Watching. Блейк Пирс

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      No, she hadn’t forgotten his name.

      Riley was sleeping deeply and dreamlessly when something jarred her awake.

      What? she wondered.

      At first, she thought maybe someone had shaken her by the shoulder.

      But no, that wasn’t it.

      As she stared into the darkness of her dorm room, she heard the sound again.

      A shriek.

      A voice filled with terror.

      Riley knew that something terrible had happened.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Riley was out of her bed and on her feet before she was fully awake.

      That sound had been horrible.

      What was it?

      When she switched on the light beside her bed, a familiar voice grumbled from across the room, “Riley—what’s going on?”

      Trudy was lying in her own bed fully clothed, shielding her eyes against the light. She obviously had collapsed there in a fairly inebriated state.

      Riley had slept right through her roommate’s arrival.

      But she was awake now.

      So were others in the dorm. She could hear alarmed voices calling out from the rooms nearby.

      Riley went into motion, shoving her feet into slippers, pulling on her robe, and opening their room door. She stepped out into the hallway.

      Other room doors were swinging open. Girls were poking their heads out, asking what was wrong.

      And Riley could see at least one thing that was wrong. About halfway down the hall, a girl was collapsed on her knees, sobbing.

      Riley raced toward her.

      Heather Glover, she realized.

      Heather had been with them at the Centaur’s Den. She’d still been there with Trudy and the others when Riley left.

      Now Riley knew—it was Heather she’d heard screaming.

      She also remembered …

      Heather is Rhea’s roommate!

      Riley reached the sobbing girl and crouched beside her.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Heather—what happened?”

      Sobbing and choking, Heather pointed to the open door next to her.

      She managed to gasp …

      “It’s Rhea. She’s—”

      Heather suddenly threw up.

      Dodging the spray of vomit, Riley stood up and peered into the room door. In the light shining in from the hallway, she could make out something spread out on the floor—a dark liquid. At first she thought it was spilled soft drink.

      Then she shuddered …

      Blood.

      She’d seen blood pooled like this before. There was no mistaking it for anything else.

      She stepped into the doorway and quickly saw that Rhea lay sprawled across her single bed, fully clothed and with her eyes wide open.

      “Rhea?” Riley said.

      She peered closer. Then she gagged.

      Rhea’s throat was slashed almost from ear to ear.

      Rhea was dead—Riley knew that for certain.

      It wasn’t the first murdered woman she’d seen in her life.

      Then Riley heard another scream. For a moment she wondered if the scream might be her own.

      But no—it was coming from right behind her.

      Riley turned, and there in the doorway stood Gina Formaro. She’d also been partying at the Centaur’s Den that night. Now her eyes were bulging and she was trembling all over, pale with shock.

      Riley realized that she herself felt remarkably calm, not scared at all. She also knew that she was probably the only student on the whole floor who wasn’t already in a state of panic.

      It was up to her to make sure things didn’t get even worse.

      Riley gently took Gina by the arm and led her out of the doorway. Heather was still there on the floor where she had vomited, still sobbing. And other wandering students were beginning to make their way toward the room.

      Riley pulled the room door closed and stood in front of it.

      “Stay back!” she yelled at the approaching girls. “Stay away!”

      Riley was surprised at the force and authority in her own voice.

      The girls obeyed, forming a crowded semicircle around the dorm room.

      Riley yelled again, “Somebody call nine-one-one!”

      “Why?” one of the girls asked.

      Still crouched on the floor with a pool of vomit in front of her, Heather Glover managed to croak out …

      “It’s Rhea. She’s been murdered.”

      Suddenly a wild mix of girls’ voices exploded in the hallway—some screaming, some gasping, some sobbing. A few of the girls pushed toward the room again.

      “Stay back!” Riley said again, still blocking the doorway. “Call nine-one-one!”

      One of the girls who owned a little cell phone was carrying it in her hand. She made the call.

      Riley stood there wondering …

      What do I do now?

      She only knew one thing for certain—she couldn’t let any of the girls into the room with the body. There was enough panic on the floor already. It would only get worse if more people saw what was in that room.

      She also felt sure that no one was supposed to walk around in …

      In what?

      A crime scene, she realized. That room was a crime scene.

      She remembered—she was sure it must be from movies or TV shows—that the police would want the crime scene to be as untouched as possible.

      All she could do was wait—and keep everybody out.

      And so far she was being successful. The semicircle of students began to break up, and girls wandered off into smaller groups, disappearing into rooms or forming little clusters in the hallway to share their horror. There was a lot of crying now, and some low, animal-like wailing. A few more СКАЧАТЬ