CHAPTER TWENTY
PAYTON
We’re standing on the quad, the Captain flanked by two instructors who I recognize from orientation.
The Captain takes off his cap, his fingers raking through his hair. The campus flag is flying at half-mast today. It’s windy, unruly, the clouds dabbed grey.
The Captain looks up to the sky before speaking. “It’s a sad day here at Pemberton. You’ve lost a classmate. I’m sure many of you have lost a friend.” He pauses, shaking his head. “It’s a hell of a thing, but here you are.”
I look to Lacey beside me. Her eyes are bloodshot. Someone coughs down the line.
“There will be no classes today,” the Captain goes on. “I know many of you have spoken to the police and authorities, but I need you all to remain on campus in case they have any further questions.” He puts his hands behind his back. “Given the traumatic nature of this incident, the campus is offering free counselling for anyone who needs it. Simply head down to the admin office. Alternatively, my door is always open, any time.
“As I said, there are no classes today, but we will be continuing on with the curriculum tomorrow. I think you’ll all agree that’s what Hernandez would have wanted. Rest assured the authorities are working hard to determine the cause of the fire. Any news, you’ll be the first to know. Dismissed.”
No one goes running off. We all sort of stand there in a strange muddle.
I face Lace, keeping my voice low. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Who do you think did it?”
She looks around. “You’re sure it was deliberate?”
“They locked the damn door, the only way out. They knocked out the security guard. If that doesn’t spell ‘deliberate,’ I don’t know what does, not to mention the stink of kerosene out back before it went up. No, someone set that blaze alright. I’m certain of it.”
My eyes fall on Jackson. He’s simply standing there with a strange sort of smirk on his face. He sees me and the smile drops.
Lacey follows my line of sight. “Perhaps. He is creepy.”
“And he loves to play with that damn Zippo lighter.”
“You think we should say something?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. Not yet. Let the authorities do their job, see what comes up.”
Lacey looks back to the dorms. “Poor Hernandez.”
I nod in agreement. “It’s a real fucking shame—murder if you want to call it what it is.”
“What do you want to do now?” asks Lacey.
I draw her into my arms. “I want to be with you.”
*
We skip lunch to make slow, tender love, the midday sun turning the sheets below us warm. I don’t think either of us exactly feels like eating after what happened last night.
The police arrive and interview those of us who were there again. Afterwards, the Captain pulls me into his office.
He gestures to the single chair in the room. “Take a seat, Cox.”
I look around. There’s a desk, a single, framed photo on it, but that is it. The office is completely barren. “You don’t have a chair, Captain?”
“A chair?” he laughs. “Do I look like I have time to sit around like this is Club Med? As my father used to say, ‘Why sit when you can stand tall?’”
O-kay. Odd one, but I let it go. “Is this about Hernandez?”
The Captain takes off his cap, placing it on the desk and aligning it with the framed photo. “No, son. Hernandez is gone and there ain’t shit we can do about it. It’s in the hands of the police now.”
“But they could be a student.”
“If it was deliberate, ‘they’ could be anyone, even a group of people. Like I said, the police are handling it. I pulled you in here to show you this.”
He takes a file out of his drawer and slaps it down in front of me.
Whenever someone adds that kind of dramatic flair I know bad news is coming, but the Captain remains upbeat. “You don’t need to open it. It’s an assessment of your written grades and progress. The prognosis? Extremely goddamn good. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, Cox, hopefully hitting the books hard, but it’s paying off. You’re rising right to the top.”
I’ve been hitting something alright, but it’s not books. That isn’t entirely truthful, of course. The study time with Lacey has been productive, even if it always leads to the same, blissful thing…
The Captain smiles. “I know you and Nelson are an item, son. The whole campus knows, but we’re all adults here. Don’t let us catch you fucking on the quad and everything should be alright. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Captain,” I reply, struggling to keep the smirk off my face at the thought of having sex in the middle of the quad. Hell, the class could cheer us on. First to orgasm wins.
“Long story short,” continues the Captain. “You’re on a good thing here, Cox. Don’t screw it up.”
“I understand.”
I get up to leave. The Captain reaches into the drawer again and hands me a single sheet of paper. “By the way, take this. Show it around.”
I take the sheet. It’s a grainy color photo of a figure walking across the street opposite Dante’s. In it they’re wearing what looks like jeans, a Pemberton sweater, and a blue Atlanta Braves baseball cap.
“It’s someone the police would like to talk to,” says the Captain. “They want me to hand these out around campus, see if anyone recognizes the cap.”
I fold it in half and place it into my pocket. “I will.”
“Good. See you at chow.”
I take the photo out once I’m standing back in the hall, scrutinizing the photo, but given the angle of the camera it’s impossible to tell how tall or what kind of build the figure is. Everyone here has a grey sweater. It’s uniform, so that’s out. It all comes down to the cap, and I can’t think of a single person student I’ve seen wearing one.
I look closer. It could be Jackson, but it’s far from definitive.
I flick the picture. “I’m going to find you, you son of a bitch. I’m going to find you and I’m going to make you pay.”
*
The somber mood continues through to dinner. Only half the class shows up, Jackson amongst the absent.
I show the photo to Lacey, who’s busy pushing mashed potatoes around her plate. “Yeah, I saw it.”
“And?”
She shrugs. “It could be anyone.”
I point to the cap. “But this. Have you seen anyone wearing a cap like this around campus? The Braves aren’t exactly popular around here. Someone has to recognize it.”
“I’m sorry.”
I hold the photo with two hands staring at it, looking for something I know I won’t find.
They’re going to get away with it. They’re going to get away with murdering Hernandez.
“What did the Captain want?” asks Lacey.
“To tell me my written grades have improved, funnily enough.”
Lacey smiles, punching me on the shoulder. “Hey, that’s great. I guess all that study time’s been worth it.”
I look around before squeezing her ass. “And the reward.”
“You’re not a toddler,” she replies. “I don’t give you a lollipop at the end of each session.”
“No,” I laugh, “you give me something far sweeter than that.”
She looks up at me. “Did he say anything about… us, the Captain?”
I nod to my plate. “He did, but he said as long as we keep it on the down-low, it’s fine.”
“And you call going at it in the Tower stairwell keeping it on the down-low?”
“No, I call that hot as fuck, but he said, and I quote, ‘As long as you’re not out there screwing on the quad, you’ll be fine.’”
“Screwing on the quad?” laughs Lacey. “The gravel rash alone… But you would, wouldn’t you? You love that risky stuff.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining on the back seat of the bus.”
“That was different.”
“Just because no one said anything doesn’t mean they didn’t know what was going on.”
“Are you trying to turn me off right now?”
A sudden memory of the fire cuts through my head. I blink it away. “Sorry?”
Lacey puts her fork down. “I’m not really hungry.”
“Me neither,” I say. Time for another closet session then?”