The Autumn Prince

57. String Theory

"Where's Amy?" I asked, circling the couch and dropping into the cushions next to Katherine and Rachel. The day before had been a blur, given to examining every new inch of Meridian in detail or indulging in the amenities, like kids with a new toy.

"Said she was working on something for you." Rachel answered and thumbed the TV remote, switching the channel to public access news.

"She's always busy," Katherine confirmed. "I wish she'd loosen up and join us more often. She swims like an otter, by the way. You should have come with us, Thomas, it was fun."

Rachel nodded. "She and Becca both made me feel like an amateur in the water."

"Admitting defeat?" I asked.

"Not easily. They earned the win, believe me. Now I know why Becca's in such good shape." She hit the remote again and a new talking head appeared on the screen.

"What are you doing?"

Rachel didn't answer, but stubbornly flipped the channel a few more times.

"Rach," I interrupted as she jabbed the remote again.

"I'm looking for something."

Katherine leaned against my chest and pulled my arm around her. "We were trying to find news about Rob and Sloane."

I'd almost forgotten the two students Penny mentioned when she ambushed me outside Tory Hall. I learned from the girls that Sloane had been Katherine's first roommate at BAU until she left to join a sorority a few weeks after the start of their freshman year, and they reminded me about Rob Foster's exploits trying to hook up with Gloria's friend Kennedy.

"Nothing?" I asked.

"Not yet," Rachel answered and changed the channel again. Her expression suggested she was only doing it reflexively.

"You should try the newspapers," I suggested. "I doubt the television would report on two week old stories."

"Already did. These are from Monday. Amy showed us how to access the archive while you were canoodling with Becca."

"She's recording the news?" I asked, ignoring her gibe.

"No, they're already on the Internet, Amy just fucked around with the TV software so it's easier to access."

"Why would she think we'd need that?"

"She didn't," Katherine said, "Finn apparently had it developed a while ago. It took Amy all of five minutes to install it for us."

I watched as Rachel skimmed the local affiliate of a national news channel. "This is from Monday?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"That guy looks familiar." He was a young man, bulky but fit, with dark hair and an arrogant expression.

"From where?" Katherine asked. I couldn't make the connection, but Rachel played it through anyway. He had been arrested for assaulting one of his co-workers after an early morning altercation. The camera paused on his face again, then panned across a highway to rest on a tall, blue and green sign.

"That's Becca's storage unit." I said, then it hit me. "It's Mike. The guy that harassed her when we picked up her things." I usually had a decent memory for faces, but he looked different, wild-eyed and feral.

"No shit?" Rachel blinked. "Looks like she got out just in time."

My heart beat faster recalling the anger and hatred in his eyes and the ice-cold terror I induced with a deluge of power. "Seems that way," I said, beating back the memory. "He was kind of an ass."