Chapter 2 The investigation
The official report was posted online Tuesday afternoon, forty-eight hours after Mia’s world shattered. She read it on her phone, standing in the kitchen of her silent apartment, her hand trembling as she scrolled through the cold, official words.
“Accidental drowning. No signs of external trauma. No evidence of foul play. Case closed pending final autopsy results.”
One paragraph. Forty-seven words to dismiss the most important person in her life.
Mia stared at the screen until the words blurred. Her coffee went cold in her trembling hands. Then, with a sound that was half sob, half roar of pure anger, she threw the ceramic mug at the wall. It shattered, spraying dark liquid across the peeling wallpaper.
Ethan. Her Ethan, who had been on the swim team since he was twelve. Who had once pulled a friend fifty yards to shore without even getting tired. Who moved through water like it was his home. He could not have just drowned.
These lazy cops had given up. They didn’t know him. They didn’t care enough to look deeper, to ask the real questions, to see what was so clear to her—that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
Rage burned through her grief like wildfire. Fine. If they wouldn’t find the truth, she would.
The next morning, Mia walked into the police station with a file folder and a video in her hands and a new strength in her spine. She’d stayed up all night, researching and writing down every single thing that didn’t make sense about Ethan’s death. The officer at the front desk barely looked up when she approached.
“I need to file an official appeal to the ruling on Ethan Sullivan’s case,” she said, her voice steady even though her heart was pounding.
The sergeant’s eyes flickered with annoyance. “Ma’am, the case has been closed. The medical examiner’s report was clear—”
“The medical examiner’s report was incomplete,” Mia cut in, sliding the folder and the video across the counter. “Ethan was an experienced swimmer. He knew that lake. This proves he didn’t drown by accident. Reopen the case because someone did this to him.”
The sergeant sighed, but he took the folder. “I’ll give this to the detective in charge.”
It took two weeks of calls, emails, and one angry scene in the lobby that almost got her thrown out by security. But finally, she got the email that made her hands shake all over again.
“Re: Death of Ethan Sullivan - Case Status Update. We are reopening the investigation. A detective will review the evidence. We will contact you if we need you.”
Reopened. They were finally reopening the case.
Mia read the email three times, but her small spark of hope quickly died. The words were cold, like they were just doing her a favor. There was no promise of justice. No feeling of urgency. They were reopening it on paper, checking a box to cover themselves legally. Just the bare minimum required to satisfy her complaint.
She knew how this would go. They’d give the file to some busy detective who would look at it between coffee breaks, make a call or two, and then let the case go cold again when she stopped bothering them.
Well, she would never stop bothering them. And she wouldn’t wait for them to do a job she could do better herself.
Her transfer papers, once a ticket to a happy future, were now a tool. She filled them out with a cold, sharp anger, pressing her pen into the paper so hard it nearly tore. Where it said “Reason for Transfer,” she wrote “Academic opportunities” in neat letters.
She didn’t write “to find my boyfriend’s killer” or “to make someone pay.”
But she thought it with every mark she made.
Her reason for going to St. Augustine’s had completely changed, but the destination was the same.
A week later, she dragged her single, worn suitcase up the grand stone steps of the university’s main administrative hall.
Students streamed past her like schools of expensive fish with their designer clothes, easy and carefree laughter…their entire lives cushioned by privilege she’d never known. She felt their eyes on her cheap sneakers and second-hand jacket, their eyes sliding over her like she wasn't even there.
“Check out the farm girl,” a guy in a fancy sweater muttered to his friend, not even trying to be quiet. “Think she got lost? Maybe she’s looking for her cows.”
His friend smirked. “Maybe she’s here to clean the bathrooms.”
Mia’s face burned, but she kept walking, gripping her suitcase handle so tight her knuckles turned white. She was here for Ethan, not for them. Their words meant nothing. Their cruelty was just background noise.
“Oh, shut up, Leo. Your family bought their way in here two generations ago. Don’t act so special.”
The voice was warm but sharp. The two guys immediately straightened up, their smirks vanishing.
Mia turned. The woman who had spoken was stunning. She had sleek, dark hair and eyes that seemed to see everything. She wore simple, elegant clothes that probably cost a fortune, but she wore them like they were nothing.
“Elara,” the guy named Leo mumbled, staring at his shoes.
“Don’t be pathetic,” Elara Vance said, her voice dismissive. She turned to Mia, her face softening into a warm smile. “Ignore them. Some people are born with silver spoons and no brains. I’m Elara. Welcome to St. Augustine’s.”
“Mia Torres,” Mia said, still thrown off by the sudden rescue.
“Newly transferred?” Elara asked, her gaze curious yet respectful, intrigued without being condescending.
“Yeah. I just got here today.”
“It’s brave, starting over somewhere completely new.” She glanced at Mia’s suitcase with what seemed like actual respect. “Need help finding your dorm?”
“I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”
“Of course.” Elara’s smile widened. “Listen, I’m having a small birthday party tomorrow night at the Omega house. You should come. It’s a good way to meet people who aren’t total wastes of oxygen.” She shot a look at Leo and his friend, who were already hurrying away.
A party. A gathering of the exact kind of people Ethan had known here. It was an opportunity she couldn’t have dreamed of. People talk at parties. They let their guard down. They say things they shouldn’t.
A flicker of guilt pricked at her conscience. This woman was being genuinely kind, offering real friendship. But the memory of Ethan’s face, pale and still in the water, hardened her heart.
She forced a grateful smile. “That sounds really fun. I’d love to.”
“Great!” Elara beamed, looking genuinely happy. She pulled out her phone—the latest model, of course. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the details. It’ll be fun. A proper welcome to campus.”
As Mia said her number, she watched Elara closely. She was polished, confident, and seemed sincerely nice—the kind of person who would stand up for a stranger. The exact sort of person Mia would normally want as a friend. Now, she was Mia’s first real lead into the world that had taken Ethan.
“See you tomorrow, Mia,” Elara said, putting her phone away. “Don’t let the idiots get to you. They’re not worth it.”
She walked off, leaving a trace of expensive floral perfume in the air and a warmth that felt almost genuine. The students who had been mocking her were gone. Mia had her invitation. She had her way in.
She picked up her suitcase and walked toward her dorm. The weight of it was nothing compared to the heavy purpose settling in her chest. The investigation had begun—both the official one that would go nowhere, and her own private hunt for the truth.
Tomorrow night, she would smile and laugh and act like just another new student looking for friends. But the whole time, she would be watching, listening, putting together the pieces the police were too lazy to find.
No matter who you are, she promised silently, her eyes on the rich, careless students flowing around her, I’m going to find you. I made them reopen this case, and I won’t stop until I make you pay.