Finals (30 page)

“
Three.”

“
What?” I asked, more confused now than I was when Willow dove into the history of the owl. “Is that a place or a time? I don’t get it.”

“
It is common knowledge that it takes three licks to reach the center of a Tootsie pop. Even young schoolchildren are aware of that fact, Wayne,” said Willow calmly.

I had a strong urge to barge into the apartment, detach the towel rail from the bathroom and pummel Willow until she was nothing more than a lifeless mass on the floor. The only thing stopping me from following through with the act was knowing that if I did storm in uninvited, Avery would hit me harder than Brian Urlacher and I wanted to keep all of my ribs intact.

For once, rather than engaging in violence, I elected to cuss out the childlike Willow instead. “I don’t fucking care about Tootsie pops. I just want to know where the hell Hayley is!”

“
Dude!” Avery yelled, approaching the door wearing nothing but a white tank top and bright yellow shorts with the Juicy logo printed on the back. Had I anything left in my stomach to regurgitate, I’m sure I would have hurled upon seeing the overflowing cottage cheese. I think Juicy Couture
needs to establish a policy that states customers can only purchase merchandise that appropriately describes an individual’s physique. For Avery, “juicy” was not an accurate description at all; however, it didn’t seem too likely that “porky” would become a top seller.

“
She’s not here,” Avery said furiously. “Now will you leave us the fuck alone so we can get back to our yoga!”

Willow gave me a meek smile as if to apologize for Avery’s brash behavior and Hayley’s absence before Juicy pulled her inside, slamming the door in my face.

Yet another wonderful encounter, but at least I gained one morsel of information. If Hayley wasn’t participating in her roommates’ much needed yoga session, then the lone place left for her to be was the newsroom.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

F
rom The Village, I had two possible routes. The first was to go through the parking lot and the other was to sneak from building to building until I finally reached the newsroom in St. Mary’s Hall.

I guess if I really considered the two options, the choice was clear. If I went through the parking lot, I’d basically be strapping myself into the chair, waiting for my lethal injection.

The parking lot was wide open, an ideal place for a police officer or a member of campus security to capture me with minimal effort. From my four years on campus, I knew there was always at least one Public Safety officer nearby and since this parking lot was the largest on campus, the police were bound to park in this lot as well. I would have to run like Usain Bolt to get from one side to the other, and I’d still probably be killed faster than a freshman playing
Halo
for the first time.

Trying to sneak like a ninja from one building to another wasn’t a great alterative either. To start, this course was bound to take twice as long as going straight through the parking lot, and the probability of running into people was much higher. I could already see myself stumbling into a classmate, then a, “Hey, York’s over here! Come get him!” would follow before I’d be hogtied with my face in the dirt like one of those idiotic drug dealers on
COPS.

Given those two alternatives, my choice was obvious. I headed down the stairs keeping a brisk walking pace as I made my way towards my old dormitory, Andrews Hall. With my head down, I made my way from Andrews Hall to the all girls dorm, Fraser Hall, before arriving in the lobby of Franz Hall.

Getting to this point was relatively easy, almost too easy, but next was the difficult part. The distance from Franz Hall to the Chapel of Christ the Teacher was close to two football fields in length. Behind the church and to the left, a stone’s throw away from the chapel was St. Mary’s Hall. On either side of the grassy courtyard were two parallel walkways, both of which led to the chapel. The one on the far right bordered Schmidt Hall, the engineering building, and the left walkway was a straight shot to St. Mary’s Hall. The only threatening problem was that this pathway bordered the Buckley Center. Not only was the Buckley Center the largest building on campus, but many high ranking university faculty members, such as Father O’Connor, had an office there. If the police were to be in any one building on campus, my bet would be on Buckley.

During most of the stretch, there was no cover, no place to hide. There were small batches of dense bushes growing by the Buckley Center but for the majority of my trip I’d be a sitting duck.

Gazing out onto the courtyard from the empty lobby, I started to wonder if it was worth it. What was I going to say to my now hated ex, if I found her? “So this was the cheerful news you were going to share with me last night, huh? Here I am thinking you might be apologizing or saying you love me, but no…you’re here to inform me of your discovery, essentially sealing my destiny of becoming some ogre’s bitch in prison.”

I would enjoy venting before my capture, but I wasn’t going to slice up the blonde midget as much as the dark voices begged. I couldn’t kill her.

Reluctantly, I pushed the revolving glass door, taking a few short strides until I was once again out in the open. At this point, I decided to go for it. Hayley’s message might not have spread to the masses yet, but it was just a matter of time. Guilty of two counts of homicide, and aiding the mentally insane in a devious scheme to blow up an elderly woman’s car, there was no walking away from my past. By midday, police in the entire city of Portland would be after me. Then if I managed to miraculously make my way pass the police, my trek down to Mexico was surely not going to be any easier. I had cemented in my mind that giving up was not an option, but the chances of arriving in the sweltering Mexican heat a free man looked as probable as winning the Powerball.

Swiftly walking with my eye on the prize, I headed down the pathway towards St. Mary’s Hall. I was the only soul near the courtyard, but like a zombie in a George Romero movie, a copper was likely to pop out of any corner.

I was about halfway between Franz Hall and my destination when my nightmare was realized. From one of the rear exits of the Buckley Center came three uniformed police officers. I stood like a deer in the highlights, not believing this was how everything was going to end. Three cops were in my way of ever seeing the infamous blonde who managed to simultaneously steal my heart and my freedom in one fell swoop. The sands in my hourglass had slowly trickled to a stop, indicating my time was officially up.

All of a sudden, like a snowball clobbering me in the face, the lyrics from my newly purchased ringtone snapped me out of my trance.

“
Yes?” I replied absentmindedly, not looking at the caller name as I launched myself in the nearby bushes. This move wasn’t as logical as walking into the Buckley Center and hiding out in an empty room, but I panicked, sue me. If the cops hadn’t seen me before The Killers song, I was betting they had now. I was so fucking stupid.

“
You’re so fucking stupid!”said the shrieking voice as I placed my phone to my ear.

Vickie.

Peeking out of the bushes, I saw one of the officers walking in my direction, staring straight at my little patch of brush.

“
Now’s really not the best time, Vic” I whispered back, barely audible.

“
I can’t fucking believe you.”

“
Yeah, yeah,” I replied, still too engrossed in the policeman to listen to a word Vickie was saying. He was now only twenty feet from my location as I sat crouched, unable to move. Compared to the pressure of kissing Hayley yesterday, my heart was pounding with an unmatched intensity. Being scared about going in for a smooch was asinine when juxtaposing the two circumstances. This was real fear.

“
Yo dickweed! Are you listening to me?” Vickie screamed into the phone. “When were you gonna fucking tell me about this?”

“
I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, watching the ever-approaching officer. I felt like one of those big-breasted bimbos in a horror flick trying to hide from the madman on the rampage. Unfortunately, much like the idiotic nympho’s fate, my end was looming as well.

“
Goddamnit Wayne! You fucking tell Hayley, the girl that fucked Mingler while you were with her just so she could get the editor-in-chief job. You tell the conniving cunt that blackmailed him to get the job, your job Wayne. You tell the cheating bitch that stomped on your heart like it was a cigarette butt. You tell the girl you’ve constantly bitched about, but you won’t tell your fucking best friend!”

“
She just found out,” I muttered back, still watching the cop as he moved within ten feet of my bushes.

“
Don’t fucking lie to me Wayne, you piece of shit! She told me this morning you talked to her about it,” Vickie said, continuing her insistently loud verbal attack.

“
What? When did you talk to her?” I asked, disregarding my impending doom by the mention of Hayley.

“
On the way to the airport after she talked to the cops,” Vickie said.

“
So she’s gone?”

“
Listen to me you douche bag! She went to the airport, so yes she’s gone,” Vickie yelled. “I know you already talked to her because she told me so don’t play dumb. You think you can dupe me because I’m black don’t you, Wayne? You do, don’t you? Well I wasn’t born yesterday, bucko! I’m not like those skinny white bitches you can play mind games with, I’m a genuine—”

Vickie’s rant was interrupted as the officer leaned his head over the shrubs to get a look at this supposedly brilliant killer squatting in the bushes with his cell in hand.

“
Get out of the bushes, please,” the officer said sternly, his cold expression indicating he wasn’t here to mess around.

It was stupid to say, but “I’m on the phone,” instantaneously burst out of my mouth before I could control it. Even when I was on the verge of going to jail for a very long, long time, I couldn’t help but be a smartass.

“
Get out of the bushes now,” responded the officer, sounding much more assertive this time.

“
Vic, get over to B.C. I need you!” I hissed, as I ended the call putting the phone in my pocket.

Standing up, I pushed through the bushes, making my way to the pathway by the officer’s side. Once beside the police officer, he slapped the cuffs on my wrists and said, “Follow me,” as he started walking back towards the rear exit of the Buckley Center where the other two cops stood waiting.

Chapter Thirty

S
o this trip had been in vain after all. My love had spoken her peace with the police before flying back to California, leaving her psychotic former lover to suffer the wrath of her verbal testimony.

As I slowly made my way toward the fellow police officers, I thought about shoving this guy into the bushes then making a mad dash through the campus until I reached the bus stop on Willamette Boulevard. One excellent shoulder shove might be enough to land my escort into the shrubbery, leaving me with a chance to sprint through Buckley and make it out the doors on the far end of the building, then if I booked it by the Bennett and Turnay dorms, the bus stop was right there. Then a bus would come along and I…oh who was I kidding? The other two cops would shoot me down in a heartbeat if I managed to thwart their partner, but since my guide was watching me like a hawk, there was no chance of escape.

To be honest, I had brought this upon myself. If I had become a reclusive, introverted shut-in like the majority of sociopaths, I wouldn’t be in handcuffs. I had stupidly fallen back in love with Hayley, all the while she was learning of my horrible malfeasants. Not only was the blonde on to me but thanks to my inability to lie to my religious confidante I had permanently sealed my fate.

I could see it now; the police would ask me a bunch of questions about the murders. I suppose lying was a possibility, but Father O’Connor said Hayley had unearthed dirt on me, which she probably already told the cops.

In my mind, my murders came across as feats of perfection. I hadn’t left a scrap of evidence behind, but sadly my dark murmurs were wrong. Hayley had something, but I couldn’t remember what. My sleep deprivation probably contributed to this memory loss. Despite the blonde’s evidence, if my favorite priest gave the police his take on my heated discussion with Quinn or informed them of my confession, I had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting away with my devious deeds.