Page 41 of The Initiation

“You wanted to know what the job is. That’s it.”

“Really?” I ask, wearily. “That’s all of it?”

Dr. Wright arches an eyebrow.

“I’m sick of playing games, so if there’s anything else you expect me to do, you need to tell me. I’m tired of being punished because I’m not a mind reader.” My words are sharp—sharper than I should ever use with a professor—but I’m exhausted.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t really need the job, because at the end of the day, I’m going to need to pay a lawyer, but if I don’t have to spend any extra time with this guy, I’ll be happier.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen warmth in the professor’s eyes, but somehow, as he straightens his back, he manages to stare at me with an even colder glare.

“As far as the current requirements go for being my T.A., that is all. If anything else is required, I will let you know. However, I’ve already been more than clear with my expectations of you in that house. Do I need to repeat those?”

“No.”

“Then what do you have?”

My grip on the iPad tightens. “I’ve barely been there a week.”

“And? Didn’t you say time was limited?”

“It is, and then you gave me this stupid job, which takes even more hours away from me,” I snap at him before I can stop myself.

“Which is why you need to move quickly when you’re in there,” he says, apparently oblivious to my irritation. “What exactly are you doing while you’re in there?”

The temptation to use the iPad to smack the professor on the head is enough for me to lean over and set it down on Dr. Wright’s desk, just out of reach.

The longer I’ve been trying to find answers, the more I’m realizing that the truth is buried deeply. The answer to who JP’s real killer is won’t be hanging on a wall in plain sight. Even when I was searching the bedrooms earlier, I wasn’t expecting to find any forgotten memo with all the details on it.

This isn’t the twentieth century. Everything is digital now.

I’ve only seen half of the rooms on each floor, and none have a bunch of filing cabinets in them with neatly labeled clues. I doubt the other half has them either.

“Or is it that you’ve found the evidence that proves your brother’s guilt, and you’re hiding it?”

My hands clench into fists. “My brother is innocent.”

“We’ll see.” Dr. Wright stares at me.

“The only time I’ve ever come across the name Lucy Barnes is when Arthur Willsberg said she was there that night.”

“She was your brother’s girlfriend.”

I roll my eyes. “Allegedly. Because Cole’s never mentioned her before.”

“Then I’d say it’s clear you don’t know your brother as well as you think you do.”

More and more frequently, I find my patience being tested. With Syn, I know I can’t react, but with Dr. Wright, I’m able to yell or storm off, rather than put up with the bullshit. Tempting as it is to do that now, I push my anger back and suck in a deep breath. “Who is Lucy Barnes?”

“Your brother’s second murder victim.”

I can feel my nails digging into the palms of my hands. “Let’s say I spent the afternoon sniffing glue and that I’m currently so out of my mind that I’m willing to accept that’s a possibility, explain to me how you—and only you, by the way—seems to know that he killed her, and why you haven’t gone to the police.”

Dr. Wright sits back in his chair before raising a leg so he can rest an ankle on his knee. Settling his hands in his laps, he looks at me like he’s about to tell me a bedtime story. “The last time I saw Lucy was on a Facetime call, about two weeks before she was murdered. I had a chat about her Thanksgiving plans, which included her going back to Cole’s parents so he could introduce his girlfriend to his family. The last time I heard from her, she was going to a college party with her boyfriend, and the very next day, he had been arrested for murder, and she hasn’t been seen since.”

The last Thanksgiving I had with Cole was his last year of high school. He mentioned something about going to James Keyingham for college and joining the Elite. I’d barely paid attention then and until coming here, I assumed the Elite was his way of saying he was going to be a student at the most prestigious college in the country.

He’d spent the following Thanksgiving in prison.

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