Chapter 13
[Claire's POV]
I pulled my coat tighter as I stepped out of the Academic Affairs building, where I'd just finished meeting with my advisor about arranging memorial services for Jade. The conversation had been difficult—discussing posthumous degree conferral and scholarship funds felt surreal when just days ago, Jade had been worrying about her next rent payment.
My phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: "Jake Harrison confessed. Full details match your dreams exactly. Thank you, Claire. This case is closed."
I stared at the message, feeling a strange mixture of relief and emptiness. For the first time in years, I'd felt truly useful, truly needed. The investigation had given me something real to focus on, something that mattered beyond the endless cycle of parties and hangovers that had defined my existence. Now that it was over, I wasn't sure what came next.
"Claire!" A familiar voice called out behind me.
I turned to see Stella Shaw jogging toward me under a bright pink umbrella, her Coach handbag clutched protectively against her side. Even in the dreary weather, Stella managed to look put-together—her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless despite the humidity. She was the type of person who probably checked her reflection in puddles.
"Hey, Stella," I said, attempting a smile as she caught up to me.
"What were you doing in the Academic Affairs building?" Stella asked, linking her arm through mine with the casual intimacy that had always characterized our friendship. We'd partied together countless times, though I was beginning to realize how shallow those connections had been. "Don't tell me you're actually taking care of graduation requirements. That would be so unlike you."
Her tone was light, but there was something off about her expression—a tightness around her eyes that suggested stress. I'd been too self-absorbed in the past to notice such details, but my recent experiences had sharpened my awareness of people's emotional states.
"I was helping Jade with some posthumous arrangements," I said quietly. "You know, making sure her academic record is in order for her family."
The moment Jade's name left my lips, Stella's face changed dramatically. The color drained from her cheeks, and she nearly stumbled, causing her umbrella to tilt dangerously. Rain splattered across her carefully applied mascara.
"Stella?" I stopped walking, studying her reaction with growing concern. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I..." Stella's voice was barely audible above the sound of rain hitting the pavement. "It's about Jade. Something I did. Something I said."
A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the weather.
"Let's get out of the rain," I suggested, guiding her toward the covered walkway that connected the academic buildings. Once we were sheltered, I turned to face her fully. "Tell me what happened."
Stella's hands trembled as she adjusted her grip on her handbag. "It was about two weeks ago. I was in the laundry room in our dorm basement, collecting my clothes from the dryer. Jade was there too, hanging up some wet things on the drying rack."
She paused, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid.
"The thing is, she hung her wet clothes right next to my Coach bag. Some water dripped onto it—not much, but enough to leave spots on the leather. I got angry and told her to be more careful with other people's expensive things."
I could picture the scene easily. The basement laundry room was cramped and poorly ventilated, with only a few drying racks for the entire dormitory. During Oregon's rainy season, everyone competed for the limited drying space.
"Jade apologized," Stella continued, "but I was having a bad day already. My credit card payment was overdue, and I'd just gotten another threatening email from the loan company. So I... I said some horrible things."
"What kind of things?"
Stella's eyes filled with tears. "I told her she was pathetic, working at some dive bar every night and coming back smelling like cigarettes and cheap cologne. I said she was probably doing more than just serving drinks, if you know what I mean." Her voice broke. "And then I said... God, Claire, I said she should be careful walking around campus alone so late at night. I told her that little girls who play dress-up in broken high heels might get followed home by the wrong kind of people."
My stomach twisted. "Stella..."
"That wasn't even the worst part," she whispered. "When she tried to defend herself, tried to explain that she was just working to help her mother, I laughed. I actually laughed at her. And then I said..." She took a shuddering breath. "I said, 'Be careful walking those dark paths at night, Jade. You never know who might be watching. Someone might decide you're asking for trouble and give you exactly what you deserve.'"
The words hung between us like a poisonous cloud. I felt physically sick, remembering my dreams of Jade's final moments—the terror, the desperation, the way she'd stumbled through the darkness in those ill-fitting heels.
"The girls in the next dorm over keep saying my 'toxic curse' came true," Stella continued, tears streaming down her face. "They're calling me a witch, saying I hexed her or something. I know it sounds crazy, but what if—"
"Stop," I said firmly. "You didn't cause what happened to Jade. Someone murdered her—someone who was already planning to hurt her. Your words were cruel, but they didn't make Jake follow her home that night."
Stella looked up at me with desperate hope. "You really think so?"
"I know so." The confidence in my voice surprised me, but I meant every word. My dreams had shown me the truth of Jade's death, and while Stella's comments had been unconscionable, they hadn't influenced the killer's actions.
Stella wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her makeup. "There's something else, Claire. Something I need to ask you." She glanced around nervously, making sure no one was within earshot. "I need to borrow some money. Two thousand dollars. I can pay you back next month when I get my work-study paycheck, I swear."
Two thousand dollars was pocket change to me—less than I typically spent on a single night out. But something about Stella's desperation made me hesitate.
"What do you need it for?"
"It's complicated," Stella said quickly. "Just some bills that are overdue. You know how it is with student loans and credit cards. Everything piles up so fast."
I studied her face, noting the way she avoided eye contact. "Stella, are you in trouble with those loan sharks again? I thought you learned your lesson last semester."
Her composure cracked completely. "It's not new debt!" she sobbed. "It's the same money, but it's gotten worse. They call it 'interest,' but it's more like extortion. What started as five hundred dollars has turned into this nightmare, and now they're threatening..."
She trailed off, her face flushing with shame.
"Threatening what?"
"They have pictures," Stella whispered. "Compromising photos from when Brandon... when he..." She couldn't finish the sentence, but I understood. Brandon Field, the local loan shark who preyed on desperate college students, was known for demanding more than money from female borrowers who couldn't pay.
"They're going to send the photos to everyone—my professors, my classmates, my parents." Stella's voice was barely audible. "They said if I don't pay by Friday, they'll post them online and email them to the entire university directory."
I felt a familiar tingling at the base of my skull. Something dark was gathering around Stella, something that went beyond simple debt collection.
"Claire, please," Stella grabbed my arm, her fingernails digging into my jacket. "I don't have anyone else. My parents would disown me if they knew about the photos. You're the only one who has that kind of money just lying around. I'm begging you."
Looking into her desperate eyes, I saw the same trapped, terrified expression.