her phone on do not disturb while she was running to help herself stay focused. She fished her phone out of her running belt with one hand and her apartment key with the other. She had a missed call and two texts from her mom. She sighed as she unlocked her door. Making her mother wait never made the conversation easier, but she also wanted to talk to Bob. She texted him asking if he felt like coffee—her treat! She refilled her water bottle and then sat down to call her mom back. Putting the phone on speaker, she opened her messaging app in case Bob wrote back quickly.
“Cari!” Her mom’s voice rang through the small apartment. “Good morning, sunshine! I hope I didn’t wake you up with my call.”
Cari rolled her eyes, knowing that her mom hoped the exact opposite. “No, you didn’t. I was out running.”
“Now, Cari. Did you run with a group? Did you at least bring the mace we got you for Christmas?”
“Mom. I’m almost thirty years old. I’m careful. Please don’t worry.”
“When you have children of your own, you’ll understand how futile it is to tell a mother not to worry.” She paused. Here it comes, Cari thought, she’s going to ask about church.
“How is your friend, um, what’s his name? Um, Bob? What is he up to?”
Cari should have known she would go this route first. “Bob seems fine. I talked to him yesterday morning, in fact.”
“Oh, how nice. He always seemed like such a nice young man. How opportune it was that you both got jobs in the same city! Like fate, huh?”
Cari groaned. “Mom, I’ve told you. Bob is just a friend.”
“Well, I’m just saying. You have to be friends first, you know. Doesn’t he go to your church too?”
And there it was. The real reason she had called. “I see him at church sometimes too, Mom.”
“Maybe you’ll see him there this morning! You are going this morning?” It sounded like more of a declaration than a question.
“Mom, I—”
“Cari! You haven’t been in weeks. This isn’t like you.”
“Mom, I don’t want to argue about it. I will make it a priority next week, okay? I promise. I really have to go. I love you.” She ended the call before her mom could protest again.
Thankfully, Bob had time for coffee and suggested that they meet at nine at the shop down the street from her place. She realized that she didn’t actually know where Bob lived even though they had both been in the city for a few years. She shrugged. Bob was a pretty private person. If he wanted me to know where he lived, then I’d know.
She finished her water while she threw together a fruit smoothie for breakfast. She’d grab a bagel at the coffee shop later. She had just enough time to jump in the shower before meeting Bob.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dr. Hartfeld rummaged around his kitchen for something to eat. He had run out of cereal again and forgotten to buy more. He wasn’t a coffee drinker; it made him too jittery. He looked in his pantry again for something that could pass for breakfast. He really needed to go to the grocery store more regularly. Reaching to the back of the top shelf, his fingers curled around a plastic wrapper of some sort. Please don’t be moldy, please don’t be moldy. He pulled the package down and discovered a sleeve of peanut butter crackers. These never go bad. He smiled and tore into the package. He made a mental note to stop by the store on his way home from the lab.
Sitting down at his table, his phone chirped that he had received a text message. He unlocked it and opened his messaging app. The message was from an unknown sender. Whoever sent it had somehow hidden their number too.
I know what you did
A chill ran up his spine.
Who is this? He responded.
Someone who can help you if you help me
What was this person talking about? He didn’t need any help. Help with what?
What are you talking about?
We both know what I’m talking about. Give me what you know I want and no one else has to know.
Go to hell. You don’t know anything.
Hartfeld threw his phone at the sofa across the room from him. Who would threaten him? What did they think they knew? The phone hit the sofa and immediately started ringing. He glared at it and refused to answer. Now this person was calling him?! I don’t think so, Jack. He let it go to voice mail and went back to eating his crackers. He had barely finished one when the phone rang again. Growling, he got up to see who it was.
The screen was flashing with an actual phone number instead of Unknown number like the messages had shown. It was a local number, but he still didn’t answer it. The phone beeped, indicating that he had received a voice mail. He started to pull it up when the phone started ringing again. It was the same number. He was really tempted to answer it, but also afraid of who might be on the line. He silenced the call and went back to the voice mail.
Dr. Hartfeld. It’s Detective Runimoss. We came across a few things during our investigation yesterday that we wanted to ask you about. Please give me a call back when you get this.
He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped through the various pockets for the female detective’s card. He would rather talk to her than the man-giant that was her partner. Where had he put that? He patted his hands on the front of his pants to see if he’d stuck it in there, but the pockets were empty. Oh well. If they really want to talk to me, they will just have to find me.
* * * * * * * * * *
Genevieve pulled up to the station to meet Alex. She hadn’t heard from him yet, but maybe he was still making arrangements to meet Hartfeld. She debated about waiting outside for him to join her or going inside. Someone had probably already made coffee inside and even though it would be terrible, it was still better than no coffee, which was her current alternative. She pocketed her keys after locking the car and walked inside to find Alex.
After pouring herself a cup from the station’s Mr. Coffee maker, she walked back to her and Alex’s desks. He looked grumpy already, which was not a good sign. He waved her over.
“Hartfeld didn’t answer when I called. I left him a voicemail, but he hasn’t called back.”
“Maybe he was talking to somebody else and just hasn’t gotten back to you yet.”
“I called three times.”
“Okay, so he knows we really want to talk to him. Do you want to just go pick him up? I thought you didn’t think we had enough on him to bring him in.”
Alex groaned. “We don’t. Let’s call CSU and see if they can find anything else for us. I know the vic’s car was a dead end—they only found his prints in it, but maybe there’s something else on his phone.”
Genevieve picked up her desk phone and pressed the extension for CSU.
“CSU, Chris speaking.”
“Hey, Chris, it’s Detective Viacorte. I’m calling about the Delamont case. The vic’s phone, can you look through it again?”
“What am I looking for exactly?”
“I’m not really sure. Is there a way to find deleted files or something? We’ve kind of hit a brick wall in the investigation and we need to stir up some new leads.”
“I’ll search the cache and see if there’s anything hiding on the SIM card. That messaging app might have a web version too. If so, sometimes we can pull up a history that isn’t available on the mobile version. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Chris. I appreciate it.”
She put the receiver back in the cradle and turned to Alex. “They’re going to check into a few things, see what shakes out.”
“We’re operating under the impression that he was meeting someone at his office yesterday morning. Whoever he met was most likely the last person to see him alive and also most likely our killer. There has to be a record of the meeting, right?”
“It seems logical, but having never used that app, I can’t say for sure. Maybe it’s like Snapchat where it deletes the message immediately after it’s seen.”
“That seems like a stupid feature.” He rolled his eyes.
“Well, while we wait to hear back from CSU, why don’t we go over our notes again. Maybe we missed something.”
“Maybe Hartfeld will call back. Maybe I’ll win a million dollars and I can retire.” Alex threw his hands up over his head in frustration.
“Don’t be such a grump, Alex. We’re still moving on this.” She tried to sound more hopeful than she felt.
* * * * * * * * * *
Andrew woke with a start. It was Sunday. Why was his alarm ringing? He didn’t need to get up early today. It was a rest day. He could see the sunlight peeking through the edge of the blinds in his bedroom when he opened his eyes. He had pressed the button on his alarm clock several times, but it wouldn’t stop ringing. He looked over and saw the screen on his phone was lit up. Of course, his alarm clock didn’t even ring! It played the local radio station. He grabbed the phone and swiped across the screen to answer it.
“It’s Andrew.”
“What’s the status of the girl?” The familiar, gravelly voice asked him.
“We haven’t really gotten to talk to her yet. She kind of gave us the slip yesterday.”
“You don’t have time for mistakes. If the wrong person finds out about the powder, it’s gone along with your scholarship.”
“It’s gone? What do you mean, it’s gone? It’s already gone, man. Or did you get it back?”
“I told you. I’m working on it. You take care of your part and I’ll take care of mine.” The call ended.
Andrew groaned. He hated being this guy’s lackey, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t lose his scholarship, and without the powder, he’d never be able to keep it. Even worse, he’d never even be considered for the pros, not even Minor League. He had a few hours before he needed to leave for the study group. He decided not to worry about borrowing Casey’s textbook. Most students used digital copies of books anymore, but he didn’t want to purchase one of those either. He knew the library would have multiple copies, even if they were older editions. It would be good enough. He went into his bedroom to check his closet. Even if the girls thought asking the roommate out was doomed to fail, he still wanted to look good. You could never be too sure.
* * * * * * * * * *
Cari sat across from Bob at the coffee shop. Her hair was still wet from the shower, but she’d pulled it into a ponytail to keep it from getting her shirt wet too. It was Sunday, so she’d thrown on an old college t-shirt and jeans along with her sneakers. Bob was dressed in his usual attire of light khaki pants, a button-up shirt with a collar, and leather loafers. Most people didn’t know, but he had naturally curly hair. He didn’t like it, so he got frequent haircuts to keep the unruly curls at bay. Bob removed his beanie and smoothed his hair back into place. His friendly blue eyes sparkled as he looked at Cari.
“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? A bagel even?” She asked Bob.
“I had cereal before I left. Thanks anyway.”
Cari took a bite of the coffee cake she had ordered before asking Bob about the case. She tried to compose her thoughts while she chewed.
“Did the ME release Ithaca’s body yet?”
“No. He still has a hold on it. The parents aren’t happy about it.”
“Why is there a hold? Is it because of Delamont?”
Bob’s eyes got big and he looked around the room carefully. “Cari! You’re not supposed to know about him.”
“Relax, the whole newsroom knows. No, I didn’t tell them. It’s been twenty-four hours now, Bob. It’s old news.”
“Okay, fine. But I don’t know if that’s why they won’t release the other body. The ME didn’t say.”
“It seems probable, though, right? Two deaths on the same campus in less than twenty-four hours? What are the odds? Have you had to run any more tests related to Ithaca?”
“Cari, I’m not really supposed to talk about open cases.”
Cari suppressed a sigh. “I’m not going to report it, Bob. We’re friends. This is off-the-record.”
“It feels like an interview, Cari.”
“I’m sorry, Bob. It was really upsetting to see that kid go down. What if this happens to someone else? I couldn’t live with myself if I ignored my gut feeling on this.”
“Your gut feeling?”
“That the kid was taking something. Something made him collapse.”
“I understand that you’re upset, but even if I could tell you about the case, I don’t have anything to tell. All I know is that they are holding his body.”
“What about Delamont, then? I’m certain the deaths are related, and it sounds like someone at your station agrees with me. Who are they looking at for Delamont’s murder?”
Bob sighed. “Off the record?”
Cari nodded. “Off the record, my friend.” She slipped her hand into her pocket and hit a button on her recorder without Bob noticing.
* * * * * * * * * *
Whitham paced in his office. He wished he could speed up time or peer into the future and see that everything was okay again. He reminded himself that it had only been less than two days, so there was no reason to panic. Yet. Still, it felt like his life was dangling from that proverbial precipice and it was going to fall the wrong way unless he did the right thing first.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number that was becoming increasingly familiar. No one answered and the person’s voicemail soon played into his ear. Whitham debated ending the call without leaving a message but decided the person still needed a gentle shove in the right direction.
I need an update from you. Have you made contact with our guy? Call me and let me know. Sooner rather than later. I hope I don’t have to remind you that several scholarships, including yours, depend on you making this happen. Be the team player that I know you are.
He hung up before the recording could cut him off. He didn’t like being in the dark. Maybe he should take a more active role in the recovery process. He was about to set his phone down again when a text flashed on the screen.
Set up a meeting with him for help in his biochemistry class. I’ll update after.
A meeting? Not good enough.
I could ask about working in his lab. It’s something he offers for XC.
Cross Country?
Extra Credit
Oh. How soon would you start?
Idk. Gotta talk to him first.
Whitham drummed his fingers on the desk. He still wasn’t convinced that this person was capable of getting anything from the professor. It was critical that they get the powder back. Maybe he could find a way to be more persuasive.
* * * * * * * * * *
Marjorie sat down on her bed and stared off into space. She’d just dropped Stephen’s parents off at their hotel again after eating brunch at a local café. She wondered if his parents felt as detached from reality as she did right now.
The ME had still refused to release his body to his parents. Stephen’s mom had wept as his dad begged, but no amount of pleading would change the decision. The ME said that someone further up the food chain had demanded that the body not be released to the family yet. Marjorie hadn’t mentioned the death of the sports medicine doctor to Shirley and Cort. She felt guilty somehow about it. If she’d pressed Stephen about that powder more, maybe he wouldn’t have taken it. Maybe he’d still be alive.
She shook her head. She knew his death wasn’t her fault. In fact, no one had even said that his death was suspicious or anything. They had said natural causes, but still, she wondered. Stephen had been an athlete for as long as she had known him. He’d never been sick or suffered from any sort of chronic illness. What was in that powder? The more she thought about it, the more certain she felt that it was at the center of this entire disaster. Maybe she should call that reporter back, but she was afraid that the woman just wanted to sensationalize Stephen’s death. Marjorie didn’t want to tarnish his image. He didn’t deserve that.