Chapter 8 Echoes In Glass
The rain started before dawn, a thin, steady drizzle that made the campus look dirty and the grasses were damp. Lila sat on the edge of her bed, the old Nikon resting beside her like a sleeping animal.
The note still lay on her desk, flattened, smoothed, studied a dozen times.
Property of Serena Rowan.
She’d barely slept. The image of that flash outside her window still pulsed behind her eyelids every time she blinked. She told herself it was probably a student, maybe one of the photography majors shooting for a project. But the timing, the message, the note, it had fit together too neatly for her to dismiss.
And then there was the camera.
Mercer’s voice replayed in her mind: It belonged to someone brave.
It wasn’t bravery she felt holding it. It was the weight of something heavy. Memory had a weight, and this one was pressing into her palms like it wanted to be remembered.
By late morning, the drizzle turned to mist.
Lila found herself walking to the photography lab, the Nikon strapped around her shoulder. The corridors were mostly empty, students were still hiding from the weather, or maybe from the tension that had spread across Halden’s campus since the latest body was found.
She could still hear the whispers from last night in her head, another red-haired girl, near the art building. The words had spread like smoke, filling every corner of every hallway.
When she reached the darkroom, she half-expected to find someone there. But it was empty. The air smelled faintly of chemicals and paper.
She flicked on the safety light and set the camera down. Her fingers trembled as she opened the back latch. Inside, she found one roll of undeveloped film.
Her heart beat faster.
If Mercer had given her Serena’s camera, this could be Serena’s last roll.
The thought made her dizzy. She told herself she was being dramatic, that it was probably one of his old student projects but her gut twisted all the same.
She threaded the roll into the developing tank, her movements mechanical, precise, the way Serena had taught her years ago in their backyard when they were kids, dunking film into bowls of water like it was magic. She could almost hear her sister’s voice teasing, “Don’t overexpose it, dummy. You’ll ruin the shadows.”
She smiled faintly at the memory, even as her throat tightened.
When the images finally began to emerge, her smile vanished.
Each frame came to life slowly under the red light. Serena’s eye for light and tension is unmistakable.
First image, a hallway.It was long, dim,any familiar.
Second image, the stairs near the art building.
Third image, a man’s shadow, sharp across the floor.
Lila leaned closer, squinting. The next few photos were fragmented, like bits of glass, a half-open door, a desk then one that made her freeze entirely.
The window.
A narrow office window cracked open just slightly.The reflection of a fluorescent light glowing on the glass.And inside, barely visible the silhouette of a man’s arm, a cup raised as if in mid-gesture.
She recognized the pattern of the blinds.
She had seen that window before.
Professor Beckett’s office.
Her stomach dropped.
She noticed the timestamp in the corner, Serena had taken it the night she died.
Her pulse thudded in her ears.
Beckett. It had to be Beckett.
Lila grabbed her phone and snapped a photo of the developed image, zooming in on the shape inside. But the closer she looked, the less certain she became.
It could have been anyone. A man’s arm. A coffee cup. Nothing more.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
She jumped.
A new text from the another unknown number again.
“ Developing old memories, Lila? Some ghosts should stay in the darkroom.”
Her breath hitched.
She looked around the lab. It was empty.
Only the slow drip of water from a faucet, echoing softly.
She locked her phone, shoved it in her pocket, and packed the negatives away.
When she turned toward the door, her reflection in the dark glass startled her.
For a split second, she thought she saw Serena standing there, same hair, same narrow shoulders just behind her.
Lila spun around. There was no one.
She laughed under her breath. “You’re losing it.”
But her voice didn’t sound like her own.
That night, she couldn’t stay in her dorm. The air felt too heavy, the silence felt too alive. So she ended up at the campus café, where Asher was working late on his laptop.
“Hey,” he said, looking up. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She gave him a tight smile. “You wouldn’t be that far off.”
He frowned. “What happened?”
“Mercer gave me a camera,” she said, sitting opposite him. “An old one. It used to be Serena’s.”
Asher’s eyebrows shot up. “How do you know that?”
She slid the note across the table.
He read it twice, exhaling slowly. “Okay that’s weird.”
“I developed the film,” she continued, lowering her voice. “There was a photo of Beckett’s office. From the night she died.”
Asher stared at her. “You’re serious?”
“I saw the timestamp. It matches. She was there that night.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “So you think Beckett.”
“I don’t know,” she cut in. “But Mercer said the camera belonged to someone brave. Someone who stopped being careful.”
Asher frowned. “That sounds like.”
“Exactly.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
The café was nearly empty. Just the hum of the espresso machine, the faint patter of rain on the windows.
Finally, Asher spoke. “You think Mercer knows it was hers?”
“I don’t know,” Lila whispered. “He looked at me like, like he already knew everything.”
Her phone buzzed again. She didn’t look this time.
Asher glanced toward it. “Who’s texting you?”
“An unknown number,” she muttered. “They sent this.”
She unlocked the screen and slid it across to him.
He read aloud, “Some ghosts should stay in the darkroom.” His expression darkened. “That’s not funny.”
“I don’t think it’s a joke.”
“Lila,” he said quietly, “you need to report this.”
“To who?”
“Campus security, the police.”
“They already think my sister’s case is cold,” she snapped. “They won’t care about a few creepy texts.”
He leaned closer. “Then let me help you.”
Her eyes met his. “You already are. This is the second time you're saying this.”
“I know.”Asher exhaled. “It's because I want you to reconsider it.”
Lila looked away. Outside, thunder rolled faintly in the distance.
Neither of them noticed the faint reflection in the café window, the shape of a man standing in the rain just beyond the glass, watching them.
When she returned to her dorm later, she left the camera on her desk again, but this time she faced the lens toward the wall.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was looking at her anyway.
Every sound felt amplified, the click of her lamp switch, the creak of the pipes, the whisper of rain.
She sat on her bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and stared at the window.
The streetlight outside flickered twice, then steadied.
She reached for her phone to text Asher, to tell him she was fine but her screen was already lit.
A photo was sent to her. Without any message or caption. Just a new image of her dorm window taken from outside.
And in the reflection, her own face, staring back, terrified, with a camera in her hand.
Except she hadn’t taken it.
She hadn’t even touched the camera since she turned it to the wall.
Lila’s breath hitched. She felt like screaming, running away from school and never coming back. She was too scared to call her mother.
Her sister's killer is definitely after her and she could feel it. With a lot of faces on campus, she just doesn't know who to trust anymore.