Chapter 2
The first person who came to see Lily was not a police officer. It was the dean of students.
He arrived at 2:16 a.m., wearing a raincoat over pajamas and the nervous smile of a man trying to protect an institution before a victim.
“Mr. Mercer,” he said softly, “we are deeply concerned.”
I looked at my daughter’s swollen face. “Concerned enough to call the police?”
His smile faded. “Campus security has opened an internal review.”
“Internal?” The word tasted like metal. “My daughter’s jaw is broken in six places.”
He lowered his voice. “We don’t want rumors spreading before we understand the full situation.”
That was when I knew. They already understood more than they were admitting.
I stepped into the hallway with him. “Show me the footage.”
He blinked. “That won’t be possible tonight.”
I leaned closer. “Then call whoever can make it possible.”
Before he could answer, a nurse approached with Lily’s phone sealed in a plastic bag.
“It was found under a stairwell,” she said. “The police need it, but it kept buzzing.”
I took one look at the cracked screen. Thirty-seven missed calls—all from the same blocked number.
Then a text appeared:
Tell your father to stop asking questions, or next time you won’t wake up.
The dean saw it too. His face went white.
I held up the phone. “Still want an internal review?”
By sunrise, two detectives were in Lily’s room. They asked questions she could not answer. Her jaw was wired, and her hand trembled as she tried to write.
At first, the letters came out broken. Then she managed one word: Wade.
The younger detective frowned. “Wade who?”
The dean’s eyes dropped to the floor. I saw it. So did the detectives.
I turned slowly. “You know that name.”
He swallowed. “Wade Carlisle is a senior. His father is chairman of the university board.”
The room went silent. Lily began crying without sound.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered. A man’s voice spoke calmly.
“Mr. Mercer, your daughter made a mistake accusing my son.”
May you like
I looked at Lily. Then at the detectives. Then at the dean.
“No,” I said. “Your son made a mistake leaving her alive.”
