Page 41 of Snitches and Serpents

I glance up and down the road as I reach the one leading to my dorm room. Freestanding houses made of white stone line the street on my left while the buildings on the right are much larger, since they contain dormitories. The small lawns around the houses are neat. A few people sit in chairs outside one of the houses, and a couple of people are coming down the sidewalk on the other side. But no sign of Tristan.

Not that I was looking for him or anything.

Letting out an annoyed breath, I shake my head at myself yet again and then pick up the pace.

I have almost reached the large building that houses my dorm room when I spot two people I recognize. They’re coming right towards me on the sidewalk.

Dread seeps through my veins like ice. But I keep walking with my head held high. It’s not as if they’re here for me.

They draw closer.

I barely remember to breathe as the final distance between us evaporates and we’re right on top of each other. Keeping to the side, I get ready to simply slip past them. But an arm right before my chest blocks my path.

“Elle Summers.” Davidson, the campus police officer who wanted to arrest me for drug possession last week, keeps his arm out to block my escape while he gives me a sharp look. “I need you to remain here for a minute.”

I glance towards the woman next to him, the same woman who was also there when they searched my room, before I meet his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

Instead of answering, he looks to his colleague. “Ginny, search her bag. I’ll pat her down.”

Alarm spikes through me. But before I can say anything, the female officer, Ginny, rolls her eyes at him.

“I will pat her down,” she says. “You can search the?—”

“That was not a suggestion,” Davidson snaps.

I flinch at the sharp tone. God, he really seems to hate me. And I don’t even understand why.

Ginny hesitates. But apparently, Davidson outranks her, because she shoots me an apologetic look and then reaches for the paper bag in my hand. I hand it to her.

“Hold out your arms,” Davidson orders.

“On what grounds?” I ask, but I do hold my arms out to the sides as instructed. “I don’t understand. What is going on?”

The paper bag rustles into the silence as Ginny searches through it while Davidson starts patting me down as if I’m some kind of criminal. Each touch of his hands on my body sends unease rolling through me. But to his credit, he at least doesn’t touch anything inappropriate. He simply conducts an efficient pat-down.

Then his eyes light up as he reaches the pocket of my hoodie. I open my mouth to ask again what’s going on when he pulls out a knife from my pocket.

My mind goes blank.

With my mouth still open, I stare in stunned disbelief as he holds up the weapon in front of my face.

“Carrying a knife in public is illegal in this state, Ms. Summers,” Davidson says with both a hint of threat and smugness in his tone.

A knife? How on earth could he have found a knife in my pocket? I didn’t?—

Realization slams into me with the force of a freight train.

Tristan.

That’s why he kissed me. Not because he wanted me but because he needed to distract me while he slipped a knife into my pocket.

“Son of a bitch,” I blurt out, completely stunned.

“Excuse me?” Davison snaps.

“Oh, no. Not you, sir.” Shaking my head, I raise my hands while staring at him with desperate eyes. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t directed at you. It’s just… the knife isn’t mine.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah, that excuse is starting to get a little old now, Ms. Summers.”

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