Chapter 3 - The Founders
Bradley University looked peaceful in the rain.
That was the first lie.
Students crossed the redbrick courtyard beneath umbrellas. Music drifted from an open residence hall window. A tour guide smiled while telling prospective families that Bradley was one of the safest campuses in Illinois.
Thirty yards away, my daughter’s blood still stained the concrete beside the science building.
The university had placed two yellow barriers around the area. No police tape. No guards. No sign that a nineteen-year-old student had nearly been killed there less than twelve hours earlier.
I stood beneath the stone archway and watched maintenance workers pressure-wash the sidewalk.
“What are you doing?” I shouted.
One worker released the trigger.
A gray-haired supervisor approached.
“Sir, this area is restricted.”
“You’re washing a crime scene.”
“We were told the police had released it.”
“By whom?”
He looked toward a white university vehicle parked nearby.
A man in a navy coat stood beside it, speaking into his phone. When he noticed me, he turned away.
I photographed the truck, the workers and the water carrying diluted blood into the gutter.
Then I called Ruiz.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“They’re cleaning the scene.”
“What?”
“The east entrance. Right now.”
“Do not confront anyone.”
“A little late for that.”
“Daniel, listen to me. Harlan filed the location as processed and released at six this morning.”
“Was it processed?”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Take photographs and leave.”
“I’m not leaving without answers.”
“You’re making yourself visible.”
“My daughter is lying in intensive care. I want them to see me.”
I ended the call.
Lily lived in Adams Hall with a roommate named Maya Bennett. I had met Maya twice. She was an art student with purple glasses, nervous laughter and a habit of apologizing for everything.
When she opened the dormitory door, she looked as if she hadn’t slept.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“Can I come in?”
Her gaze darted into the hallway.
Then she pulled me inside and locked the door.
Lily’s bed was neatly made. Her desk was covered with chemistry notes, color-coded pens and the tiny cactus I had mailed her during freshman year.
Seeing her ordinary life felt worse than seeing the hospital.
A half-finished cup of coffee sat beside her laptop.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.
Maya’s face crumpled.
“I wanted to.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Lily made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“That if anything happened, I would wait until she could explain.”
“She can’t explain. Her jaw is wired shut.”
Maya covered her mouth.
I softened my voice.
“I’m not angry with you. But someone tried to kill my daughter. Anything you know matters.”
She sat on the edge of her own bed.
“About a month ago, Lily came back from the science building crying. She said she had seen something she wasn’t supposed to see.”
“What?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. She said the less I knew, the safer I would be.”
“Did she name anyone?”
“Not then.”
“Later?”
Maya looked toward the door again.
“Evan Cross.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Who is he?”
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
“His father is Richard Cross. Chairman of Bradley’s Board of Trustees. Their family funded the new athletic center, the business school and half the science wing.”
“What does Evan do?”
“He’s a senior. President of the Founders Society.”
“The Founders?”
“Officially, it’s a leadership organization. Wealthy students, legacy families, people with political connections. They wear these old-fashioned rings with red stones.”
The room seemed to contract around me.
“Show me.”
Maya opened her phone and searched through social media photographs.
The first image showed twelve young men in black suits standing on the steps of a private mansion. Their smiles were polished and empty.
At the center stood Evan Cross.
Blond hair. Expensive watch. One arm around the university president.
On his right hand was a heavy gold ring set with an oval red stone.
A letter was engraved beneath it.
C.
My daughter had not been trying to write Cross.
She had been drawing the crest.
“How did Lily know Evan?”
“She tutored one of his friends in chemistry. Connor Vale.”
“Was Connor with Evan?”
“Usually.”
“Who was the third?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Maya squeezed her hands together.
“There’s another Founder named Grant Holloway. His mother is a state senator.”
“Did Lily ever say they threatened her?”
“Two weeks ago, someone slid an envelope under our door.”
She crossed the room and removed a photograph from beneath a stack of canvases.
It showed Lily leaving the science building at night.
The photograph had been taken from behind a tree.
Across the bottom, someone had written:
PRETTY GIRLS SHOULD LEARN WHEN TO LOOK AWAY.
My hands went cold.
“Why wasn’t this given to the police?”
“Lily didn’t trust campus security.”
“Why?”
“Because she reported it.”
“And?”
“They called it a prank.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Three slow strikes.
Maya froze.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
She shook her head.
I moved beside the door.
“Who is it?”
“Campus housing,” a male voice replied. “We need to inspect the room.”
“Identification.”
There was a pause.
Then the handle moved.
I pulled the door open sharply.
The hallway was empty.
At the far end, a stairwell door swung shut.
I ran after whoever had been there, taking the stairs two at a time. By the time I reached the ground floor, students filled the lobby.
No one was running.
No one looked frightened.
Whoever had knocked knew how to disappear into a crowd.
When I returned upstairs, Maya was standing beside Lily’s desk.
The laptop was open.
“I didn’t touch it,” she whispered.
A black screen showed a single line of white text.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED AT THE HOSPITAL.
Then the screen went dark.
I unplugged the computer from the wall.
“Pack a bag,” I told Maya.
“What?”
“You’re not staying here.”
“But where will I go?”
“With someone you trust. Not family whose address is public.”
Her eyes widened.
“You think they’ll hurt me?”
“I think they already came to find out what Lily told you.”
As Maya began stuffing clothes into a backpack, I searched Lily’s desk.
The drawers contained textbooks, receipts and old birthday cards.
The bottom drawer was locked.
I used a screwdriver from Maya’s art kit to pry it open.
Inside was an empty velvet jewelry box.
A silver chain had once rested there.
Beneath it lay a folded campus map.
Lily had circled three locations.
The science building.
The Founders Society mansion.
And an abandoned greenhouse at the northern edge of campus.
May you like
Written beside the greenhouse were four words:
THE PROOF IS STILL THERE.
