Student Bodies by Susan Israel

Author:Susan Israel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fiction Studio Books
Published: 2021-06-07T13:56:02+00:00

26

“Girl, you’ve got some serious bed head,” Freddie says at my door, playfully tousling what hasn’t already been playfully tousled. She’s the most dressed down I’ve ever seen her, wearing a snakeskin print tank and faded jeans and her usual impossibly high stilettos. I’ve at least put on some real clothes. “And is that a shiner you’re getting?” She frowns. “What the hell happened to you? I wasn’t expecting an emergency emergency.”

“Sorry I couldn’t call you earlier to get together as we planned. As you can see, I was indisposed.” I launch into an account of what went down, from arriving at Dr. Zimmerman’s office to being knocked down in the downstairs hallway on my way out. “And it was all for naught. I didn’t find out anything about Violet. Or anyone else.”

“They found a body,” Freddie says.

“What? Where? Is it…” I put my hand over my mouth. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

She shrugs. “I heard snippets on the news before I left my place. I don’t know if it has anything to do with this.”

The way Quick dashed off without telling me anything makes me think it has everything to do with this. He would probably give some indication otherwise that it was nothing for me to worry about. It’s hard not to think the worst when the worst keeps happening. “I could use a drink,” I announce.

Freddie eyes me warily. “In your condition? I don’t think…”

“You did a pretty good job carrying me out the other night,” I remind her.

“But you didn’t have a concussion.”

“And I don’t now. Just a bump. Come on, let’s go.” I feel the room sway just a little bit as I reach for my bag. Freddie shakes her head but follows me. I have to find out something, even if it’s on the 10 p.m. news, even if it’s on the front page of the Post. The heat, even at this hour, is stifling. “The hottest June on record” is living up to its billing and not in a good way. The bar I’m leading Freddie to is just a couple of short blocks from my building. Good thing.

The TVs are tuned to sports, baseball on most and playoff hockey on the others. Freddie steers me to a table near the window that has opened up and eyes the stools suspiciously. “Is this okay?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” I say, hoisting my way up on one. Freddie meanders to the bar and comes back a few minutes later with a beer in one hand and a fizzy drink in the other. “Club soda,” she says, sliding it in front of me. My phone rings and I hand it to Freddie when I see Quick’s number pop up on the screen. “Tell him I’m sleeping,” I coach her. I don’t know where he is, but I certainly don’t want him to know where I am and I’m afraid of what he might be calling to tell me.

Freddie frowns. “He’s going to hear the noise in the background and know you’re not home.

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