The Girl In White Page 6

  The guy stopped in front of us, his eyes going from one to the other of us. “Picking up students now, Professor? What, you think if you get them young enough they won’t turn you down?” he asked in a snide tone.

  And my temper rose up. I pulled my phone from my purse and snapped a picture of the guy before running it through the facial recognition software I’d created. I almost rolled my eyes when his name came up. Keats Driscoll.

  No way. He was Jayden’s younger brother. That was disconcerting. Looked like they had a few things in common.

  The beautiful thing was, Keats was not my boss. I could say whatever I wanted without fear of backlash or the loss of my job. Oh . . . his nuts were mine.

  I took a slow step forward and curled my lips in a sneer. “Wow. You really need to take care of those parking tickets, Keats. The fine you’re working up is a lot higher than your job can support. And anyway, your position on the newspaper staff is tenuous at best after the article you slipped past your editor.”

  That particular article had been on my dad and had accused him of beating up a neighbor. The woman had denied it vehemently but there had still been an investigation by the school’s administration. Despite my dad’s years of untarnished work, he too was on thin ice.

  And there Keats stood, accusing my dad of . . . propositioning someone he probably believed to be a student. My temper didn’t ease off in the least. “There’s something very serious I need to tell you.” I leaned a tiny bit closer to him and jabbed my finger at his chest. “Your brother is kind of a jerk. The family resemblance between you is striking in that department.”

  He gaped at me, then gaped at Dad. It was like he thought Dad had passed me a message of some sort.

  I turned my phone around to show him Dad had nothing to do with it. “Anything that’s accessible on any server is out there for someone with the tenacity to find it. I have a LOT of tenacity and you pissed me off.”

  Dad snorted. He made a weird noise before he threw his head back and roared with laughter. In my entire life, I had never heard him laugh so hard.

  Tears were in his eyes when he finally collected himself. “Madison, I have never been more proud. I was supposed to talk you into going to MIT. I don’t think you need it. It’s your life. Whatever you decide, I’m behind you,” he said, still making odd choking noises as he tried to suppress more laughter.

  Keats’ eyes were so wide, he looked deranged. “Madison? THIS is your daughter?” he asked as his eyes moved over me in an open way.

  I glowered at him and tapped my phone, pretending to have done something. “Oh look, another parking ticket appeared in your record. Do you want to piss me off some more and see what I’m willing to do?”

  “Wait, isn’t tampering with a person’s police records a felony?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “I didn’t need to tamper with your record,” I said with a motion over his shoulder where a parking ticket had been laid on the windshield of his car.

  Dad snorted again and nudged his thumb to beckon me away from Keats. “Let’s get out of here, Madison,” he said, his eyes fixed on Keats. “As a professor, I’m aware that my life is under scrutiny by everyone. My daughter is off limits. If I see any articles that have to do with her, I’ll make sure you never write for The Tartan again.”

  Keats continued to stare at me as he scratched absently at a spot on his neck. “I’m just trying to write a tribute to Manuel. That’s all,” he said in an almost pleading tone.

  Dad laid his hand on my shoulder and guided me away. “Manuel was a good kid with a bright future. That is all I have to say to you, Keats,” and he guided me off.

  I wanted to pull away from him, go back, and sucker punch that kid. I wanted to so much, I almost did. Dad’s hand on my shoulder was the only thing that kept me from doing it.

  It was such a strange thing. At that moment, I felt closer to my dad than I had all my life. He had told me yet again that he was proud of me. He had said it in front of someone else. He hadn’t berated me for what I had done . . . which was technically illegal.

  Okay, fine. There was nothing technical about it. I had, in fact, committed a felony by breaking into Keats’ police file and my dad had told me he was proud. That was just weird.

  He removed his hand from my shoulder, his eyes fixed straight in front of him as he spoke. “Madison, you are an amazingly gifted girl. You have the potential to be anything you want to be, to do anything at all.”

  I folded my arms and stared at the ground as we walked. “But?” I asked, waiting for the ax to fall.

  “But nothing.” He stopped and faced me, his mouth curved in a small smile. “You and I are a lot more alike than either of us is probably comfortable with. You may get your looks from your mom but the technical understanding of electronics is my contribution to your genes. I never realized how much alike we were in personality before today.”

  I tipped my head back to look him in the eye, my brows furrowed. “So you’re saying the temper that makes my life so difficult is your fault?” I asked, a lightness coming to both my heart and mind.

  “I’d say that’s on you, Madison. I simply understand it, probably better than anybody else.” He nudged his chin in the direction of his car. “Are you hungry?” he asked, his slight smile still in place.

  And I was. More, I was eager to spend time with my dad. It looked like neither of us really knew the other. It was a mix of comfort and sorrow to see how well we could indeed get along.

  All my life, Mom had been there in the background badmouthing everything Dad did. She had made me believe Dad could hardly stand me. I had been stupid enough to believe her. To see how blatant her lies had been made my temper rise up again.

  As we got into Dad’s car, I turned my head to look at him full on. “Dad, what would you say if I told you I don’t think Manuel killed himself?” I asked with a prayer he would be more open-minded than Ian had been.

  He pulled out of the parking place, his eyes fixed on the road. “You’re not only talking about Manuel, are you?” He glanced over at me, his typical frown in its usual place.

  I swallowed hard and shook my head. “I don’t know what’s going on. It’s like Emma is still around. It’s like she’s trying to tell me something.” I wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to share that with Dad. It was out, though. There was no going back.

  He kept his hands on the wheel, his eyes on the road as he drove. “You know my parents died when I was a kid,” he said in a quiet tone, his own grief still present even after so many years. “I don’t know what I believe in regards to the paranormal world but I have seen things in my life that make me question the idea that death is the end of a person’s existence.” He swallowed like a lump had risen in his throat or something. “I’ve seen my parents several times, so I’m not going to tell you that you didn’t see Emma. What I will ask, is if you want to believe that Manuel didn’t kill himself so you can explain away something that causes you pain.”

  I wanted to deny that idea. The problem was, I couldn’t. Emma had been on my mind a lot since I’d moved back to Pittsburgh. Was it possible . . . no. I had seen Emma. There was no question in my mind.

  “She showed me Manuel,” I whispered and told him all that had happened on the day he had come to see me. “I can feel her around me sometimes. It gets so cold, it’s like I’ve been transported to Antarctica or something.”

  Dad pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant and found a place to park, his sorrow-filled eyes still on the road. “Manuel was a good kid, an amazing TA. He was organized and very resourceful. Outside the classroom, a lot of girls had issues with him.” He glanced at me as he moved to get out of the car, waiting until we had both closed the doors behind ourselves before he went on. “I believe you could say he had a wandering eye.”

  I made a face, disliking that kind of guy very much.

  Dad’s lips quirked as he motioned to my expression. “That’s how most girls felt. His most recent girlfriend
told him in front of me that if he ever cheated on her, she would slice off his—”

  I let out a small chuckle and held up my hands to get him to stop. “I get it. He was a player. She wasn’t going to put up with it.” I shrugged a little. “Do you think she would have been able to hoist him up long enough to strangle him?”

  Dad eyed me closely for a bit before he shook his head. “No, Madison. I do not believe that she murdered him. What I believe is that a stupid boy who believed women were there for his pleasure, might have been denied and found that he couldn’t handle the rejection.”

  “Why would Emma have wanted me to see his story if that’s all it was?”

  “I don’t know, Madison.”

  I peered at him from under my lashes. “You don’t believe me,” I said, hurt by that truth.

  He opened the door of the restaurant and stood back to allow me in ahead of him. “Actually, I do.” He guided me through the entrance and stepped in the direction of the line who waited to be seated.

  I stayed next to him, my heart pounding. He’d said he believed me but he didn’t believe that Manuel’s death was anything more than the police believed. It was like he’d told me I was half a liar.

  I flicked my eyes around the restaurant, desperate for some distraction from the turmoil in my head. What I saw was people.

  Some of them were good. Some of them were bad. Every one of us had flaws. Could one of them have known Emma? Could one of them explain to me what was going on?

  I had to know the truth. I had accepted what the police had told me without question two years before. I should have questioned. I should have known that suicide was nothing Emma would have chosen.

  NINE

  Emma Gregory was angry. They had failed her. They were supposed to figure it out. They didn’t understand what she was trying to say.

  Emma’s eyes were fixed on Maddie and her dad as they ate together. How dare they. Maddie had failed her. Maddie didn’t even care what had happened to her.

  Emma’s figure faded until she found herself in one of her brother’s classes. More than anything, she wanted to run over to him and beg his help.

  But Ian wouldn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the laptop on his desk. Why was he ignoring her? Again!

  Her eyes fell on a guy not too far in front of Ian, one who Emma had seen her brother speak to once or twice as she had watched him. She knew they were friends. She would make sure Ian couldn’t ignore her ever again. Not after this.

  The world faded to white for a few seconds before it began to clarify for her again. It was night. The world was icy cold. Her anger was so profound, she felt nothing else.

  The guy she had found in Ian’s class was in the library, his attention fixed on the book in front of him. Studying. Emma knew how to distract him. She was used to the way guys looked at her. She could always draw their attention, no matter what.

  Her figure began to solidify until she felt her body around her. She was no longer translucent.

  She straightened her shoulders and sashayed closer, a small smile on her lips as the guy’s eyes turned to see who walked toward him. For some reason though, he gave her a nod of greeting and went back to his book. Why? Why did they all ignore her? Why did no one care about her?

  The world around her began to flicker until she found herself two years in the past. She was angry then too, her phone in her hand. She had sent a text to Ian, asking him to come and pick her up. He didn’t respond. She would make him pay for that later. Right then, all she wanted was to go for a walk in the woods.

  She sent a text to Maddie next, knowing Maddie would never ignore her. And she was right. Within seconds, Maddie had agreed to start driving to Pittsburgh.

  Okay, four hours. It felt like an eternity to wait. No. There was no way she would stay out in the woods for another four hours. But there he was, right there in front of her. He had found her.

  Her vision flickered back to the present, to the guy from Ian’s class. She would show them all. No one would ever ignore her again.

  She would show them the truth and they would pay. They would all know how much she hated them for ignoring her, for failing her. She would make them bleed, each and every one of them.

  TEN

  Information was something I was good with. Finding things that people had hidden was my forte. Firewalls meant nothing to me. Okay, I’d spent far too much time in front of my laptop recently.

  Every day that week I had gone to work, come home, and did all in my power to figure out what made a ghost come to visit. The trouble with that particular search was the fact there were so many crazy people and liars in the world.

  I had found one site that didn’t look like it had come from a person with delusions. The trouble was, it was for a paranormal investigations firm. That was not something I had the money to even think about.

  It wasn’t Emma’s ghost that bothered me. It was the fact that no one other than me believed Emma hadn’t killed herself. Why was everyone else willing to believe something so unbelievable? Why wouldn’t they stand up and ask questions?

  And who would possibly have done that kind of thing? Everybody had loved Emma. She had friends in every group, a boyfriend who loved her, no one would have wanted to hurt her. Someone had, though. And they had made it look like she had killed herself.

  That was the worst part. To lose her was bad enough. To be made to believe she had given up made it monstrous.

  I almost fell out of my desk chair when someone began pounding on my door. I hadn’t expected to see anybody. I had gotten used to being alone. I hardly noticed it anymore.

  I looked at my phone to see the time and my mouth fell open. It was my birthday. I had forgotten about it entirely.

  “Madison, we’re coming in. I hope you’re decent,” Imogen shouted as she threw the door open.

  The sight of the two of them was like a gift. They were all I needed. They were good friends who had stuck with me even when I was . . . less than social.

  Serena shot an appalled look at my hair and made an imperious motion toward the bathroom. “You get in the shower. We’re taking you out and you’re not arguing,” she said, her smile wide and sweet as she shooed me in that direction.

  For some reason, I complied. It was like the idea of going out with my friends had freed me from a tiny bit of the stress that had taken over in the last few days. And it was my birthday. Doing something fun was practically a law.

  By the time I was showered, dressed, and Serena had done my hair, I almost felt like a normal girl. I was eighteen years old. I was going out for a night of fun with my friends. It was the perfect escape.

  Our landlady stopped us as we got to the door. Darlene was in her seventies with bob-cut gray hair and a face so saggy and lined, it was hard to tell what she had looked like when she was younger. With her smile fixed on us, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  She gave me a hug and slipped me a twenty, waving me off before I could refuse. I loved her for caring enough about me to give me a gift.

  Imogen beamed at me as we all piled into Serena’s little SUV. “You look like nobody’s ever given you a present before,” she said with a half laugh.

  I looked at the cash in my hand and tucked it into my purse. “Emma’s family gave me birthday presents,” I said, recalling how big a deal her family had made of every holiday. It had been so different from my own life, I had hardly been able to understand them.

  Imogen turned around in her seat, the pitch of her voice rising as she spoke. “Are you kidding me? Emma’s family? What about YOUR family? What is wrong with your mom? Why is it that Professor Hopkins seems like such a good guy in class but he ignores his daughter and lets—”

  “Imogen, breathe,” I cut in, holding up my hands like a little kid playing ‘red light/green light’. “My parents have a screwed up relationship. They’ve been divorced as long as I’ve been alive and my mom just refused to put up with him being around at all. I don
’t care. I’m not going to let her ruin my life. It doesn’t hurt her for me to be mad about it. It only hurts me. And anyway, my mom called me earlier to wish me a happy birthday. She was far nicer than usual, so I’m fine with her.”

  She glowered at me, her fluorescent hair practically flashing with the power of her anger. “Fine. You be all Zen about it. I’ll be the berserker on your behalf,” she said with a decisive nod.

  Serena rubbed her hands together. “Count me in on the berserking. The few things I’ve heard about the woman makes me think you being Zen is the best way, though. If it was me, I would have punched her in the face years ago.”

  I laughed, a genuine laugh for the first time all week. “That is so not how you’d react. You strike me as a girl who would have found a home you liked better and made it yours. Nobody could resist you.”

  She clapped her hands and giggled. “You got that right, sweetie. I would have found a Gregory family and turned myself into their third child like you did.”

  Imogen shrugged. “I’m far happier with violence. Let’s plan a trip to Philadelphia so I can smack Madison’s mom upside the head a few times,” she said cheerfully, then turned up the radio as though to keep me from denying her that particular daydream.

  Right then, I was totally fine with the idea of someone smacking my mom. I kind of wanted to do it myself. Mostly, I wanted to live my life to spite her. I didn’t matter to her. She would no longer matter to me.

  I didn’t know where my friends were taking me and didn’t ask. I looked forward to the surprise. It wasn’t something I was usually into. At that time, it was yet another release from stress.

  I raised my brows as we pulled into a park not far from our house. It was the last thing I had expected. That was when it all began to make sense.

  People were all around, crowded around tables of food and drinks under a huge bunch of silver and blue balloons, twinkle lights scattered around all the trees near us. As soon as they saw us, everybody let out a raucous shout.