Dark Turns Read Free

her?”
    “I’m just here to secure the scene. Make sure that you don’t leave. The police will want—”
    A siren interrupted. Blue-and-red lights flashed atop two gray cruisers with “State Police” emblazoned on the side. Another blue sedan, without the lettering, followed the police vehicles down the road leading to the boathouse. The cars each rolled to a stop beside the campus officer’s golf cart. The big guns had arrived.
    A pair of male officers exited the first car. Badges adorned their hats, sleeves, and even belt buckles. Guns pressed against blue button-downs. More cops stepped out of the other cars. Their uniforms didn’t match. Two men sported cargo pants and hard plastic briefcases. Notepads, larger than the guns hitting their hips, protruded from side pockets. The other two men wore straight-legged pants and ties.
    The campus cop moved to the side, a small kid giving the football team free reign of the lunchroom.
    “Where is the body?” one of the men in cargo pants asked. Nia and the campus cop simultaneously pointed toward Battle.
    Officers brushed past them to the water. A man in a suit brandished a badge and waved Battle over. Battle slipped the cell into his pocket. “Dean Stirk is on her way.”
    The officers didn’t seem to care. They surrounded him, blocking Nia’s view of her boss.
    The other plainclothes officer stood in front of her. Gray hair sat atop a rugby player face, complete with the broad forehead and crooked nose. A large chest filled out the baggy material of his shirt. He spoke with a Massachusetts accent.
    “Hi. Detective James Kelly. You placed the call?”
    “Yes. My boss and I were walking—”
    He put up his hand like a stop sign. “Let’s start with a name.”
    “Oh. Sorry. Antonia Washington. I’m a new dance teacher here and a resident advisor. My boss, Ted Battle, was taking me on a tour of the campus. He stopped to show me the lake. I saw the hair floating in the water. He ran in to get the girl’s body.”
    “And you immediately called nine-one-one?”
    “Yes.”
    “You said she wasn’t breathing.”
    “It seemed like she’d been in the water awhile. And there are these marks on her throat, about the size of thumbs—”
    “Did anyone try CPR?”
    “There wouldn’t have been a point. I think she’s been strangled—”
    “Officer! Officer!” A middle-aged woman slipped down the embankment. She wore low heels, a pencil skirt, and a sunny tweed jacket, fit more for high tea than a murder scene. Nia recognized Dean Martha Stirk from the highschool brochures. The woman reminded her of someone’s proper English grandmother, the kind of older lady who wouldn’t leave the house in sneakers and jeans—even in an emergency.
    “I’m the dean here and I would like to know what’s going on.” Stirk strode toward Nia. One of the officers in a more elaborate uniform stepped in front of her.
    “Ma’am, could you step back, please? We are assessing the situation.”
    “Ted,” Stirk called over the officer’s shoulder. “Is it one of our students?”
    “Ma’am, again, could you step back?”
    The policemen made a tighter circle around Battle.
    “I am the dean.” Stirk folded her arms across her chest. “I demand to know what is going on.”
    “There’s a girl’s body,” the campus cop piped up. He pointed to Nia. “This girl says she was strangled.”
    Stirk’s hand flew to her mouth, as though trying to keep something from escaping. She shook her head. “No. An accident? She must have fallen. Maybe it was dark and she was on the dock by herself. It gets slippery.” Stirk turned her attention to Nia. “Who are you to speculate?”
    The words, or rather their scolding delivery, snapped Nia to attention. “I’m the new dance teacher. The girl has marks—”
    “We don’t know yet how the girl died or if she is a student,” Detective Kelly said. “And no one will start any rumors.”
    “I should hope not.” The dean gestured