Page 108 of The Other Side
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It was exactly one week later when I realized where Daniel had discovered the bodies.
I had fallen asleep on Chance in the lounge. We’d been debating all week whether or not we should turn over the drive to the police. It had all of Daniel’s evidence against the headmaster on it, and if that didn’t make them take his disappearance more seriously, I didn’t know what else would.
The problem was that both Chance and I were worried about being implicated in Daniel’s case, as we’d been trying to go around solving it ourselves and perhaps committing some crimes, like breaking and entering, in the process, which we didn’t think the police would take too kindly to.
There was also a high probability that our relationship would be exposed as a result, and depending on the outcome of whatever investigation or investigations, plural, they needed to conduct, and how much traction they gained in the media, there was no way the administration wouldn’t come down hard on us—if not for the relationship, certainly all of our amateur sleuthing.
We both agreed that if we could find the place where the bodies were located, we could tip off the police, maybe even anonymously, and watch from the sidelines as things unfolded. We even talked about mailing the hard drive to the police if we failed to make any more progress on our own.
Winston needed to be punished for what he’d done. I was reasonably sure he wasn’t still hurting girls, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. It wasn’t worth the risk for the lifetime of trauma he could cause even a single one.
But that evening, dozing in Chance’s lap after reviewing the video for what seemed like the millionth time, I dreamt I was in the room. Everything was static around me, as if I was in a single frame of the video, rather than the room itself.
There was no sound. There was no movement. And even though it was just a dream, it gave me the perfect opportunity to examine all the little details that had been so difficult to discern in the grainy, dim video.
And it was then that I noticed the wallpaper and the wainscoting. Eerily familiar because I’d seen them before. I’d spent hours gazing at them, in the cozy light, from the couch in the lounge.
Awaking with a start, I frightened Chance, who had himself dozed off.
“What!? Are you okay?” he stuttered.
“It’s the other side!” I jumped up from the couch a bit too quickly, needing to steady myself on the armrest to wait for the dizziness to subside. “They’re on the other side of the lounge!” I pointed toward the bookshelves.
“The wallpaper—wainscoting—” I babbled. “We couldn’t tell they were bay windows because of the curtains.”
“What?” Chance was reasonably confused.
“How do we get over there?” I pointed at the bookcases again.
Chance shook his head. “I don’t know. You said you can’t find the original staircase.”
“C’mon.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the trapdoor ladder in my bathroom.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re breaking into the room across the hall from my apartment.” The first year I had been alone on the fourth floor. I’d chosen my room because it had the best view and the best light out of the four rooms on the fourth floor.
I wasn’t sure what made Chance choose his, or if perhaps it had been assigned, but I knew nobody had occupied either of the rooms on the opposite side of our floor, though I’d been told they had been renovated at the same time as all the others and were ready for occupancy.
“Violet, it’s got a deadbolt,” he argued from behind me as I marched across the hall. “We’re going to need a crowbar or something, unless you happen to be skilled at lock picking.”
“Fuck,” I growled, staring at the door. He was right. I reached down to jiggle the doorknob, only to find that the door wasn’t locked at all.
Chance’s wide eyes met mine.
“Wipe the handle off with your sweater.” He pointed to the doorknob. “We can’t leave evidence. If there are bodies up there—” He looked up at the ceiling. “Stay outside. I’ll go up to look,” he decided.
“Like hell,” I snapped.
“Violet—”
“I’m not letting you go up there alone. So fuck off with the machismo!” I half shouted. For all we knew, the killer was squatting up there. There was no way I was going to let him march off into danger without any backup.
Chance huffed, but didn’t argue. “No prints.” Chance pulled his sleeves over his hands.
“No prints,” I confirmed, doing the same.
