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Water soaked the front of Rochelle’s uniform. “It’s you.” Rochelle didn’t even seem to be aware that she was dripping. “You came back. Shelby Carter came back.”
Shelby scrambled out of her seat and reached to pick up some of the broken glass.
“No, no!” Rochelle cried out. “You’ll cut yourself. There will be blood everywhere—” She stopped, blanching. “OhmyGod. I’m sorry!”
Hunter grabbed Shelby’s hands before she could touch the glass. “I’ve got it,” he told her.
She could handle some glass. Not a problem. Her head whipped toward him but…
She was being recorded.
Ice seemed to flood through Shelby’s veins. “Hunter?”
He frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”
“That girl…” Soft. “She’s recording me, with her phone.”
Instantly, he spun around. Sure enough, the girl in the other booth had her phone up, and her mouth gaped as she held the phone and videoed Shelby.
“She’s back,” the girl announced dramatically. “The only survivor of the Sorority Seven Killer is back in town.”
Hunter stalked toward her. “Stop. Now.”
The girl screeched and kept recording. “Public place, buddy! My phone, my choice—and I’m recording.” But she grabbed her laptop and tossed some cash down on the table. “Shelby Carter is back.” She tapped her phone’s screen and smiled brightly into the device. “I found her. Stay tuned for more.”
She put down the phone. Glared at Hunter. “Who are you? The new boyfriend?”
“Leave,” Rochelle snapped. “Leave now, Tiffany.”
“But, Ms. Rochelle—”
“This isn’t some scoop for your followers. This is someone’s life. Go.” Rochelle was adamant. “Come back when you’re not filming my customers!”
Jaw tight, eyes angry, Tiffany turned to leave. But at the door, she looked back at Shelby. “We study you in my criminal psych class. You’re a celebrity here. You had to know that people would recognize you in Hathaway. I’m just the lucky one who spotted you first.” A grimace and a wave toward Rochelle. “Fine, she tagged you first. I noticed you second.”
They studied her in criminal psych? And, so much for her hope of not being recognized that night.
“Came back for the dedication, didn’t you?” Tiffany asked.
Yes, she had. Partially. The main reason she was back, though, was to get answers.
“I have to ask…” Tiffany did not move to actually open the door. Her voice was loud, carrying easily. “Do you ever feel guilty?”
Shelby’s stomach could not twist more.
“You should. After all, you sent an innocent man to death row. At least, that’s what my professor thinks. He says you made a big mistake.” Then Tiffany shoved open the door and headed into the night.
“Well…” Rochelle expelled her breath on a long huff. “She would be the one here when you came inside. And me breaking all this glass and causing a commotion didn’t help anything.”
Once again, Shelby bent to help her pick up the broken glass.
But Hunter was there first. With a determined shake of his head, he lifted the shards away before she could touch them.
“Tiffany Blake. Communication and psych double major. Social media influencer wanna-be.” A pause from Rochelle. The lines near her eyes tightened. “She’s fascinated with the killings. Even has a podcast about them.”
A shiver slid down Shelby’s spine. After all this time, people were still that drawn to the murders? Fascinated.
After all of the broken glass had been piled back on the tray, Rochelle grabbed a mop and cleaned up the water. Shelby’s clothes were still damp from where the water had sprayed on her, but she’d wiped away the moisture from her hands and forearms with some napkins.
