Chapter 54 Meeting Detective Mara
Lila was the first to leave when class ended.
She didn’t even wait for Beckett’s final words or for her classmates to start collecting their bags. Her hands were already clutching her notebook, knuckles white, and before the scrape of chairs filled the room, she was out the door.
The hallway felt brighter, the kind of morning brightness that hurt her eyes. Her head pounded from holding in her breath for too long.
“I just need air. Just a walk. That’s all.” She muttered under her breath.
She made her way down the long corridor, her shoes echoing softly against the tiled floor. The closer she got to the exit, the louder the noise became low murmurs, questions, and camera shutters.
When she stepped outside, the courtyard was filled with police cars. Blue and red lights pulsed faintly against the pale stone walls. Students clustered in small groups again, whispering behind cupped hands.
Her chest tightened. Is it time for an investigation? Have they found Eileen?
At the far end of the path, Detective Mara stood with two officers, notebook open, her expression focused. She was speaking to a group of Fine Arts students probably friends of the missing girl. Her tone was calm but there was something sharp in her eyes, the kind of intensity that made you feel like she already knew your answer before you gave it.
Lila took a step back. I don’t want to do this again. She turned slightly, hoping to slip past unnoticed.
“Miss Rowan!”
Her name cut through the air.
Lila froze.
Slowly, she turned. Detective Mara was already striding toward her, boots crunching against gravel. The two officers followed a few steps behind.
“Good morning,” Mara said, though her voice didn’t sound like one. Her gaze flicked over Lila from her pale face to her trembling hands. “I was hoping I’d see you.”
Lila tried to smile. “I… just finished class.”
“I know,” Mara said simply. “Can we talk for a moment?”
The question wasn’t really a question.
Lila nodded, her throat dry. She followed Mara toward a quieter corner near the fountain, the crowd and their whispers fading behind them.
Up close, the detective looked the same with her neat suit, hair tied back, dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t slept either. She still carried that quiet authority that made people stand straighter without realizing it.
“Where were you last night, Lila?” she asked, flipping a page in her notebook.
Lila blinked. “I…uh, I was with a friend. We went out for a bit. Then we came back to campus later in the day.”
“Which friend?”
“Damian Reyes. He’s a senior.”
Mara’s pen paused mid-sentence, her eyes lifting. “The athlete?”
Lila nodded. “We just went shopping. That’s all.”
The detective didn’t reply immediately. Her pen tapped once against the paper, then twice. “And after you got back?”
“I went to my dorm,” Lila said quietly. “I didn’t leave again.”
Mara’s gaze lingered on her face, studying it. “Did you receive anything unusual? A letter, a gift, maybe a message?”
Lila hesitated. Her pulse quickened.
Do I tell her about the text? The words of the message flickered in her mind again:
Her lips parted, then closed again. She could almost feel the rose sticker through her pocket, the one still pressed to the back of her phone, warm against her palm.
She nodded slightly. “There was a message.”
Mara’s pen stopped. “What kind of message?”
Lila swallowed hard. “Just someone saying something strange. Probably a prank.”
The detective’s expression didn’t change, but her voice grew softer. “You’ve received strange things before, haven’t you?”
Lila looked away. Her eyes found the fountain, the ripples, the reflections of flashing police lights. How many times will I have to tell this story?
“Yes,” she said finally. “But I’m trying not to think about it anymore.”
“That’s not how it works,” Mara said.
Lila forced a smile. “Maybe not, but it’s the only way I can breathe.”
For a moment, the detective said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Then Mara took a small step forward. Her voice dropped low, meant only for Lila.
“You’re holding something back, aren’t you?”
Lila’s shoulders tensed.
Mara’s eyes were steady, searching. “You look like someone who’s trying to protect someone else. But I’ll tell you this, Lila, fear can make you protect the wrong person.”
Lila’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She wanted to say you’re wrong, but she wasn’t sure she believed it.
Mara waited, but when Lila didn’t answer, she sighed softly and closed her notebook. “If you remember anything, or if you get another message call me immediately.”
“I will,” Lila said quickly, even though her fingers were trembling.
The detective gave her one last look not unkind, but a knowing look then she turned to rejoin her officers.
Lila stood there for a long moment, her heart still pounding.
Fear can make you protect the wrong person.
The words replayed in her head over and over.
She looked down at her phone. The screen was blank now, but she could still see that message burned behind her eyes sharp, mocking.
She slipped the phone back into her pocket, took a deep breath, and started walking toward the dorms.
But even as she moved, she could feel it the weight of someone’s eyes on her again.
Like the world had stopped whispering and started watching instead.
The campus courtyard was quieter now. Most of the crowd had moved on, though a few groups still lingered whispering and pretending not to stare at the police cars parked by the main building. Lila kept her head low as she left, her bag slung loosely over her shoulder, her fingers nervously twisting the strap.
She hadn’t taken five steps before she heard her name.
“Lila!”
She turned. Asher was striding toward her, his usual calm replaced by visible worry. His hair was slightly messy, his sleeves rolled up like he’d been pacing. The moment he reached her, he looked her over from head to toe.
“What did the detective want?” he asked sharply.
“Just questions,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Routine stuff.”
Asher frowned. “Routine? Lila, another girl is missing. There’s nothing routine about that.”
Lila looked away. “I know.”
They started walking toward her next class. She could feel the heat of his frustration beside her, that quiet, simmering concern that never quite turned into comfort. His tone softened a little.
“Did you tell her about the message?” he asked.
Lila hesitated. He won’t like what I did or didn’t do.
“I mentioned it,” she murmured. “Not everything.”
Asher stopped walking. “Lila.” he exhaled, pressing a hand against his temple. “You can’t keep holding back. Whoever’s sending these messages isn’t just playing games anymore.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t want to live in fear every second. I just want to feel normal.”
“Normal?” Asher repeated quietly. “Hanging around Damian won’t give you that.”
The way he said his name in a flat, cold tone made her chest tighten. “He’s not the problem,” she said quietly.
He gave a dry laugh. “You think so?”
She turned to him, voice firm for once. “He’s been kind. You don’t know him.”
Asher looked at her for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes. “Kind doesn’t mean you're safe with him.”
Lila didn’t respond. He doesn’t understand. Damian makes me forget for a little while he makes me breathe again.
They reached the steps outside the philosophy building. She was about to speak when a familiar voice cut through the tension behind them.
“Should I be flattered you’re talking about me?”