How Perfect You Are (Carlson College Mysteries Book 1) Page 6

  “I think I know,” Amber said suddenly, to both mine and James’s surprise.

  “You do?” I said, bewildered. “Who?”

  “Well, I don’t know who, exactly. But don’t you think this might have something to do with those weird pictures on Jenna’s Instagram? Or the texts?”

  “Wait, what?” James asked as I felt my face pale. In all of the excitement of the day, I had honestly all but forgotten about the pictures and texts. Amber quickly filled James in on the strangeness of the previous day, while I provided occasional clarification.

  “And the window that was opened when I woke up from my nap,” I added as Amber finished. “My door was shut when I don’t remember closing it, and the window neither of us think we touched was suddenly open. But, guys, half of these things hinge on me just not remembering something. Maybe I left the window open and forgot. I guess I could have cleaned my brush and forgotten all about it. Maybe I’m just losing my mind.”

  “Maybe. But what about the texts and pictures? All of these things together make a pretty strange picture, you have to admit,” James pointed out.

  “I know. Amber and I even talked last night about it, but I don’t see what we can do. We have no proof anyone has been coming in the house, or anything like that. Just little things that are off. Nothing we know of has been stolen or damaged. We can’t prove who took the pictures. And the text came from a blocked number. Plus, it’s not threatening or anything,”

  “Unfortunately you’re right,” James agreed. “I don’t think the police would be able to do anything since there’s no proof a crime has been committed.”

  “So what’s Cassie supposed to do? Just let some creep stalk her quietly in the background?” Amber sounded exasperated.

  “No, not at all,” James replied, his voice calm. He ran his hand through his dark hair. “I think,” he began slowly, “that you need to be extra alert over the next several days.”

  “Alert? Well, of course she-” Amber started, but James deftly cut her off.

  “Look for anything out of the ordinary,” he said, ignoring Amber and addressing me directly. “Pay attention to who is paying attention to you. Classmates, random people on campus, the guy behind you in line for coffee, whoever. Keep your phone handy and take notes about anything odd. Hell, take pictures, even. Maybe we can put all of that information together and get an idea of who it might be. Stalkers don’t generally pick someone completely random to start following, I don’t think, so it’s probably someone you know.”

  “Someone I know? That might be even more scary than it being a stranger,” I gulped.

  “Tell me about it,” Amber shivered. She reached and plucked Willow from the ground as she tried to scurry by. Holding the mildly resistant cat to her chest, Amber looked from James to me.

  “Wait a second,” she said suddenly. “You don’t think it could be this friend of Jenna’s, do you? Robby?”

  “I seriously doubt it,” I replied. “I just met him today, and prior to that I’m pretty sure he had his sights set on Jenna. I’m kind of like the consolation prize in that scenario.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it was all some kind of a ploy to get to meet you. Befriend one of your friends, and he was bound to be introduced to you eventually!”

  “That sounds like it would have been an...involved process, to say the least,” I shook my head, strands of damp hair clinging to the sides of my neck. “Why not just...come up and start talking to me, if he’d seen me around and wanted to meet me?”

  “Cassie, this person, whoever it is, is clearly deluded,” Amber rolled her eyes. “You can’t assume they’d react the way a normal person would. Maybe, in their mind, you would reject them if they came across too strong so they had to come up with a more subtle way of getting to know you. So they quietly followed you for a few days or weeks until they saw who your friends were, found an in with one of us, and waited until a natural introduction occurred!”

  “God, Amber, since when did you become so paranoid? This sounds like something Jenna would come up with,” I half laughed, though her words weren’t really that funny. In fact, they were kind of freaky to imagine.

  “She’s not necessarily wrong,” James mused. “I mean, we don’t know who this is. It could be anything from an extremely misguided series of pranks, like you originally thought, all the way up to an honest to God stalker. And let’s be honest. Taking your hair from a hairbrush...does that seem like something a sane person would do, even as a prank?”

  “Uh, no,” I admitted. “It does not. But if this person is that obsessed with me, how in the world have I not noticed it yet?”

  “Well, that’s what your new focus is. Watch who watches you,” James reminded me. Sighing loudly, I wandered over to the refrigerator and opened it. Bent at the waist, I pushed the contents around for a moment until I found what I was looking for.

  “Is it too early for wine?” I asked as I extracted a bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator. “I have no idea how, but this whole thing has gone from bottom of my list of concerns all the way to the top. I don’t like it.”

  Amber was already reaching for wine glasses. “Definitely not too early. In fact, I think you’re a little behind.”

  10

  When my alarm went off Monday morning I groaned loudly. The previous day had passed painfully slowly. I had spent a frustrating percentage of my time either mulling over the strange events of the weekend or waiting for something else to happen. Work had been slow, which meant Susan had been fussing over little things she normally never gave a second glance, further adding to my stress.

  At first I had been relieved when my shift was over, but when I got home I found that I was even more restless without the distraction of work, so I’d wound up organizing my dresser drawers, cleaning my keyboard, deleting old emails, and several other menial tasks I’d been putting off. I’d even proofread Amber’s run-on sentence heavy midterm essay, something I’d told her I was absolutely not going to do. Staying busy and organizing things seemed to help me feel slightly better.

  Amber had done her best to distract me, as well. She let me have my choice of Netflix movies, even managing to keep from critiquing what she usually called my “appallingly bad” taste. Later, she ordered Mexican from our favorite place and replaced the bottle of wine we had polished off the day before. I appreciated her efforts, but her constant watching of me had made me feel even more anxious, so I had finally turned in early. Sleep hadn’t come easily, though, and I’d spent much of the night tossing and turning.

  I managed to fight off the exhausted feeling that threatened to keep me in bed all day after hitting snooze only once. After quickly dressing, I made my way downstairs. I started a pot of coffee since it seemed Amber was still in bed. I fed Willow and grabbed a banana for myself. Then, after filling up my travel mug to the brim, I hurried to my car.

  My morning commute to campus was blissfully uncrowded, and I found that the sight of Carlson College on a beautiful fall morning did a lot to lift my spirits. The school was medium sized, though town itself had a year round population of only about 5,000. Between the college and the number of tourists that flocked here in the summer for our cooler temperatures, in the fall for the beautiful leaves, and the winter for the snow and skiing, though, the town rarely seemed that small.

  The college was also growing in reputation. It boasted several strong programs, and admissions were becoming more and more competitive. The beautifully landscaped campus, with its old brick buildings, expansive grassy spaces, abundant flower beds, and towering oak trees did a lot to boost its popularity as well.

  My first class that morning was British Lit, followed later on by my much loathed geology class and lab. I normally also had a philosophy class on Mondays, but my professor was starting his fall break early and given us instructions to “muse about life” instead of coming to class. I would be musing during an extra shift at work. Spending time around Susan was always good for making you wonder where yo
u’d gone wrong in life.

  When I made it to first class my professor wasn’t there yet, so I slipped into my usual seat and pulled out my copy of Wuthering Heights, which we were currently studying. I was flicking through it, idly thinking about how much I hated it, when I heard my phone chime.

  Pulling it out of my bag, I felt my heart sink instantly. Unknown number. I sighed. I had been hoping that nothing strange would happen and I could put the oddities of the weekend behind me. It seemed that was not to be.

  Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad!

  A Wuthering Heights quote. Of course. I wasn’t sure whether to be more annoyed that someone was watching me closely enough to know what book I was reading for class or that they were quoting what was possibly my least favorite book of all time.

  “You are driving me mad,” I muttered under my breath. Remembering suddenly that I was supposed to be more aware of my surroundings, I calmly put my phone down and glanced around the room. Most of my classmates were either tapping away on their phones, paging through the book trying to finish the reading at the last minute, or chatting quietly with one another. No one seemed to be paying me any special attention, or any attention at all for that matter.

  I felt a rush of annoyance. Emboldened by my anger, I picked up my phone and replied.

  Who is this?

  As I waited tensely for a reply my professor came striding into the room. Tall and trim, with a neat white Van Dyke beard, sparkling gray eyes, and an inexplicable perpetual tan, Dr. John Mallory was known on campus as something of a silver fox. At least half of the girls in my class were madly in love with him.

  I was actually well acquainted with Dr. Mallory, a fact that caused no end of jealousy within his fan club. He and my grandmother had volunteered together with several different organizations since I was in elementary school. Add that to his role as my academic advisor and that naturally meant that I was on more familiar terms with him than most of my classmates. I often wondered what his fans would think if I told them I was actually pretty sure good old Dr. Mallory carried a secret torch for my grandmother.

  “Good morning!” Dr. Mallory’s clear voice echoed across the room. I glanced back at my phone. No reply. I quickly stuck it back in my bag and tried to focus on the lecture.

  “Now, in chapter twenty, we find Heathcliff taking in Linton,” Dr. Mallory was saying. I idly tapped out a few notes on my laptop, half listening, half wondering if it was worth sneaking a glance at my phone. Dr. Mallory had a strict no phones policy that I was certain he would not bend even for the granddaughter of his secret beloved. Since I sat in the front row I decided against it, but the suspense was killing me. I wondered briefly if I could set my phone up to forward texts to my email.

  “Miss Morgan?” I heard Dr. Mallory’s voice say my name. My head snapped up.

  “Sorry, what?” I asked, trying to ignore the tittering of my classmates.

  “I was asking,” Dr. Mallory repeated kindly, “if you had any thoughts on Heathcliff’s motivations in this chapter.”

  Blessedly, I was able to come up with a somewhat cogent answer, though I was aware it wasn’t nearly as thoughtful or insightful as my usual contributions.

  “Good,” Dr. Mallory agreeably moved on and spared me from having to flounder more. “Now, I’d like you to split into your discussion groups and work through some of these guided character forms. This should be helpful to you as we prepare to begin your literary analysis projects next week after break. They may also be useful as you finish your midterm essays.”

  I stood up and drug my chair over to the spot by the window where the three other students in my discussion group were waiting. Sam, the only other one who ever did the reading in our group, looked relieved to see me. Hannah was idly picking at her nail polish, while Stephen looked to be half asleep.

  “Hey Cassie,” Sam smiled. “Did you hate that last chapter as much as I did?”

  “Oh, yeah. Heathcliff is such a pig. I don’t know why anyone considers him a romantic character,” I rolled my eyes while settling myself into my seat.

  “He’s rich, duh,” Hannah pointed out.

  “Yes, well, that alone does not make him a good person, or a romantic character. Shylock’s also rich, and you don’t see anyone writing fanfiction about him,” Sam argued.

  While Sam and Hannah began a surprisingly intense debate over Heathcliff’s worthiness as a romantic lead, I slipped my phone out. I could see that I had a new message, but there was no preview available. Of course.

  “Well, group 4, tell me, what wonderful insights do you have for me today?” Dr. Mallory’s voice behind me startled me, causing me to jump slightly in my seat. I bumped my bag, knocking it to its side and sending several books and pens sliding out.

  “Oops,” I blushed, crouching to gather my things. When I returned to my seat I noticed Dr. Mallory watching me with a slightly concerned look. Luckily, he chose to not say anything, and I was able to calm myself slightly while listening to Sam discuss Heathcliff’s character flaws in great detail. My thoughts, however, were never far from the unread text message that was waiting for me on my phone.

  An hour later, class was blessedly over. I hadn’t had a chance to check my phone again, as I was all too aware of Dr. Mallory’s eyes flicking my way every so often. When we were dismissed I shoved my book and binder into my bag and made a beeline for the door. Unfortunately, I got stuck in the herd of students all trying to leave at once.

  “Cassie, hold on for a moment, would you?” Dr. Mallory asked while I waited for the line to thin. Sighing inwardly, I turned and made my way to the podium where Dr. Mallory was leaning nonchalantly.

  “Hi, Dr. Mallory,” I said politely.

  “Hello,” Dr. Mallory replied pleasantly. “How’s life, Cassie? Everything okay?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I answered quickly, hoping this wouldn’t take long. “Fine.”

  “Are you sure? Because I rather missed your usual vivid diatribe against Miss Bronte. There was barely a peep out of you today,” Dr. Mallory went on.

  “Long weekend,” I offered with a shrug. “Trying to keep up with assignments and work, while managing to maintain some semblance of a social life, and all that.”

  “I see,” Dr. Mallory nodded. “Well, don’t burn yourself out, my dear. Give my best to your grandmother. Where is she now?”

  “Belize still, I think,” I replied. “She’ll be back in Carlson for Christmas, though. You should catch up with her then!”

  “Belize! Sounds marvelous. Always did have a thirst for adventure, your grandmother,” he said fondly.

  “Yeah, good old Eileen,” I grinned. “Anyway, Dr. Mallory, I’ve got to run. Geology calls,” I explained, eager to be able to check my phone.

  “See you Wednesday,” Dr. Mallory smiled. With a quick wave, I hurried out into the hall and made my way outside. The sun was bright, and I had to duck under the overhang of the building in order to be able to read my screen.

  I’m your friend, of course, the message read.

  That narrowed it down not at all.

  Which friend? I don’t have this number in my contacts, I replied.

  Which friend? Cassie, I’m hurt. I’m such a good friend to you, and you can’t even guess who I am? Came the almost immediate reply.

  An odd tingling sensation ran down my back. I was actually talking to this creep. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem keen to just volunteer their name, rank, and serial number. I’d have to keep trying.

  Can I have a hint?

  I began walking towards the science building where my geology class was held, my gaze bouncing from my phone screen to the sidewalk in front of me.

  Don’t worry, Cassie. Soon, you’ll realize exactly who I am. You’ll wonder how you could have been so blind. Speaking of, have you ever considered LASIQ? Your eyesight, I’m sorry to say, is terrible.

  I froze, the tingling feeling increasing tenfold.

  What do you mean?

 
Your glasses- they’re quite thick! I suppose since you usually wear contacts I never realized how poor your vision was. Don’t worry about that, though, my vision is excellent. I see how perfect you are.

  My glasses! How could I have forgotten? They’d been missing since Friday, but with everything else that had been going on I just assumed I had misplaced them. I rarely wore them except when I was working late at night, and I honestly hadn’t missed them.

  Something else about the message also bothered me. I scrolled back up in the message thread and reread the original message. My so called friend had used the same expression, “how perfect you are,” there, too. It sent chills down my spine.

  You took my glasses? Why?

  I want to know everything about you. I’m the only one who cares enough to learn everything there is to know about Cassie Anne Morgan.

  I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Like a rock in the river, I suddenly couldn’t move. People continued to stream around both sides of me. I glanced around, wondering if my panic was obvious to anyone else. Up to this point I had been annoyed. A little uneasy, perhaps. But now things had suddenly become all too real. I was scared.

  My head was pounding and I felt dizzy. For a horrifying moment I felt like I might pass out. Then I heard a familiar voice say my name.

  “Cassie? Cassie, are you okay?” James suddenly appeared beside me, looking down at me with a worried expression. I managed to shake my head.

  “Actually, I’m not doing so great,” I answered meekly. James draped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me out from the sea of people to the side of the walkway.

  “Come on,” he said in a voice so kind and calm it made me want to cry. “Let’s go sit down.”

  11

  “Whoa,” James said ten minutes later as he scrolled through my phone, re-reading the texts. We were sitting in Java Guava, the coffee shop/smoothie bar in the student union. The place was packed with both students and professors, but James had managed to lead me to an empty set of arm chairs tucked along the back wall.