Free Summer Session by Merry Jones Page A

edgy dance.
    ‘Researchers keep records, Larry. They’ll know what study Graham was working on and they’ll decide how to proceed.’
    Larry stiffened. ‘Right. So . . . I’ll just talk to them.’
    ‘I think that’s best.’ Then she added, ‘And also to the police.’
    ‘The police?’ His head cocked. ‘Why the police?’
    Harper paused. ‘About your rent money?’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘And about the drugs Graham was taking when he died.’
    ‘The drugs?’ Larry popped his knuckles. ‘Why? Wait. You think they had something to do—’
    ‘No, of course not.’ Damn. Why had she mentioned it? Rumors could get started – exactly what Ron was trying to avoid. ‘But the Center will want to make sure—’
    ‘No way. Loot, if those pills caused suicide, Graham wouldn’t be the only one. Everyone in the our group would be jumping out windows.’
    Larry had a point. ‘Who else was in your group?’
    ‘Like forty of us. Esoso. His room-mate. Monique and me. Graham. I don’t know all the other names. But nobody’s dead except Graham. We went to pick up our paychecks today, and everyone was still breathing.’
    That was reassuring.
    ‘So, you’re sure you won’t give me my rent money?’
    Harper narrowed her eyes. ‘Larry—’
    ‘OK. I’ll ask the police.’ He turned to leave. ‘Oh, wait –’ he ran his hand through his hair – ‘Did you find a list of numbers?’
    A list of numbers? Yes, Harper had seen a piece of paper with numbers written on it. It had fallen off Graham’s desk.
    ‘I mean, it’s no big deal. But Graham – he borrowed my study sheet. For Economics. It’s just a list of pages to study. Was it in his bag?’ Larry waited, working his knuckles.
    ‘No. There was nothing like that in the book bag.’ It wasn’t a lie. The paper was in her leather sack. Harper wasn’t sure why, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
    Larry blinked rapidly, looking around as if something was still on his mind. But all he said was, ‘OK. Later, Loot.’
    Harper stood in the hall, watching Larry disappear into the stairwell, wondering why he was so charged up. Wondering about the pills. Unsettled, she checked the clock again. She was still early for her meeting with Detective Rivers, but she was too bothered to sit and write a eulogy. So, grabbing her leather sack, she hoisted Graham’s hefty book bag on to her shoulder and headed out the door.
    With time to spare, Harper took the scenic route, allowing herself a short detour to her favorite spot along the Suspension Bridge. Halfway across, resting her leg, she slowed to look down at the rocky walls and gurgling water, vaguely noticing a guy on a mountain bike coming up behind her. A couple of girls approached from the opposite side, chatting. T-shirts with tiger-striped letters that read ‘Delta Gamma’. Sorority sisters.
    ‘It doesn’t matter why—’
    ‘No. I agree.’
    Harper had never pledged a sorority; she’d pledged ROTC. What would college have been like, going to frat parties and playing drinking games instead of repelling off rooftops and spit-shining shoes? Having sisters-in-play instead of brothers-in-arms? Who would she be now if she hadn’t gone off to war? She wiped sweat from her forehead, nodded at the girls as they walked by and momentarily imagined spinning around and joining them. Going back in time. Starting over. The thought made her head hurt; Harper strolled on.
    Looking down at the stream, she was again aware of the bike, sensed that something about it wasn’t right. Glancing back, she saw what it was: in ninety-degree heat, the rider was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. With the hood up.
    Instinctively, Harper picked up her pace. No one else was around, and she was suddenly aware that only a thin layer of swaying walkway separated her from an abyss of empty air.
    Calm down, she told herself. There’s no reason to think that guy intends any harm. She stopped walking to let him pass. But he didn’t pass. He