The morning air felt heavier than usual. News traveled fast at St. Doyle College faster than truth, faster than reason. By Friday, everyone knew Emily Hayes was missing. Posters clung to lampposts, wet from the dew, each one bearing the same bright photo: her smiling, unaware that this moment would be the one the world remembered her by.
Liam Carter stared at one of those posters on his way to class. He tried not to. He tried to keep walking like everyone else. But his eyes lingered, tracing the letters: LAST SEEN TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8TH. PLEASE CONTACT CAMPUS SECURITY OR LOCAL AUTHORITIES.
He swallowed hard. The world had become too sharp lately the sound of laughter, the hum of vending machines, even the echo of footsteps in the hallway. Everything reminded him of her.
At the entrance to the science building, two officers in dark jackets stood beside Dean Mitchell, speaking in hushed tones. Liam recognized one of them from the local police department. He quickly lowered his head and walked faster.
He had always been good under pressure the kind of player who could stand at the plate with the bases loaded and a full count and still smile. But this wasn't a game, and there was no crowd to cheer him on. Just the silence of guilt, and the fear that someone might finally see through him.
By midmorning, students gathered in small clusters outside the student center. The police had set up a makeshift desk in the lobby flyers, notebooks, a list of names to question. The hum of conversation buzzed like electricity.
"Hey, they're talking to everyone who saw her last."
"They said she was in the library that night."
"No, I heard someone saw her near the athletic dorms."
Theories spread faster than facts. Some said she'd run away. Others whispered she'd been kidnapped. But the one thing no one dared say out loud was what Liam already knew: she wasn't coming back.
He was about to slip past the crowd when he heard a voice behind him.
"Liam Carter?"
He turned. A woman in her forties, wearing a blue raincoat and holding a clipboard, gave him a polite, professional smile.
"Detective Marla Greene. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
Every instinct told him to run. But he forced himself to nod.
"Sure. Yeah. Of course."
They stepped aside into the hallway. The fluorescent lights above flickered.
"You were close with Emily Hayes, right?" she began.
He nodded. "We were friends. She helped with the baseball team sometimes."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
He thought about lying. Then realized lying too soon would look worse.
"Tuesday night. We talked for a bit after practice."
"Where?"
"In the athletic dorm. Common room."
"About what?"
He hesitated. "Just… classes. Baseball stuff."
She studied him quietly, her pen paused over her clipboard. "You didn't notice anything unusual? Anything she said that seemed… off?"
"No," he said quickly. "Nothing like that."
The detective smiled faintly, not unkindly. "You seem nervous, Liam."
He forced a laugh. "Yeah, well… it's weird talking to police about someone you know. Everyone's just freaked out."
Greene nodded, closing her notebook. "If you think of anything else, you can come by our office. You were one of the last to see her, so anything you remember might help."
He nodded again, his throat dry. "Yeah. Of course."
As she walked away, he realized his hands were trembling. He shoved them deep into his pockets and left the building, trying not to look back.
By evening, campus felt like a different place. Reporters from the local news had arrived, cameras flashing outside the main gate. Students whispered, professors canceled classes, and the baseball team's weekend game was postponed indefinitely.
In the middle of it all, Emily's parents arrived.
They stood with Dean Mitchell outside the administration building her mother holding a photograph, her father speaking quietly to one of the officers. The grief in their faces was raw, unfiltered. They didn't belong here among the brick buildings and students rushing to class. They belonged somewhere calmer, somewhere that hadn't swallowed their daughter whole.
From a distance, Liam watched them. He couldn't hear their words, but he didn't need to. Every part of their posture the way her mother's shoulders shook, the way her father's hand clenched spoke louder than anything else.
He turned away, heart pounding, and walked toward the field.
The baseball diamond was empty again. The sky had turned gray, clouds gathering low and heavy. Liam stepped onto the field, the grass soft beneath his shoes. The scoreboard loomed over him like an accusation.
He remembered Emily standing there once, holding a clipboard, teasing him for missing a pitch. Her laughter had carried across the field, light and honest.
Now, that laughter haunted him.
He crouched down near the pitcher's mound, his fingers digging into the dirt. The scent of earth mixed with the faint metallic tang of rain. He tried to breathe, but the air felt thick heavy with memory and fear.
"You can't tell anyone," he whispered into the wind, as if she could hear him.
But the wind said nothing.
That night, Liam sat in his room with the blinds drawn and the lights off. His phone buzzed again. Another message same unknown number as before:
"They're getting closer. Clean up what's left."
His pulse spiked. He typed back quickly.
"Who is this?"
No reply.
He threw the phone onto the bed and stood, pacing the room. There was nothing left to clean. Nothing but his conscience. But whoever had sent that text… they knew.
The knock on his door made him freeze.
"Liam? You in there?"
It was his roommate, Derek.
"Yeah," Liam said, forcing his voice steady. "What's up?"
Derek opened the door a crack. "Cops are downstairs again. Asking about Tuesday night. They want to talk to the whole team."
Liam nodded. "Okay. I'll be down in a sec."
When Derek left, Liam leaned against the wall, trying to steady his breathing.
He could feel it the investigation tightening around him like a noose. Every question, every glance, every rumor. He could almost hear Emily's voice in his head, whispering: You can't hide forever.
The next morning, just as the sun rose over the east side of campus, a groundskeeper found something at the edge of the woods near the trail behind the baseball field.
A small, silver bracelet tangled in the grass.
He recognized it immediately. Everyone did.
By noon, the news spread across campus like wildfire: the search area had been expanded to the woods behind the field.
And somewhere deep inside, Liam knew that no matter how hard he tried to bury the truth, it was already beginning to surface.
The silence around the diamond was about to break.