I think about Emma’s secret phone and the texts from Beau.
“Are you sure you didn’t wake up while Emma was there?” the detective continues.
I scoff. “And what? Make plans to go to the boathouse with her?” It shoots out of my mouth before I can think. Sarcastic to a fault.
Cataldo raises her eyebrows. “I was thinking more along the lines of your waking up momentarily but not remembering, seeing her get ready to go, maybe her telling you who she was meeting.”
“That didn’t happen,” I mumble. And I know who Emma was meeting. Beau. After the Ivies. A full social calendar. I’m not ready to hand over my Beau lead, but my friends…
I chew on the thought for a moment, and then I decide. “Did you find out about the secret room in the boathouse? Emma used to party there. Maybe that’s where she went.”
I’m going to burn my friends. Maybe they deserve it.
Cataldo’s eyebrows disappear under the rim of her winter hat. “Excuse me?”
“I only found out yesterday. Guess I wasn’t cool enough to be invited. But that’s probably why the security feed was out. They were sneaking out there to party that night.”
I give her a single puzzle piece, watch her eyes go wide with surprise. I don’t know if this is smart or colossally stupid.
“Where is this secret room? What do you mean, you only found out yesterday?”
“It’s behind the boys’ steam room. You need a code to get in. It’s one-nine-zero-two. I found a text exchange I wasn’t supposed to know about and realized my friends hung out there without me.” Half-true. I’ll tell her about Beau later, once I’ve figured out who he is.
“And who is they, exactly?”
This is my last chance to turn back. To be a good friend.
But good friend to who? My friends who ditched me on the regular to party in the boathouse? Who committed acts of sabotage that turn my stomach?
“The Ivies,” I say with one big exhale of breath. “Avery, Sierra, Margot, Emma.”
“And you. You’re an Ivy, aren’t you?”
It seems like a trick question.
“Technically.” It’s an offering. Giving Cataldo an inch on our conversation the other day. “But I wasn’t invited to the boathouse. Like I told you, I only found out yesterday. Tyler said the Ivies texted Emma after they hooked up.”
Cataldo does a double take at that. “I interviewed all three of them, and no one said anything about an after-party in the boathouse.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You think they’d tell you the truth after someone got murdered?”
“You suspect your friends?”
“I didn’t say that. But…” What am I trying to say? “I know they were at the boathouse that night, and I know Emma went to meet them. Or maybe she was there meeting someone else, and they saw something. I don’t know.”
How did it work? Emma partied with the other Ivies and then texted Beau to meet her there? When would she have had time to come back to the room? But she did. Sweater, door, boot print, earring. Cataldo said Emma wasn’t wearing an earring when they found her, but when else would it have ended up on the study room floor?
The timeline doesn’t make sense. At least, the timeline I’m assuming doesn’t make sense. I don’t actually know when the Ivies were in that room. When Avery burned her hoodie in effigy. And Tyler said there was a text, but Cataldo doesn’t know about it. It had to have been deleted. Was it them?
I’ll have to ask them.
But first I need to hack Emma’s laptop. “Shall we go in?” Cataldo follows me into Austen. I don’t work on Sundays, but I hope Cathy won’t say anything and blow my cover.
I escort the detective into the admin office, where, thankfully, I find the front desk vacant.
“Shit.” Cataldo drums impatient fingers on the desk, peers around for someone.
“Who do you need?”
“Someone named Cathy is supposed to secure this for me. They said there was a place for it.”
God bless Cathy and her smoke breaks I am not supposed to know about or disclose to Fitzgerald. Everyone has secrets at Claflin, even the staff.
“I know where they mean. We have a secure tech closet. I have a key.” I fish said key out of my bag. I smile at Cataldo, dangling it between my fingers for her to see. “I’ll show you.”
I suck in a breath and hold it as I go to lead her back; if she follows, then she trusts me. Perhaps I am not a suspect after all. But if she doesn’t…
But no, she does. I can breathe again. We make our way to a small room off the main hallway, tucked between the faculty lounge and the security room. It’s long and rectangular, really an oversized closet, lined on three sides with floor-to-ceiling shelves that house state-of-the-art projectors, MacBook Pros, LED televisions, and the like. Really, it’s a tech graveyard, but I hope Cataldo doesn’t notice. It is true that we keep the room secure, though. The ID-making machine sits on a cart against the back wall.
I find a spot on one of the shelves near the doors, move a small box of wireless mice so Cataldo can slide the laptop case into the space.
“Her phone is in there as well. The FBI wants, the FBI gets.”
I give a watery smile to her tepid joke and usher her out. I lock the door and hurry back out front. I need to get Cataldo out before Cathy returns, so I can slip into the tech room unseen.
“I’ll see you tonight at the memorial?” I ask. I want her there for when I nail Beau.
The detective gives a belabored sigh, lingers at the doors. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
A shrill ring sounds. “I have to get that.” I smile brightly and wave. “Bye!” I answer the phone, quickly placing the caller on hold, and then watch Cataldo until she disappears down the hallway. Whoever called will have to try again later. I spring into action, go back to the tech room, but I hesitate at the door. Am I really doing this? Definitely breaking the law. Also maybe betraying my friend. If my theory about her laptop password holds, I’ll have access to Emma’s private files, everything.
Something niggles at the back of my brain. I have my key in my right hand. It’s a clunky thing, big square handle.
Like the key I found in Emma’s desk. But there’s no way…
I dig into the pocket of my jeans, for once thankful I own only two pairs, and the key I slipped in there the other day meets my fingers, cool to the touch despite my body heat. Hold it up against my own key. Identical.