The rain didn't stop for three days.
By the time the sun returned, the grass behind the baseball field had turned to mud a thick, sucking kind of earth that clung to everything. Police tape fluttered in the wind, the yellow bright against the green of the field. Students walked past in silence, eyes lowered, as if speaking her name out loud might somehow make it real.
Emily Hayes was dead.
The official statement came early that morning. The dean gathered the entire campus in the auditorium professors, athletes, students and stood at the podium with a microphone that echoed too much.
"It is with great sadness," he began, "that we confirm the remains found near the athletic complex belong to Emily Hayes, a beloved member of our college community."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Jenna covered her mouth. Someone began to cry quietly.
Liam sat near the back, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He stared at the floor, barely hearing the dean's voice. The words blurred together tragedy investigation counseling available police cooperation.
He felt like the world was moving without him, spinning faster and faster, while he was stuck in the same frozen moment,that night, her voice, her eyes, her promise to tell everyone.
He had meant only to stop her. Not to kill her.
That's what he kept telling himself.
Outside the auditorium, Detective Greene was already waiting. She stood by the steps, her expression unreadable as students filed out, their faces pale and shocked. When she saw Liam, she gave a small nod.
"Mr. Carter," she said. "I'll need a few minutes of your time."
Liam's throat tightened. "Now?"
"Now."
She led him to a small conference room inside the administration building. The blinds were half-closed, stripes of sunlight cutting across the table. On one end sat a thick folder; beside it, a photograph half-covered by a sheet of paper.
Greene gestured for him to sit. "We've confirmed that Emily's body was found less than two hundred yards from the baseball field. You were one of the last people to see her alive."
He nodded, eyes fixed on the folder.
"Tell me again what time you saw her that night," she said.
"About nine," he murmured. "We talked for a few minutes. Then she left."
"Left where?"
He hesitated. "Back to her dorm, I think."
"She didn't make it there," Greene said quietly. "You sure she didn't mention where she was going next?"
Liam shook his head, heart pounding. "No. I told you, we just talked."
Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment. Then she slid something across the table a small plastic evidence bag containing a silver chain, tarnished with dirt.
"You recognize this?"
Liam's stomach turned. Emily's necklace. The one she wore every day.
"We found it about twenty feet from the field," Greene said. "That area had tire tracks, partial shoe prints, and some other items we're analyzing."
She leaned forward slightly. "Funny thing the tread on the prints matches the type of sneakers issued to the baseball team. Any idea whose they might be?"
Liam swallowed hard. "A lot of guys wear those."
"I'm sure," she said, eyes still locked on him. "But here's the thing one of your teammates mentioned seeing you near the field around ten that night. After practice. Said you looked… upset."
His pulse thundered in his ears. "That's not true," he said quickly. "I went back to my dorm after practice."
Greene sat back, tapping her pen lightly against the table. "If you remember something else later, you'll tell me?"
He nodded. "Of course."
"Good." She closed the folder. "And Liam if there's anything you're hiding even something small now's the time to be honest. Because secrets have a way of surfacing when you least expect them."
Her words hung in the air like smoke.
That evening, the baseball field was closed off completely. Police markers dotted the grass. Reporters stood just beyond the tape, their cameras flashing whenever an officer walked by.
Jenna stood near the fence, clutching her jacket tight around her. She hadn't been able to sleep or eat since the announcement. Everything around her felt wrong too quiet, too controlled, like everyone was pretending this was just another story instead of a life that had been taken.
She saw Liam across the parking lot, standing alone, watching the field. For a moment she thought about going to him. Then she remembered how he had looked the last time she saw him distant, jittery, almost haunted.
She turned away.
Back in his room, Liam sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. They still felt dirty, even after countless showers. Every sound outside made him flinch footsteps, doors closing, the faint hum of voices in the hall.
His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number again.
"You're next."
He froze.
His first thought was that it had to be a mistake. A prank. But as he stared at the screen, dread pooled in his stomach. Someone knew.
He deleted the message immediately, but the fear didn't go away. It just sat there, pulsing beneath his skin.
He stood and looked out the window. Across the quad, the field lights glowed faintly against the mist. That was where it had happened. Where everything had gone wrong.
He could still see her there Emily, holding the evidence in her hand, saying she was going to tell. Saying she couldn't let it go.
He'd tried to reason with her. He'd begged her not to say anything. And when she wouldn't listen…
He'd pushed her.
Too hard.
He hadn't meant for her to fall.
He hadn't meant for her head to hit the rock.
He hadn't meant for her not to get up.
Down the hall, someone laughed — a normal, careless sound that didn't belong in a world like his anymore.
Liam sank back against the wall, hands pressed over his face.
He told himself again that it was an accident. That no one would ever know. But the voice inside him the one that sounded a little too much like Emily's whispered that secrets never stay buried forever.
And somewhere in the distance, the faint wail of a police siren drifted through the night.
It was getting closer.