the screen, though, because l've waited so long for this. A clue. Any clue to those lost months at the Academy.
In spite of my pounding heart, I force myself to catalogue his features. He has shiny dark hair and brown eyes. He has an aquiline nose, and a strong but well-proportioned jaw. He's an objectively handsome prepster.
And the internet is full of photos of him. His dad is a senator, and they're frequently photographed together. Daddy Halsey went to USTSA too, I note. There's a short piece in the Hartford Courant from four years ago, announcing the senator's son's acceptance into the venerable yet secretive program. “Training the next generation of officers, innovators and spies,” it reads.
Or not, apparently. Because this guy turned up at Harkness with Daphne.
Sure enough, when I search for Halsey at Harkness, his name comes up on that research study Daphne told me about. He's still listed as a senior research assistant, whatever that is.
I search him six ways to Sunday, and it’s midnight by the time I realize how exhausted I am. And I'll be up at six o'clock to help Dylan in the dairy barn. I need to sleep.
But first, I make myself look at his photo one more time. It’s another party pic, although I never did find evidence of a boathouse party anywhere. Halsey attends a lot of his daddy's political soirees.
I look him right in the digitized eyes. He's smiling widely, his teeth white, his tie straight. He looks about as dangerous as a well-bred Golden Retriever.
But I know better. And when I stare into his smiling eyes, I feel nothing but cold disgust.
I get up and set the computer on Dylan's desk, and then shut out the light. Back in bed, sleep doesn’t come easily. I don't know what to do with this new information, because it really isn't information. It's just recognition. And dread.
And that's Daphne's ex? What does that even mean?
I bury my face in the pillow and try to sleep.
It works. Mostly. But sometime before dawn I become aware of a presence in the room. My eyes flip open, and the guy is right there, lying next to me in bed, staring at me. And then he smiles, like it's all a joke.
I try to lift my arms to push him off the bed, but I can't. I can't move.
He grins.
I open my mouth and howl out a tortured, strangled sound.
It’s probably my scream that wakes me up for real. I sit up fast, alone in Dylan's bed, sweat pouring off me, my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.
“What the fuck was that?” I gasp into the dark.
"Rickie?" comes a sweet voice. Then there's a gentle tap on the door. "You okay?"
Yup. Daphne’s knock arrives at exactly the wrong moment. Story of my life. "I'm fine,” I call. “Bad dream."
I do not get up and let her in.
She doesn’t knock again.
I start the day in the barn with Dylan, shoveling cow shit while he does the milking. I’ll never be a farmer. I’m not half as interested as Dylan, who’s at the other end of the barn chatting up the cows as he hooks them one by one to the milking thing.
But as summer jobs go, this one is very low stress. We’ve got tunes on the radio, and after the milking I’ll be fed a huge breakfast. So it’s all good.
Even after that horrible night, I almost feel normal. But I must not look it.
“You look tired today,” Ruth Shipley says at breakfast.
“Oh, I’m good,” I insist. “Just stayed up too late watching TikTok videos.”
Daphne shoots me a curious glance. She’s probably wondering why I did some yelling in my sleep. On and off I have nightmares, usually about claustrophobia. Sometimes I dream about getting locked into a closet or a coffin. Lenore is always fascinated.
But last night is the first time I saw a face in one of my bad dreams.
And it was so vivid. I suppose I could pump Daphne for more information about Reardon Halsey. He left the Academy. I left the Academy. Maybe we did so at the same time. It could be important.
But it probably isn’t. And I hate flying the freak flag in front of Daphne. What would I even say? I Googled your ex, and his photo made me almost puke. Please pass the maple syrup. Yeah?
No.
“What’s the plan for today?” I ask instead.
Dylan drains his coffee cup. “You and Chastity are meeting Zach in