The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

“This is a P.O. Box,” Vega said tapping the sponsor’s information—a Mr. John Smith. “Do you have a physical address for him?”

“No, I’m sorry,” the headmistress said. “That would be the only information.”

“At least there’s a phone number,” I said.

Vega squinted as though my voice were an irritant.

“Are there any other questions I can answer?” Mrs. Poole asked.

I was about to shake my head when Vega surprised me by asking, “Did Alexandra have a roommate?”

“She did. Dominique Easly.”

“I’d like to have a word with her.”

Mrs. Poole looked at her wristwatch. “Right now? The girls are all asleep.”

“It’s important,” Vega said.

23

“Is Alexandra in some kind of trouble?” The colored beads at the end of Dominique’s cornrows clicked as she looked from Vega to me and back.

“We don’t think so,” Vega replied. “We just have a few questions.”

Vega was sitting on the other end of Alexandra’s old bed from me. She hadn’t used we to be inclusive, but to put Dominique at ease. The young woman sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite us was tense, fingers picking at the tassels of a throw pillow.

I glanced around a room that I could have sworn carried traces of spent magic, but nothing suggested that Dominique dabbled. Her room was a hodgepodge of school books, stuffed animals, and posters of inspirational messages, favorite singers, and shirtless hunks. Standard dormitory décor.

“What do you want to ask?” she said.

“How long have you known Alexandra?” Vega began.

“Since freshman year, but we didn’t really become friends until last year.”

“Is that when you decided to become roommates?” Vega asked.

“Yeah.”

“Your headmistress said she started acting out,” Vega said. “Missing classes. Do you know why?”

Dominique shrugged and dropped her eyes.

“Did you notice any changes?” Vega pressed. “Did she seem like a different person?”

“She just lost interest in some things,” Dominique said, her gaze still lowered.

“When did she start using drugs?” I cut in, a shot in the dark. In my peripheral vision, fury radiated from Vega’s eyes. But when Dominique’s own eyes jumped up, they were large and rimmed with worry.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

She was too young to be a convincing liar. Vega must have seen it, too.

“You’re not going to get anyone in trouble,” Vega said. “Whatever you say stays between us. Not even Mrs. Poole will know. We just want to help Alexandra.”

Dominique glanced at her closed door, as though the headmistress might be standing inside it, then back at us. She sighed and leaned her arms against her thighs. “It was stupid,” she said quietly.

“What was stupid?” Vega asked.

“I was visiting my aunt and uncle in the city this summer. They live in Brooklyn, sort of a junky neighborhood. Wasn’t always that way, but after the Crash…” Vega and I both nodded for her to continue. “Anyway, I ducked over to the corner bodega for some coffee one morning, and I saw this tiny white envelope right outside the door, like someone had accidentally dropped it.”

“Heroin,” Vega said.

Dominique nodded. “I put it in my pocket and brought it back to the school. It was stupid. I could have been expelled, but I’d never done anything like that. I just wanted to understand what it was, how it could destroy lives, whole neighborhoods. But I was afraid to do it alone.”

“So you talked Alexandra into trying some, too,” I said.

“I swear it was only a little bit.” Tears stood in Dominique’s eyes. “Like this much.” She pinched her first finger and thumb together. “And we didn’t shoot it, we sniffed it, and then flushed the rest away.”

Vega frowned. “Then what happened?”

“Well, you know, the drug started working. And yeah, it was strong. Real strong. I felt like I was riding these huge waves. But Alexandra, she turned into some kind of a monster.”

I sat up straight. “Monster?”

“You know, storming around the room, knocking down furniture, throwing things. She cracked the window with her fist. Then she left. It was nighttime, eleven o’clock, and she didn’t come back till the next day.”

“Did she say where she’d gone?” Vega asked.

“She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t want to talk about it.”

I snuck a look at Vega, whose eyebrows were bent in thought.

“But, yeah, she was different,” Dominique said quietly. “She slept all the time, for one. That’s why she was missing so much class. And when she was awake, she just wasn’t there. She had the best laugh. Infectious, you know? But after that night, I never heard it again.”

“Was she going out at night?” Vega asked.

Dominique nodded. “A few times I woke up, and she wasn’t in her bed. I never asked her about it, though. A couple of times I saw blood on her clothes. She was starting to scare me.” Dominique’s lips moved silently before she was able to frame her next question. “Can heroin … can it cause, you know … mental illness?”

“No,” Vega said. “It’s been known to exacerbate existing conditions, though.”

“Oh God.” Tears leaked from Dominique’s eyes, and she wrung the pillow on her lap. “I did it to her.” Her next words came out as sobs. “I made her s-s-sick.”

“If that’s what happened,” Vega said, “you couldn’t have known. It was stupid, but you couldn’t have known.”

Dominique nodded reluctantly and wiped her eyes with the collar of her cotton nightshirt.

“Have you heard from Alexandra since she left?” I asked.

“No. She didn’t even say goodbye. When I left for class one morning, she was still in bed. When I came back after lunch, she was history, half her closet cleaned out.”

“Do you know where she might have gone?” Vega asked.

Dominique shook her head.

“The city, maybe?” Vega prompted.

“Maybe. I have no idea.”

I thought about what Mrs. Poole had said regarding someone paying her tuition. “Did you ever meet the person sponsoring her to attend Hangar Hall?” I asked. “A Mr. Smith?”

“Sponsor?” Dominique said. “I didn’t even know she had one.”

“Alexandra never mentioned him?” Vega asked.

“Nun-uh.”

“Where would Alexandra go on holidays and summer breaks?” I asked.

“She was a foster kid—no relatives—so