Page 50 of Dig Your Grave

Early the next morning, Sunday, I woke to frantic messages from the library’s group chat:

Margrett:“Emergency meeting at 9 a.m.System meltdown.Everyone come!”

My stomach churned.System meltdown.Must be what they called our infiltration.I rubbed my eyes, dressing in a hurry to show up on time and act clueless.

At the library, Margrett stood in the foyer, arms folded, face grim.A half-dozen staff members and student workers milled around, some looking anxious, others still yawning.

I tried to keep my expression carefully neutral as I joined them.

Margrett addressed us in a tight voice: “Last night, someone accessed our security mainframe and server, resulting in partial data loss and a compromised camera feed.This is a serious breach.”

A hush fell.One staff member whispered, “Who would do that?”

Margrett’s steely gaze flicked around.“We’re cooperating with campus IT to investigate.In the meantime, staff must operate the library with restricted access to records.Everyone is to remain vigilant.If you saw anything suspicious, speak up.”

I forced my best shocked face, raising a trembling hand.“Margrett?Did the cameras catch the intruder?”

She exhaled.“The entire feed was scrambled.Time stamps are missing or replaced with junk data.The system might have been tampered with around eleven p.m.to midnight.We don’t have a name.”

I relaxed internally, so far, no direct evidence pointing to me or Anubis.

Margrett paused, scanning the group.Her gaze snagged on me, eyes narrowing slightly.I felt sweat form on my brow.Stay calm.

But then she moved on, explaining how we’d revert to manual checkouts until further notice.At the end, she released us to our duties.

I spent the rest of the morning helping a trickle of students find books, all while my mind buzzed with the aftermath.The sabotage had worked.The Skulls would be pleased.But at what cost?

That evening, after my classes, I found Anubis in the caretaker’s cottage.He was pacing near the table, worry etched on his face.

“Any sign of trouble?”I asked, sliding off my coat.

He shook his head.“Not from campus security.But the Skulls sure didn’t waste time.Sophie texted me.”

He handed me his phone:

S.M.:

“Impressive results.Meet me at the boathouse 2 a.m.Tuesday.Bring your…partner.”

I sank onto the chair.“They want to see us in person.Probably to gloat or give new orders.”

He nodded grimly.“We can’t refuse.”

I rubbed my temples, exhaustion gnawing at me.“We completed the sabotage, but do we have enough evidence to keep going?Because if we keep doing tasks like this, we’re basically criminals.”

Anubis placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.“We do it carefully, gather more proof, and stay alive.I know it’s not easy.”

I forced a shaky smile, gleaning comfort from his presence.“Let’s see if the logs I grabbed hold any clues about Toccara.”

He booted up his laptop.I plugged my phone in, transferring the files.We scrolled through the logs: time stamps, user access reports, camera snapshots.Many were corrupted or incomplete, a jumbled puzzle.

Then we found something: a series of scans referencing “Student Incident, 12:47 a.m., River Proximity.”The date matched the night Toccara died.The file included cryptic tags: “Distress,” “Security override,” “Dean’s directive.”

My blood ran cold.“Dean’s directive?”The Dean was Sophie’s mother.

Anubis frowned.“She might have ordered it.Possibly instructing campus security not to record certain footage.”

We kept digging, hearts pounding.The camera snapshots from the relevant time were missing, but a note indicated they had been archived or removed.Another line read: “Scholarship student unidentified on footage near the boathouse.Alert override.”

---