Chapter 6 The Investigation Begins
By Monday morning, the campus had returned to its usual rhythm or at least pretended to.The news of Clara Reed’s death had slipped into whispers between lectures, coded phrases in hushed tones. People avoided saying murder.
Lila, however, couldn’t unsee the image of Clara’s hand, fingers stiff around that perfect red rose.
She stood in the photography department hallway, staring at the bulletin board. Sign-up sheets fluttered from thumbtacks. “Minor Program Orientation: 4PM Room 108.”
She’d told herself a dozen times it was a bad idea. That stepping deeper into Serena’s world would only hurt. But that world had answers, and she was done pretending she didn’t need them.
When she filled out her name on the form, her hand trembled slightly.
A voice came from behind her. “Serena Rowan’s little sister, right?”
She turned.
A tall guy leaned against the wall, camera slung over his shoulder. Soft brown hair, easy grin, the kind that could slip between charm and mischief.
“I’m Roy,” he said, offering his hand. “Roy Haskins. I was a friend of your sister.”
Lila blinked, wary. “You knew Serena?”
He nodded, looking genuinely sad. “Yeah. We were both in Professor Mercer’s advanced photography class. She used to sit right over there.” He pointed at an empty bench by the window. “Always humming. She was terrible at keeping quiet during shoots.”
That sounded like Serena. Lila’s chest ached.
“She talked about you all the time,” Roy continued. “You were still in high school, right? Said you were the only person who ever understood her weird humor.”
Lila smiled faintly. “She said that?”
“More than once.”
Something about his tone made her trust him not fully, but enough to let her guard drop a little.
“You’re minoring in photography?” Roy asked.
“Yeah. I thought maybe learning what she loved might help me understand what happened.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s brave. Not many people would come back here after what happened.”
“Brave or stupid,” she muttered.
“Same coin, different sides.”
He grinned, and she couldn’t help returning it, though part of her wondered why he’d approached her so easily, so perfectly timed.
Later, she met Asher at the campus library. The place was quiet, almost eerily so, just the faint sound of typing and the hum of air vents above them.
He looked up from his laptop. “You’re late, again.”
“I ran into someone. Roy Haskins. He said he was friends with Serena.”
Asher frowned. “Roy? Isn’t he the guy who does the campus photo magazine?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. He’s so nice,” Asher said cautiously. “Just keep your guard up, okay? I don’t trust anyone who smiles too easily around tragedy.”
Lila raised an eyebrow. “That’s basically everyone here.”
“Exactly.”
He turned the laptop toward her. “So, I found this old student forum pre-merge site from when the art department had its own server. People used to post photography critiques, events, gossip, that kind of stuff.”
Lila leaned closer. The interface looked ancient, dated back several years.
Asher scrolled. “I searched for Serena’s name. She had an account ‘SRowan94.’ Look at this.”
He opened an archived thread. ‘Photo Showcase: Shadows and Roses’.
Serena’s comments were there as usual, cheerful, teasing, full of her voice. “Can’t wait to show my final project! The roses are tricky under low light but worth it.”
Lila smiled faintly. “She always loved roses.”
“Yeah,” Asher said, tone dark. “And apparently, so did her killer.”
He kept scrolling. Dozens of threads, most trivial. Until
“Wait,” he said, frowning. “Here.”
A post dated March 3rd, 11:47 PM.
Serena’s username.
The subject line read. “He won’t stop until red is gone.”
The message body was empty.
Lila stared at the timestamp. “That’s the night before she died.”
Asher nodded slowly. “She posted this less than twelve hours before her body was found.”
“‘He won’t stop until red is gone,’” Lila repeated under her breath. “You think she meant?”
“The red-haired girls,” Asher said. “It has to be connected.”
She leaned back, trying to make sense of it. “But how did she know? She was the first one.”
“Maybe she found out who was planning it,” Asher said quietly. “And it got her killed.”
Lila stared at the glowing words again. He won’t stop until red is gone. The phrasing chilled her, it didn’t sound like a warning. It sounded like something she’d overheard.
A quote.
She shivered. “Asher, what if she heard him say that?”
He looked up. “You mean the killer?”
She nodded slowly. “What if she wasn’t the first? What if there were others before her that no one connected?”
Asher’s expression hardened. “Then we need to find out.”
He started typing rapidly, searching through old local archives, campus news from years ago. But the Wi-Fi lagged, and the spinning wheel taunted them.
Lila leaned forward, whispering to herself, “He won’t stop until red is gone…”
The words felt heavy, rhythmic, like something rehearsed.
She reached for her coffee and froze.
The cup was warm. But she hadn’t bought coffee tonight.
She looked at Asher. “Did you get me this?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Her gaze dropped to the sleeve. A typed message in four words.
“For your late nights.”
Her pulse quickened. :Before she could process the message, Asher whispered, “Lila, look.”
He pointed at the forum screen. The page refreshed suddenly on its own. Serena’s last post blinked, the letters glitching for a moment before a new text appeared beneath it.
“He’s watching again.”
The timestamp read: Today