Very Bad Things

by Susan McBride

  Like that wasn’t the understatement of the year. Mark expected Wharton to shadow him into the building, right to his father’s door, but the campus security chief got a call on his walkie-talkie and sped off toward the dorms, leaving Mark to go it alone.

  Mark swallowed hard as he stared at the engraved brass plate on the double doors.

  HEADMASTER GREGORY M. SUMMERS, PHD.

  Yep, his dad must be pretty damned pissed.

  He pushed open the outer doors, entering the reception area normally manned by poodle-haired secretary Naomi. Only Naomi was nowhere in sight. Probably still out to lunch.

  Almost immediately, the inner door swung wide and Greg Summers appeared, holding it open. A tall man wearing the blue uniform of the Barnard police emerged, hat in hand. “I appreciate that you came to see me first, Captain Franks,” Mark’s dad was saying. “I promise that campus security will look into the matter. I’ll be in touch when we have any information.”

  “Much obliged,” the police captain said, scrutinizing Mark’s bruised face before he tucked his hat back on his head and left.

  As soon as the outer double doors clicked shut, Mark’s father hustled him into his office. He didn’t say another word until he’d locked them in. Then he frowned at Mark. “Mind telling me what the hell’s going on around here?”

  Mark touched his aching jaw. “You want to know about the fight?”

  “I want to know about everything.”

  Mark was taller than his dad and far broader in the shoulders but somehow his father still intimidated the crap out of him. “You always taught me to stand up for myself. That’s all I did.”

  “That isn’t all, Mark. You and I both know that.” Gregory Summers’s forehead bunched above his tortoiseshell glasses as he walked around his desk and settled into his leather chair. “Be straight with me, okay? No bullshit.”

  Why did it feel like this was about more than the fight? Mark sat down across from his father. “I’m here because I kicked Steve’s ass, right? Has he got Ambassador Getty threatening to sue the school?”

  “No one’s threatening anything,” his dad replied. “Steve Getty’s lucky to be here, all things considered.”

  Mark wondered what kind of trouble Steve Getty had caused to get booted from so many boarding schools before Whitney. Was it cheating? Smoking pot? Had he stolen something? But Mark knew his dad wouldn’t tell him, and whatever Steve had done wouldn’t be found in his transcripts either. That was how it worked for the sons of politicians: their fathers donated a tidy sum for a new computer lab or football field and any charges of misconduct disappeared from their records.

  “Steve’s been an asshole since he got here,” Mark said, and rubbed slick palms along the crease of his khakis. “So don’t ask me to apologize—”

  “Apologize?” His dad cut him off. “You think I brought you here so I could force you to tell your teammate you’re sorry?” Gregory Summers sighed. “If this was just about a fight it would make things much simpler.”

  Mark hated seeing his dad look so upset. Not an hour ago, Katie had looked at him much the same way. How could things have changed so fast in just a few days? It had all started with the damned party. He wished like hell it had never happened.

  Oh, crap. That was it, wasn’t it?

  “You heard about the party,” Mark said, and wondered if his dad knew about the photo, too. “It wasn’t any big deal. Just some guys from the hockey team celebrating.”

  “Really?” His dad cocked his head. “Are you sure about that?”

  Mark winced. His father knew about the girls.

  His nose began to drip, and he reached up with his sleeve, smearing blood on his cuff. “All right, so there may have been a couple of townies there. Steve snuck them in. I didn’t know who they were. I had nothing to do with them.”

  “Mark,” his dad said, like he didn’t buy it.

  “I swear,” Mark said, but he was sweating.

  “Then why was a Barnard police officer just in my office asking about someone named Rose Tatum who apparently went to a party at my house last Saturday night?”

  “I didn’t even know the girls’ names,” Mark said, wondering if she was the one in the photograph. “Did she steal something from the house?” He asked the first thing that came to mind. Had she stolen his medallion?

  “No, that’s not why Captain Franks was here.” His dad took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked afraid, Mark thought, really freaked out. “Rose Tatum’s roommate reported her missing. She hasn’t been seen since Saturday evening.”

  “What?” Mark shook his head, hardly able to swallow. The girl was gone? His dad couldn’t possibly think he had something to do with it. “Look, I barely saw the girls,” Mark said, and met his dad’s eye. “Talk to Steve. He must know them. He brought them onto campus. I figured he took them home.”

  “I’m told you were the last to see her.”

  “Me?” Mark blinked, completely caught off guard. “Did Steve say that?”

  “It’s what the girl’s roommate told the police,” his father explained. “She said that when she left, Rose was ‘getting busy’ with the headmaster’s son.”

  “But I didn’t—” Mark started to deny the accusation, only to have his father’s stare shut him up fast.

  “I’ve seen the photo of you and the girl, courtesy of Mr. Getty. How drunk were you that night, Son?”

  Mark’s chest filled with red-hot anger. “I wasn’t drunk! Steve handed me a beer before I passed out. He must’ve slipped something in my cup. There’s no other explanation.” Mark paused at the disappointed look on his father’s face. “I’m telling the truth.”

  His dad’s eyes narrowed on him. “You were drugged by your teammate?”

  “Yes.” Mark was sure of it.

  “So you have proof?”

  “No.”

  His father sighed. “I see.”

  But Mark could tell that he didn’t. That knot in the pit of Mark’s stomach kept growing. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “It’s not that.” His dad pinched the bridge of his nose again, something he did when he was nervous and trying hard not to show it. “It’s keeping everything from blowing up. You have to think harder about that night. You have to try—”

  “I’ve tried! Steve must have spiked my beer with roofies, Special K … hell, I don’t know, something,” he insisted, because it was the only thing that made sense. “He’s out for blood, Dad. I mean, it’s never been good between us, not since his first day on campus. But I didn’t know he was so hard-core. Yeah, he wants to be starting forward, not second line, so he’ll get the attention of recruiters and scouts. But it’s more than that. It’s like he wants to take everything I have away from me.”

  “You can’t remember anything?”

  “I was talking to Charlie.” Mark stood up, too frustrated to stay put. “I felt like I was about to throw up. I wanted some air. The next thing I know, it’s morning, and I’m in Annalisa’s room with my clothes off.” He fell back into the chair, exhaling loudly. “If I’d cheated on Katie, I wouldn’t forget it. I’d own up to it, you know I would. But I didn’t.”

  “So the picture’s a fake?” his dad said.

  Mark shrugged. He didn’t know how to answer. “I didn’t participate willingly. I know that for sure.”

  For a long moment, his father looked at him, saying nothing. The phone started ringing, but he ignored it. When it stopped and rang again, he muttered, “Where the hell is Naomi?” But he didn’t answer it. He loosened his tie and the button at his collar. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, but his dark eyes were grim. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah?” Mark wanted so badly to believe him.

  “Maybe Rose Tatum will turn up and it’ll all blow over.”

  Mark thought of the way the cop who’d left his dad’s office had stared at him, and he swallowed hard. “The police don’t think I have something to do with her disappeari
ng?”

  When his dad didn’t answer, Mark shook his head.

  “No way, that’s crazy!”

  Even as he said it—even though he believed it himself—something inside his gut twisted. Because he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, could he? The more he tried to remember, the more that night became a big, fat blank.

  “Just lie low for a while,” his father said. “Go to classes and to practice, then straight home. No more fights. No girls. You got it?”

  “Yeah,” Mark replied.

  “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”

  “Sure,” Mark said without much conviction. He had a really bad feeling about this whole thing. It wasn’t like his mom leaving or his dad changing jobs; it was much, much worse and it scared him shitless.

  The phone rang again. This time, his father picked it up.

  And Mark took the opportunity to bail.

  Within ten minutes of Katie opening the box and finding the hand, Amelia House was swarming with campus cops. Tessa wondered who’d show up next. The police chief from Barnard? Dr. Arnold from the cadaver lab? That tired-looking actor from CSI: New York?

  Her chin jerked up as the French doors to the den opened, and she realized she’d left someone off her list: the school shrink.

  “Dr. Capello, thanks for coming so quickly. The headmaster thought it would be a good idea for you to chat with the girls,” Mrs. Gabbert said as she ushered the psychiatrist into the room where Tessa and Katie had been stashed after the security chief had finished grilling them. For some reason, he hadn’t seemed at all happy with Tessa’s replies.

  Do you have any idea who sent the package?

  Isn’t it your job to find out?

  Do you know why someone would target Miss Barton?

  Because she dates that jerk Mark Summers?

  Are you aware if Miss Barton has recently received any harassing emails or texts?

  Does that include hurl-inducing love notes?

  Tessa heard the security chief mumble “Smart-ass” under his breath.

  “Can I get you anything, Lisa? Coffee, tea, water?” Mrs. Gabbert rambled on. Her face was red and she kept kneading her hands. She looked on the verge of a heart attack.

  “Thanks, Estelle, but I’m good.” Dr. Capello smiled thinly. “I’ll take it from here if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly.” Mrs. Gabbert nodded and left the room.

  “How’re you both doing?” Dr. Capello asked, and pulled a chair nearer the sofa where Tessa and Katie sat.

  “I’m all right,” Tessa said. “But then I’m not the one with the secret admirer.” She glanced at Katie’s pale face and the tissue she was pulverizing in her lap.

  “How about you, Katie?” the doctor asked, sitting down and crossing her legs. Her dark hair was pulled off her face in a ponytail, and she had bangs that made her look more like a Whitney student than a grown-up. She was even wearing a burgundy jacket that was a dead ringer for their school blazers. All that was missing was the crest.

  Katie turned teary eyes on the doctor. “I’m pretty freaked out. Who’d do something so twisted?”

  “I don’t know,” Dr. Capello answered. “Someone who needs help.”

  “Someone who needs a padded cell, you mean,” Katie said. Her fingers shook as she shredded the tissue. “What I don’t get is why they’d send something like that to me? The security chief acted like I’d done something to bring it on.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Dr. Capello told her. “You can’t control what other people do. It’s not your fault this happened.”

  Katie bit her lip, nodding.

  Tessa watched the exchange, keeping quiet. Every time she sat in a room with Dr. Capello she had to remind herself that no matter how caring and nice the shrink seemed, she worked for the headmaster. Everything that anyone told her wound up in a file, property of Whitney Prep.

  “How do I explain this to my mom?” Katie asked, and her eyes filled with tears. “How am I ever supposed to feel safe again?”

  “No place is safe,” Tessa said, pushing hair behind her ears. “Anyone can find you if they really want to. All they have to do is Google. If you really don’t want to be found, you have to drop off the grid like you don’t exist—”

  “Stop, Tessa! You’re only making things worse!” Katie gave her a scathing look.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault! Blame Big Brother.”

  “It’s completely normal to be afraid after what you’ve gone through,” Dr. Capello said. “But the headmaster has campus security working overtime, and I’m sure the Barnard police will get involved as well.”

  “You think they’ll catch whoever did it?” Katie asked.

  Dr. Capello nodded. “I do.”

  “Get real.” Tessa snorted. “People get away with stuff all the time around here. And if their parents can’t buy them out of it, they just yank them from school and they start all over again somewhere else.”

  “You think someone from Whitney cut off that girl’s hand?” Katie asked, looking horrified.

  “Why’s that so hard to imagine?” Tessa said, wondering how her friend could be so naive. The school was full of spoiled rich kids who’d been raised by nannies and used as pawns in their parents’ divorces. To say they had issues was an understatement. “It could be anyone, right, Dr. Capello? You know things about us that no one else knows. Everyone tells you their deep, dark secrets. I’ll bet some are even creepier than this.”

  The school shrink leveled her gaze on Tessa. “I understand why you’re cynical,” she said. “You’ve been through a lot more than most.”

  Maybe Dr. Capello meant to sound sympathetic, but Tessa heard only pity in her voice, and it got her back up.

  “So whose hand is it?” she said, sure that Katie was wondering the same thing but was too afraid to ask. “Is it that girl in the sex pic with Mark Summers?”

  “Tessa!” Katie turned a shade paler.

  But Tessa didn’t quit. “It’s the same rose tattoo, isn’t it?” Did Katie want to pretend that there wasn’t a connection? “Does anyone know her name?”

  “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Dr. Capello replied.

  Tessa turned to Katie. “Didn’t your boyfriend say she was someone Steve Getty brought to his party?”

  “Would you stop dogging Mark!” Katie snapped. “He had nothing to do with this.”

  “I didn’t say he did.” Tessa was a little surprised that Katie defended him, especially after what Mark had done to her.

  “Drop it, okay?” Katie went to the window, pushing back the drape. There was a swirl of red and blue lights as a police car pulled up out front. “Will the cops take the box with them?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Capello said. “They’ll need to examine it to find answers. I’m sure they’ll piece everything together soon enough.”

  “Piece together, huh?” Katie dropped the drape. “Where’s the rest of her?” she asked, a pained expression on her face. “She wasn’t alive when her hand was cut off, was she?” Katie swallowed. “Whoever she is, she’s dead, right?”

  Dr. Capello didn’t answer. “I’m just very sorry you have to deal with something as horrible as this,” she said.

  Tessa wanted to laugh. What a lame reply! Katie had to know the girl was dead. Otherwise, there’d be a zombie chick walking around without a hand. That was the problem with everyone at Whitney. They liked to pretend bad things didn’t happen. They acted like everything was picture perfect inside the gates.

  Only Tessa knew better than anyone that it wasn’t true. Bad things happened to everyone, everywhere. They were just easier to hide when you had money.

  “Campus security will keep an eye on Amelia House, and if you’re afraid to go somewhere by yourself, an officer will tag along, okay?” Dr. Capello was saying. “If you need to talk any time, day or night, call me.” She gave Katie a pat on the arm.

  Katie nodded.

  “You too, Tessa.” The shrink turned her dark
eyes on Tessa.

  “Right.”

  Tessa just wanted everyone to go away and leave them alone.

  But even after the school shrink took off and the Barnard police had removed “that nasty parcel,” as she’d heard Mrs. Gabbert refer to it, the campus cops hung around Amelia House. Mrs. G. was so skittish she offered to let one of the cops sleep on the couch in the den. Tessa found that kind of funny since the Whitney rule book noted that Boys are not allowed beyond the foyer in the girls’ dormitories and may only remain there so long as the housemother is present.

  She guessed rules went out the window when a student got a box with a severed hand. Though Mrs. G. was hardly the only one flipping out.

  Tessa couldn’t even get Katie to leave their room for the rest of the day. The headmaster had given them permission to play hooky, and Tessa wanted to get outside once the rain stopped. “Let’s hit the student center,” she said. “Grab a cup of coffee and a stale doughnut. You’ll feel better if we just do normal things.”

  “You think coffee will make me feel normal?” Katie frowned, hugging a ragged stuffed bear that she’d brought to boarding school with her. “What if the psycho’s there, watching me?”

  “So you’re never going to leave the dorm?”

  “I will when they catch him,” Katie said, looking at her like she was nuts.

  Katie wouldn’t even go to the bathroom by herself, and she made Tessa stand guard when she took a shower that night. Even though Tessa didn’t let anyone near her, Katie emerged white-faced and scared. She claimed she’d seen shadows outside the frosted glass door, like someone had walked past it, though Tessa assured her that no one had been anywhere near.

  At bedtime, Katie insisted they leave the closet light on or she couldn’t go to sleep. It had been such a long day and Tessa was pretty bleary-eyed, so she went along with it. She wasn’t sure when they’d finally drifted off. Katie hadn’t gotten off the phone with her Mom until midnight, and then she’d spent another hour texting Mark. It was still dark outside when Tessa heard Katie’s whimpers.