Who I Am With You (Imagination #10) - Staci Stallings Page 0,126

as she recounted the story over and over to each new person. No. Everything was fine when she had left on Thursday. No. No one had contacted her over the weekend about it. It was like this when she’d gotten back. No. She hadn’t seen Hannah. No. She didn’t have Hannah’s number.

The question of if they were having issues as roommates made Taylor stumble a bit, and when she admitted she’d spent the majority of the last week on the couch in the lounge, Greg hated himself for not doing more sooner. Why hadn’t he realized the desperation of the situation? Now, it was clear in the wrecked bedding and the mounds of clothes and belongings strewn about everywhere.

Her books and notebooks lay in discombobulated heaps by the desk. He wondered if they would even be salvageable. The good news was, he had good notes for Chemistry, and he knew Professor Peters in psych would help her out. Cinema wouldn’t be too bad unless her paper had been one of the casualties or collateral damage, whichever the case might be. The only real wild card was Stats, and he knew with some trepidation and anger how hard she had been working on that.

“Okay,” the lead campus police officer said. “I would suggest not staying here until we find this roommate of yours.”

Taylor ran her hand up and down her arm and simply nodded. However, the look on her face said she’d rather go to hell than to stay here. “Okay.”

“Do you need anything?” the other policeman asked.

She looked around in shock and shook her head. “I guess not.”

“Okay,” the first one said. “Well, we’ve got your number, we’ll be in touch.”

They went out with the police who closed the door and put police tape across it. If they hadn’t attracted enough attention already, they surely did now.

“We’re going to interview some of the neighbors,” the second police officer said. “But you all are free to go.”

Nodding, Taylor never moved until Greg gently tugged her with him toward the R.A.’s room at the end of the hall.

“Taylor,” the R.A. said, “if you need a place to crash, you’re welcome to the little futon I have.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay. Thanks.”

It was clear Taylor was no longer thinking very clearly, so Greg decided it was time for him to take charge of the situation.

“Why don’t you come home with me?” he said. “We’ll figure something out.”

Her eyes were like empty, shiny glass. “Oh. Okay.”

Greg took her straight to his car, and Taylor didn’t complain or even question it. She simply followed as the cold wind whipped around her. Greg didn’t say anything on most of the drive though he did keep glancing over at her with concern. That was good because she had no idea what might come out of her mouth if she started talking. Instead, she simply looked out the window at the amber and neon lights of the city she had once loved, the city that it seemed was now doing its best to crush her completely.

“Do you need anything?” Greg asked as they neared his house. “Tooth brush or anything? We could stop in here right quick.”

In all honesty, Taylor couldn’t see forward five minutes. She had no idea what she would need and what she wouldn’t. She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay.”

They pulled up to his house, and Taylor’s five-alarm alert system blared to life. Somehow, she hadn’t remembered the others. But it was clear by the growing used car lot in the driveway and at the curb that she was going to face them all whether she liked it or not.

Coming around the car, Greg opened her door and helped her out. His arm slipped around her for support, and she leaned into the warm strength of his embrace, heedless of how this would look to anyone else on the other side of that door. When they came into the living room, the others were all standing around, hands on hips or wrapped in front of them looking very grim. Clearly Clara and Ryan had already filled them all in on what had happened.

“Taylor?” Wes asked with concern. “Are you okay?”

She nodded but got nothing out. How could she explain that it felt like evil was honestly out to destroy her?

“She trashed everything?” Nelson asked. “Why would somebody do that?”

Taylor had no answer for that, so silence was her only real answer.

“Here, Tay,” Clara said, making a way through them. “Why don’t you come sit down? We’ve got