Page 23 of Pink Ink

I was wrong about the picture. It’s not just a ceiling design; it’s a beehive.

I trace the bee sitting in the center of the honeycomb. The university’s logo is a boring old crest. Not this. Is the honeycomb stamped in the other alumni books?

I rise to unsteady feet and glance around. The feeling of being watched doesn’t go away. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I grab the first alumni book I can get my hands on.

There’s no symbol.

One by one, I check fifty years’ worth of books.

Nothing. Still.

That can’t be right. I couldn’t have checked fifty of them already. Frowning, I go back to the shelf to count each and every book.

Some of the years are missing. How didn’t I notice that before?

There’s no logic or numerical order to any of the gaps. Getting my notebook, I make a tally of all the missing years, dating back to the eighteen hundreds, where the records end—any older ones would likely be kept safe in the restricted archives and artifacts room. They’ve probably been misplaced somewhere, like the one Sue found was. Would those missing books have a stamp in them?

A thought hits me. I fire up my laptop and open the document containing the handful of names I managed to find of the Shadow’s victims through countless hours of online sleuthing.

My finger flies over the mousepad to flag the six men who studied at Cresswell and dig out their corresponding folders filled with information about their lives. Then cross-reference the years they graduated with the books on the shelf.

Five out of six of the years aren’t there. Having one or two registries missing is one thing. Five?

If I knew more of the victims’ names and worked out where they studied, would I find that their books aren’t on the shelves either?

The link to the Shadow has to be a freak coincidence. A lot of his victims never attended Cresswell. But a lot of them did. Maybe the killer himself is connect to this university.

All these questions, and not a single answer about my dad.

I glare at the ceiling. Just once I’d like to see the finish line. JustonceI’d like to have a decent lead.

It’s days like today that I especially resent Dad for not being around more. I feel so utterly hopeless, like if I had asked him the right questions, then I wouldn’t have uprooted my life and moved across the country to do what I never did when he was around.

Shaking my head, I pack my things away. Great, this might have been a pointless endeavor. I can’t wait to lose sleep over it.

I lumber down the steps to find Sue and show her the embossing.

“Do you know what this is?”

She pushes her glasses up her nose and inches closer to look. She tips her head to the side, and the chains attached to the arms swing and clink against her pearl earrings. “Can’t say I do, hon.”

“Are you sure?”

Sue stares at it for a moment longer. I’ve given her the background of my life, and she’s been more than accommodating in my search. “Tell you what. How about I have a look around to see if anyone might know?”

“I would be eternally grateful. I’ve also noticed that quite a few of the alumni books are missing.”

She rolls her eyes. “I bet you it’s Tim. That boy has been nothing but trouble since the day he started. Things have been goin’ missing like it’s nobody’s business.”

I give her a tight grin. I have no idea who Tim is, but I know Sue’s hated him since she witnessed him covertly throw out some of her baking.

I wave her goodbye, and because I’m clearly in the fates’ good graces today, I have to break into a sprint the second I’m outside. The sky batters the ground with hail and one of the seven plagues of Egypt.

Ilovethat I forgot to bring my umbrella.

That’s just fan-fucking-tastic.

By the time I stroll into class and claim the seat farthest from the front, I’m the human equivalent of a drowned rat.