Chapter 28

Sometime between the posting of the fic and the following morning, Tyler tells the police everything.

He texts Piper at 8:32 a.m., minutes before Piper arrives on campus.

I figured if you’re going to be mad at me for going to the police, you might as well be mad at me for something I actually did. I SWEAR I’m not the one who told them Lu was missing, but since they’d found out that much I figured they should know all of it. So I called and told them everything I know. I do want Lu to be okay. I love you.

Piper nearly sits down on the cold sidewalk. Shock courses through them as they come to an abrupt halt. Alarm bells are going off in their head—the police know everything, the police are coming back to campus—but it’s the last three words that really immobilize them. Tyler has never said that before.

Piper didn’t know that before.

What a fucked-up—is it some sort of distraction technique, or—why now, why—but—but—and yet as Piper’s mind whirls around in circles, and as the fear and anger crash through them in waves, there’s a tiny blush of something else deep in their chest, a bright, pleased little bloom.

That goes away pretty quickly. As soon as they turn down the path to the humanities building, they see the police car parked in the nearby lot, and the officer outside, hand on his belt, watchful.

Oh, fuck, thinks Piper, their mind zooming up the stairs to Isabel’s office. She’s going to be so pissed.

They almost veer away, not wanting to pass the officer at the door, but they steel themself and keep walking. They’re not stopped or questioned as they enter the building; that’s something, at least. But upstairs, the atmosphere is grim. Detective Nablock is standing in the open doorway of Francis Pace’s office, talking quietly, and Detective Boehm is inside the office shared by Katie and and Karen and some younger grads, a notebook open. Katie is standing outside, looking a little shell-shocked.

“Piper,” she hisses, hurrying toward them and grabbing them by the wrist. “Somebody told the police about the bugs. And now they’re saying Lu leaving might be connected to Jack’s death! Which, like, holy shit—”

Piper swallows. He watches Nablock out of the corner of his eye. Nablock’s face is grave.

“Isabel,” Piper says. “Is she…”

“She’s talking to the dean right now. The police talked to her. She told them about the bugs. Well, they already knew about them somehow, but she told them who planted them. Piper, who the fuck told the police?”

“Is Isabel angry?”

Katie bites her lip. “I think so. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her for more than a second, but she looked…” She shakes her head. “Antonio’s teaching right now but he’s going to end class early. Phoebe’s on her way. The police want to see all the offices that were bugged. Isabel raised a stink about that—intruding on grad students’ space, et cetera—but Dean Hanley says the offices belong to the university and they’re going to do whatever the police need. He’s definitely pissed, by the way—like, explosion level angry.”

“About the bugs?”

“About the bugs, about the fact that no one told him about them, but mostly the fact that the conflict in the department is causing him even more problems. And like—it’s true, this could be news, we could all really end up under the spotlight. All the bad blood, everything…no one’s gonna want to come here, like, ever again. Not grads, not faculty—probably not even undergrads—and it’s going to be so bad for us when we go on the job market next year. Like, so bad.” She’s biting her fingernails a little manically. Piper feels a hard lump of guilt growing in their stomach. This is their fault. They shouldn’t have told Tyler, it was stupid, of course he didn’t, doesn’t, understand. If Isabel was mad about them hiring Julian, think how furious she’ll be about the actual police poking into Lu’s disappearance.            “Piper,” says Katie, more hesitant now. “About Lu. Do you really think her going away is…is connected to…”

Piper swallows. “I don’t know. Maybe.” They fidget with the hem of their jacket, then say, quietly, “Yes.”

Katie sucks in a breath. “Shit.” A pause. “Hang on. Do you…did you know that already?”

Piper nods.

“And you didn’t—oh my god. Wait, did the—those detectives you hired, did they find it out? That her leaving is probably connected to Jack?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Katie looks stricken. “That’s—oh, god, did they tell the police, then?”

“I don’t think so,” Piper says quietly.

“Fuck.” She runs her hands through her straight black hair. “Piper.”

“I know, I know, it all looks so bad…”

“Not that. I mean, are you okay?”

Piper looks up at her, blinking. “What?”

“Are you okay? Lu’s, like, gone. In really, uh—these circumstances are bad. You must be—aren’t you freaking out?”

They swallow. “Well. Yeah.”

Katie wraps her arm around their shoulder and squeezes. Piper takes a long breath, feeling suddenly shaky.

“Maybe…” Katie lowers her voice, glancing around. “Maybe it’s not…totally a bad thing? That the police are here? I mean, if Lu is really in danger…shouldn’t there be people looking for her?”

Piper hesitates. “I mean, there already were. Are. The detective is still…”

“Right. But also, like, officially. I mean, this is—it’s bigger than all the departmental bullshit, right? We can’t—” she looks around furtively—“we can’t really just deal with this by ourselves. Not anymore.”

She’s speaking so quietly now that Piper has to lean in to hear. They do lean in, conscious of the people around them—Nablock, Boehm, the other students who have gathered in corners to watch—conscious that this is not a conversation that should be held in this particular place. Katie’s words feel…god, it’s melodramatic, but they feel almost dangerous. Crossing a line that they’ve all been so careful not to cross. At the same time, though, they also feel true.

Piper searches for the perfectly phrased reply, something both diplomatic and deniable. But then they hear Isabel’s voice on the stairs, and they and Katie stand up straight, putting distance between them like they’re dissidents about to be caught by their leader.

“…apologize for the disruption,” she is saying. “But you really must see that my colleagues and I are not the ones who have taken it this far…”

She comes into view, the dean, tight-lipped and red-faced, keeping pace with her. Drs. Jordan James and Sarah Rasmussen trail behind. At that moment, Nablock emerges from Pace’s office with Pace in tow.

“Ah, Dean Hanley. We’re just about to get out of your hair, though we’ll need to return soon to talk to quite a few members of the department.”

“Yes,” says the dean. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Boehm joins him. Together they head toward the stairs, parting the little group as they go. And Francis Pace follows them.

“Francis,” says the dean in a dangerously even tone. “I’d like a word, please—”

“That’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” says Nablock. “Dr. Pace is accompanying us to the station for further questioning.”

For a moment, it’s so silent in the hallway that the wind blowing against the old windows sounds like an army attempting to invade. “When you say ‘questioning…’” begins the dean.

“Well,” says Nablock, “it’s looking very much as if we’ll be reopening the Jack Hart case. Given what we’ve heard this morning, I think we need to speak to Dr. Pace at greater length.”

Karen Gavras is standing at the end of the hall. Her face goes white. Down at the other end, Christopher Maynard and Todd Burns have emerged from Maynard’s office and are watching with curious faces. Isabel, Sarah, and Jordan exchange glances. And Francis Pace, though he’s standing quite tall and looks as collected as ever, can’t totally mask the tremble in his hands.

“Of course,” Nablock adds, “we’ll be wanting to talk to everyone again soon, so please stay in town. Oh, hello again, Piper—we’ve got some things to discuss, don’t we?”

Piper freezes. Everyone turns to look at them. Isabel’s eyes widen.

Nablock and Boehm give them identical smiles, and head down the stairs with Francis Pace. Their footsteps recede. And all hell breaks loose.

Piper sits in Isabel’s office five minutes later, head down, trying to remember to breathe.

Isabel is flanked by Sarah on one side and Jordan on the other. Piper wonders dully where Fatima is; then they’d have the full panel to judge them.

“It wasn’t Julian,” they say again, quietly. “I swear it wasn’t him who told the police.”

Isabel’s mouth thins once more. Her wild hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, so tight it looks almost painful. “I hear you say that, Piper,” she says, “but it’s very hard for me to imagine that anyone within the department would have gone outside to deal with this.”

Piper swallows.

“And you had talked to them before. That police detective—he knew you.”

Piper nods. “I…yes. They talked to me yesterday, at my apartment. I didn’t tell them anything, I didn’t mention the bugs—”

“The dean is threatening to completely destroy this department.”

Tears well up in Piper’s eyes. They feel horribly guilty. It is their fault, of course. They are responsible. They’re not totally sure why they’re keeping Tyler’s secret inside them, where it’s festering in a little hollow in their belly, whether it’s because they’re terrified of Isabel’s angry disappointment or because of the three words at the end of Tyler’s text this morning.

“Can he do that?” they ask hesitantly. “I mean…he can’t fire anyone who’s tenured…”

“He can royally fuck with our lives,” Isabel answers. “Blocking funding, messing with teaching loads, review committees—he’ll definitely be conducting an inquiry, and he can come in with all sorts of demands and oversight—”

“And don’t forget, Fatima’s up for tenure this year,” Jordan adds.

The bottom drops out of Piper’s stomach. They had forgotten, fuck, fuck, Fatima’s not tenured yet.

“Piper,” Sarah says, more gently. “I can see how this might have happened by accident. You never meant it to come out, but not everyone understands what it’s like here.”

Piper shuts their eyes against the tears still threatening to spill out. They shake their head mutely, though they’re not sure what they mean by it. Katie’s words echo in their head: it’s bigger than all the departmental bullshit. But the bullshit isn’t bullshit—it’s people’s careers, livelihoods, it’s their research, everything they’ve worked for; more than that, it’s everything they believe in. They care so much, all of them, because it matters. It matters. The things they write and teach and think—it all matters.

We can’t really just deal with this by ourselves, Katie said. Not anymore.

Jack, with his throat cut. Piper has nightmares about the blood. Last night they dreamed of Lu covered in it, blood branching from her opened veins, in spirals and swoops and crosshatching lines, just like the spirit drawings she writes about.

“I told a friend,” Piper mutters. It’s hard to get the words out. “Someone outside the department. I’m pretty sure they’re the one who told the police.” Whether Tyler actually alerted the police to Lu’s disappearance in the first place, Piper isn’t certain anymore, but he definitely is responsible for their presence here today. “They were worried about Lu, because of Jack. I’m sorry, I…I’m sorry…”

They’re crying now. They hate it, hate the tears gushing from their eyes. Why can’t they keep it together?

“Oh, Piper,” Isabel says. Her voice is quieter now, but heavy with disappointment.

“I’m sorry.”

A long sigh; a long pause.

“Did I—” Piper swallows convulsively. They can’t look at Isabel or Sarah or Jordan. “Did I mess it all up?”

Another pause. “We’ll all do our best to fix it,” Isabel says finally. “Won’t we?”

Piper nods, tears brimming again. Shame washes through them, mixed with the need to prove themself, to make it better, to promise Isabel they’ll do better, they’ll be better.

And yet somewhere, in some quiet pocket of Piper’s consciousness, there’s a small, niggling voice of protest. A small voice that says, but what about Lu?

Piper’s lap has accumulated a pile of tissues when they’re interrupted by a knock on the closed office door. Isabel has rested her hand on Piper’s, in forgiveness and benediction, and now she is quietly strategizing with Sarah and Jordan as Piper collects themself.

“Yes?” Isabel calls in response to the knock.

“May I enter?”

The voice is unexpected—deep and older, but not the dean’s.

“Christopher,” Isabel says, brow furrowing warily. She exchanges a glance with her colleagues. “Go ahead.”

The door opens. Piper doesn’t turn around to look; their face is too puffy and streaked with tears. They take a deep breath, trying to make themself as unobtrusive as possible.

“What a shock this has all been,” says Dr. Maynard. His voice is touched with all the most predictable notes: dismay, concern, disapproval. Piper can imagine him declaiming Shakespeare to his undergrad survey classes in the same false, pompous tone. “Truly, a most regretful series of incidents. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years here.”

Maynard likes to remind everyone that he’s the most senior professor in the department. He’s overcompensating, of course, for his irrelevance, both to the actual goings-on of the department and the wider field of literary studies.

“No,” says Isabel shortly. “Nor have I.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause. Piper can’t help sneaking a glance behind them. Maynard is standing in the doorway, a look of benign concern creasing his elderly face. Todd Burns is surely lurking within earshot somewhere. Impatience flickers through Piper; they don’t have time for Maynard’s posturing right now.

Isabel seems to feel the same. “Can I do something for you, Christopher?”

“Well,” Maynard says immediately, “well, here it is, Isabel. I’m deeply concerned about the department—about the safety of the students, above all. One of our graduate students has been killed—killed!” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I am saying those words. And another, your own advisee, is missing, isn’t she? Did I hear correctly?”

There’s not a chance Maynard doesn’t know everything for certain. His irrelevance is only matched by his grasping attempts to reclaim his own importance.

“‘Missing’ is…a strong word,” Isabel answers. “She has left the department, yes.”

“Well, you know best, I’m sure,” says Maynard. “But…well. After what happened with Francis this morning…I’m sure he’ll be back, of course, but so will the police—and, well, I’m just not sure the department is in any state to be welcoming visitors at the moment.”

A pause. “Visitors?” Isabel asks.

“The graduate admission open house, you know. Of course the admitted students will want to see the campus, but a coordinated event—with the police in and out, and, goodness, someone violent perhaps…”

“I’m sorry,” Jordan cuts in. “Are you suggesting we cancel the open house?”

Piper holds very still. Their heart is racing, but they don’t turn back around to look at Maynard. It feels like any movement might be disastrous.

“I am,” says Maynard. “I know it’s not ideal, but…in my understanding, many of the admitted students are, ah, unable to attend as it is.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Isabel says crisply. Her eyes have gone stormy and dark. “You’d like it if none of us brought in any new graduate students at all, and the whole department could molder into obscurity like you.”

“Isabel!” Maynard says. The shock in his voice is, again, pitch perfect. Piper pities his undergrads; Maynard probably does an unbearable Lear. “There’s no need for that.”

“Get out,” she says. “I don’t have time for this, Christopher. We have real problems to deal with.”

Piper is still hunched over, facing Isabel, but they can imagine Christopher’s face, wouldn’t be surprised if the carefully constructed concern gives way, momentarily, to genuine anger or shock. The image is satisfying.

“Well,” he says. “Very well, then. But consider my suggestion, Isabel. I’m sure you wouldn’t want another catastrophe to occur in front of your hopeful prospectives.”

He shuts the door gently behind him. When he’s gone, Piper feels a peculiar rush of relief. Isabel’s furious expression, Jordan’s curled lip, Sarah’s disbelieving headshake—and none of it is aimed at them. The office has become, once more, a fortress, and Piper is on the inside, protected by its walls once again.