Sweet Deadly Lies (A Dark Academia Mystery) Watty Winner ✔️

Thirty-Two

I weigh my options. Either I can walk into his office, like he asked, or I can turn and run away. Leave campus and go straight to the police.

Mr. McKenzie's pale eyes drill into mine as the clock on the wall counts the seconds, its infinite tick tock filling the thunderous silence. Finally, curiosity gets the best of me. I brush past him through the door and then still, the hairs on my arms rising with alarm.

He's not alone.

Sitting in the chair across from his desk is Jessa Duncan, Kate's roommate. Her eyes are red-rimmed and staring, two giant orbs of angst. We watch each other for a moment before she eventually looks away.

"You must have so many questions. Let's see if I can answer some of them," Mr. McKenzie says from behind me. An unexpected click follows his sentence, and I whip around, trying to place the source. One hand lingers on the doorknob, his fingers on the lock. "Why don't you have a seat and we'll get started?"

Trepidation dries my mouth.

I turn back to Jessa. Her expression which, at first, looked like grief, has now morphed into something else entirely. Eyes tense, lips drawn into a line. Brows pulled together. She's scared.

No—not scared. She's terrified.

When I lower myself into the chair next to her and set my bag on the floor, a barely audible whimper grinds in the back of her throat.

"What a day. Kate's parents are here from Boston, and they are absolutely inconsolable," Mr. McKenzie begins as he sits down across from us. "Daniel Baxter and I are friends, did you know that? We met at Maliseet Bay our freshmen year. Boy, you should have seen us back then—full of piss and vinegar! He's probably my best friend—definitely my longest running. It's so hard to see him this way. He's a broken man, losing his only daughter like that. I didn't want to say anything this morning, not until we knew for sure, but we believe Kate jumped from the cliffs. Same as Ava."

His admission curdles my stomach.

Two identical suicides, both from the same school, nearly six months apart. What are the odds?

"Kids go through so much these days," he continues with a shake of his head. "There are pressures now that weren't around when I was your age. Not only do you have to worry about acceptance, sex, and peer pressure, but social media is doing a hell of a job rotting your brains. Throw in the fear of school shootings and civil unrest, and it's no wonder depression and suicide are on the rise. It's a damn shame, too. All that promise and potential going straight down the toilet."

Next to me, Jessa wrings her hands, twisting and turning them over and over in her lap. As if she senses me watching, she clasps them together and stuffs them between her knees to keep them still.

Mr. McKenzie's face breaks into a smile, his eyes dancing back and forth between us. "But not my Drew. After his mother and I divorced, she was insistent on full custody, but there was no way I was letting someone else raise my son. From the time he was a child, I knew Drew's future would be bright. Now, with my careful guidance and molding, the world is his for the taking. You can't tell me she would have been able to do half the job I've done."

Wind presses against the windows, the clouds a thick gray blanket covering the sky.

"I've told him time and time again he needs to safeguard his opportunities. I can get his foot in the door almost anywhere, but it's him who has to do the rest. Work hard, keep your eye on the prize. I've drilled that into his head since he was a toddler. And by all accounts, he's excelled. Phenomenal grades, sport achievements, extracurricular activities. He's perfect. Kate was perfect, too. They made a dynamic couple. But now she's gone, and the future I planned for him has changed. Not that he won't succeed—that goes without saying. But their union will never bring our families together." His tone turns bitter. "How do you think it feels to have all that hard work blow up in your face?"