The Ivies - Alexa Donne Page 0,72

where, thankfully, I find the front desk vacant.

“Shit.” Cataldo drums impatient fingers on the desk, peers around for someone.

“Who do you need?”

“Someone named Cathy is supposed to secure this for me. They said there was a place for it.”

God bless Cathy and her smoke breaks I am not supposed to know about or disclose to Fitzgerald. Everyone has secrets at Claflin, even the staff.

“I know where they mean. We have a secure tech closet. I have a key.” I fish said key out of my bag. I smile at Cataldo, dangling it between my fingers for her to see. “I’ll show you.”

I suck in a breath and hold it as I go to lead her back; if she follows, then she trusts me. Perhaps I am not a suspect after all. But if she doesn’t…

But no, she does. I can breathe again. We make our way to a small room off the main hallway, tucked between the faculty lounge and the security room. It’s long and rectangular, really an oversized closet, lined on three sides with floor-to-ceiling shelves that house state-of-the-art projectors, MacBook Pros, LED televisions, and the like. Really, it’s a tech graveyard, but I hope Cataldo doesn’t notice. It is true that we keep the room secure, though. The ID-making machine sits on a cart against the back wall.

I find a spot on one of the shelves near the doors, move a small box of wireless mice so Cataldo can slide the laptop case into the space.

“Her phone is in there as well. The FBI wants, the FBI gets.”

I give a watery smile to her tepid joke and usher her out. I lock the door and hurry back out front. I need to get Cataldo out before Cathy returns, so I can slip into the tech room unseen.

“I’ll see you tonight at the memorial?” I ask. I want her there for when I nail Beau.

The detective gives a belabored sigh, lingers at the doors. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A shrill ring sounds. “I have to get that.” I smile brightly and wave. “Bye!” I answer the phone, quickly placing the caller on hold, and then watch Cataldo until she disappears down the hallway. Whoever called will have to try again later. I spring into action, go back to the tech room, but I hesitate at the door. Am I really doing this? Definitely breaking the law. Also maybe betraying my friend. If my theory about her laptop password holds, I’ll have access to Emma’s private files, everything.

Something niggles at the back of my brain. I have my key in my right hand. It’s a clunky thing, big square handle.

Like the key I found in Emma’s desk. But there’s no way…

I dig into the pocket of my jeans, for once thankful I own only two pairs, and the key I slipped in there the other day meets my fingers, cool to the touch despite my body heat. Hold it up against my own key. Identical.

Motherfucker.

I slide Emma’s duplicate into the secure tech room door and feel the heavy door give. Any guilt I felt about hacking Emma’s personal files dissolves. I want to know why the hell she copied my key. I slip inside and close the door behind me.

First, I fish out Emma’s phone from the laptop bag’s front zip pocket. Cataldo said the police cracked Emma’s phone password easily, so all I have to do is try her birthday—European style, because she was sophisticated—and her home screen appears. I find the Ivies group text and wince reading back our messages. All caps intensity, carefully chosen emojis, vicious words about peers, each other, exchanged in an endless thread that scrolls back and back and back. Did the cops read every single one of these?

Reading through it, I see the signs I missed. Where I chimed in on something or brought up a new topic, and everyone else just…ghosted the convo until one of them, almost always Avery or Emma, changed the subject. So many times, it’s like I was texting into the ether.

I swallow bile and switch to Emma’s thread with Tyler. It’s lots of nauseatingly cute back-and-forth, also some choice emojis—lots of eggplants and peaches, vom—but nothing suspicious. No accusations Emma was cheating on him. Tyler seems like a perfectly good boyfriend.

What I don’t find is a text chain from the Ivies, the group text they must have had, minus me. I’m sure it exists. They texted her that night.

I put the phone back where I