CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DOPAMINE

( — a catecholamine neurotransmitter in the central nervous system, retina, and sympathetic ganglia, acting within the brain to help regulate movement and emotion. )

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          IF THEY WANT A WAR, THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT THEY'RE GOING TO GET. By attempting to pit them against each other, doing exactly the opposite of what they had mentioned the experiment entailed, the researchers have only made the participants begin to develop closer bonds with each other (though a tiny voice in the back of Rhiannon's head whispers that's what they want).

          Rhiannon knows she's spending more time at the house than she's supposed to, much to Isla's dismay, especially because they barely see each other nowadays, but also because she fears Rhiannon might be wandering into dangerous territory. Rhiannon agrees with her, at least partially, but she'd also like to believe she's doing this for the greater good.

          Rowan is discharged from the hospital at the beginning of December. Rhiannon only knows this through Isla, who has been a lot calmer now that he's seemingly out of danger, despite having temporarily lost his voice, but she's glad he managed to escape mostly unscathed. Taylor wasn't as lucky, unfortunately, but Rhiannon has heard the police is now working extra hard to not let this turn into a cold case.

          Personally, she thinks they should have been putting this much effort since the very beginning; they're certainly not omnipresent or omnipotent, but she still saw them slowly give up on finding her alive as the days went by. No, Rhiannon wouldn't have done a better job, but, then again, it wasn't her job and she already has too much on her plate; between attending her lectures, spending time at the Project Oxygen house, winging her way through assignments, tests and essays, she barely has any time to sit back and do anything else.

          It gets even worse when she gets a D on her Brain and Cognition test.

          Chase Fowler, the guy who slammed a baseball bat against Rowan's leg a few months ago, threw her a look full of superiority as she checked her grade on the list. Her professor, for some unknown reason, enjoys hanging the list of grades by her office, which, naturally, leads to massive lines being formed just so one can catch a glimpse of their grade and everyone else's because this entire university revolves around competition.

          He got an A, a certain improvement from the B he got last time, but she's the one who's dangerously close to failing the course.

          If she hears someone else tell her it's not the end of the world, she's going to flip. She's competitive too, damn it, even if she doesn't take it as far as her classmates do, and her parents spent years of her life teaching her she should always aim for the top instead of being happy with mediocrity. They also didn't teach her to step over other people, having to use her own skills and intellect to succeed, and she can always improve.

          Thus, she decides to swallow her pride on a Saturday morning. There's barely anyone in the house, as she might as well have been the only one of them stupid enough to spend more time there than the required four weekly days, but she's still not alone. For example, Dimitri is standing by a window, holding a mug of coffee with one hand and scrolling down his phone with the other.

          She never knows what to do or what to say around him. If she was in his shoes, she'd want people to treat her like a regular person, someone who has their own identity outside of a relationship, but, when she looks at him, all she can think about is that night last week when they found Taylor's body. She remembers the horror twisting his facial features and how white his face turned, a clear difference from the usual gentle brown tone of his skin.

          That's not something you can easily forget, especially in the span of a week. He's quieter than he previously was, if that's even possible, but there's something different, perhaps in the flames burning in his eyes whenever someone mentions they need justice. It's there whenever someone states the researchers must know something.

          "There's coffee, if you'd like some," he declares, without lifting his stare from the screen of his phone, when he hears her walk past him. Rhiannon stops, with a hand set over the railing, and he raises the porcelain mug. "In the kitchen. Freshly brewed."

          "Oh," she blabbers, fingers curled around a wooden decorative ball, "thanks."

          "Sure." He pauses just to glance up at her, seeing as she hasn't moved an inch. "You're going out this early?"

          "Yeah." She fixes her backpack's strap over her shoulder. "I need to double-check my test with my professor, just to make sure she was in the wrong instead of me."

          "Oh, yikes." His lips twist into a shadow of a smile. "I get those a lot. Unfortunately, it turns out it was my mistake, not theirs."

          "Hopefully, that won't be the case with me." She sighs softly, and he nods. "I'll be heading out, then. Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

          Rhiannon doesn't stop for coffee. She can feel the scent of it emanating from the kitchen as soon as she takes a step downstairs, as it would be awfully hard to miss, especially in the absence of any other strong smells, and she has been so dependent on caffeine her reward systems active almost immediately. However, there's no time for stopping.

          The things she manages to ignore as she crosses the living room in quick steps are the surveillance cameras. They've all gotten somewhat used to their presence, and, though it still feels like they're contestants in a reality show, with Northrop and McCall watching them like caged animals, it's almost easy to forget they're there.

          With Brooklyn being used to being in the spotlight, she has taught them how to ignore the public ("and no, picturing the audience without any clothes on isn't the best approach you can take," she tells them), things get slightly easier to handle. The problem is that nothing is ever as simple as this, even if it manages to fool you for a little while.

          Rhiannon would be happy if everything could be solved just by pretending the cameras aren't there. To make matters even worse, even Jude feels distant, even when they're together; even though he keeps insisting there's nothing wrong, other than him being so worried about finals, Rhiannon knows him well enough to not believe him. She wants to, really, but she also wishes he'd open up sometimes; after all, she can't be the only one of them who talks about any problems clouding their minds.

          Surprisingly, she managed to forget all the professors belonging to the Psychology Department have their offices sitting all next to each other, meaning she's highly likely to run into Beatrice or Frances; this only happens because they're rarely in the control room at the same time during the day, even on weekends.

          Gritting her teeth, Rhiannon crosses the hallways, searching for her Brain and Cognition professor's office, wishing she had memorized the room number as well, as it would make her task a lot easier than simply looking for name plaques. It's times like these that make her regret having signed up for that damn course in the first place and having let Matteo talk her into scheduling an interview for the experiment.

          Maybe she's dramatic. Maybe she doesn't care.

          It turns out Beatrice is the one sitting in their control room—either that or there's no one there, which doesn't sound plausible, as someone has to be taking notes. Rhiannon fears Connor might be there, even though he definitely shouldn't be getting so involved with the experiment or with her (especially with her), but she still tries to shove that thought away from her head.

          She finds this out when Frances' voice echoes in the hallway she's crossing, coming from his office, wherever it is. It makes her instantly come to a halt, frozen in her place, as she tries to figure out where the sound is coming from to ensure she'll be able to walk past it unnoticed. However, he's not talking to himself; moments later, Laura's voice follows his.

          Sutton's voice echoes in her head, repeating all the snarky comments she kept making about Frances and Laura, but believing they're awfully true is horribly far-fetched, not to mention illegal. She shudders just by thinking about that, but also remembers Laura might have questions regarding the experiment (mostly because, at this point, no one thinks the researchers are being fully honest with them) or about anything related to academics, so it might not be that bad.

         It doesn't stop her from following their voices to eavesdrop, though. It's not in her nature to do this, especially because she values her own privacy, with so many people trying to pry into her personal life, but her gut tells her Frances is shady. She just doesn't know at what point.

          ". . . she knew something," Laura says, when Rhiannon stops walking, heart incessantly thudding against her rib cage. She stops next to the door, with her professor's office being only two doors away, so it's not as suspect as if she was standing on the other side of the hallway. "Hailey thinks she did, but . . ."

          "But what?" Frances questions, and Rhiannon hears him flip through a pile of papers. "I'm not sure how Hailey fits into this story."

          "They were friends," Laura remarks, "since Taylor's freshman year."

          "And?"

          "And Hailey thinks that's what got her killed. She knew too much."

          "Laura, frankly"—the exasperation in Frances' voice is hard to miss and Rhiannon has to cover her mouth and nose with her hand, fearing her breathing might be loud enough to be heard by them—"I think you're overreacting. If Taylor knew anything whatsoever about whatever it was, she would have let it out before disappearing."

          "Wasn't she your student, though?"

          "She was, hence why I kept hearing from other people how much of a gullible, chatty gossip she was and how she didn't know how to keep her mouth shut." He closes his briefcase with a soft click. "God. I really shouldn't be talking about my students this way, especially dead ones."

          Laura chuckles, but Rhiannon still finds the subtlest hint of nervousness in it. "It's not like you're known for your warmth, is it?"

          "I'm also known for not being present at the scene or even in the state when these things happen. I was in the control room on the night she was found."

          Rhiannon knits her brows together, as this is something she never saw coming, but, whoever killed Taylor has done a sloppy job; doing something like that in a town where everyone knows each other is something only a foreigner would do and she remembers how Frances was absent for a few days. Therefore, if Laura had any suspicions, they have just been debunked, especially considering he was in Philadelphia at the time—Rhiannon even saw him on the news, receiving an award.

          She has heard the rumors. Whoever did it knew her, but didn't know the town and its inhabitants. No local would be foolish enough to pull such a stunt.

          "I also don't enjoy spending time with students on my days off," he continues, and his footsteps get closer, forcing Rhiannon to silently sprint towards the staircase before any of them see her. "These kids can be absolutely insufferable sometimes."

          "You tell me," Beatrice agrees, standing inside the office as well, and Rhiannon runs against the railing with a start, nearly falling over it to the bottom floor. The bottom of her rib cage slams against the wood and she gasps with the impact. "Still, it's truly unfortunate what happened to Taylor, though. I can't believe someone would ever do something like that to that poor girl."

          "Yeah," Frances sighs. "The police have already taken our statements, Laura, by the way, and both our alibis have been confirmed," he quickly adds. "You saw me accept that award."

          "I never said I agreed with her," Laura dryly clarifies, "and everyone knows none of you did it, even if they hate you. You had no motive or opportunity, and there's concrete proof of that. It's just . . . Hailey doesn't know who she can trust at this point, alright? The only person she trusts right now is Gabriella, and we know Gabriella didn't kill Taylor because they're attached at the hip." She sighs. "You guys are clear."

          "You should tell Hailey she needs to find a new hobby," Beatrice advises, "before this gets her in trouble with whoever actually did it. I'm sure they'd love to get some credit and would hate it if they knew someone else was getting it in their place."

          "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" Frances quotes. "Who will guard the guards themselves? Thankfully, there are more powerful people than us mere professors at this university. Thankfully."

          Laura gasps. "The chancellor?"

          "We didn't mean to drag him into the middle of this," Beatrice confesses, "but, then again, we never thought we'd be getting involved either. We protect whoever we have to protect and it's our duty to stay quiet about it. Miss Palmer, if there isn't anything else we can help you with, we'd advise you to not ask us questions we can't answer."

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          RHIANNON IS OUT OF BREATH BY THE TIME SHE MAKES IT TO HER DORM ROOM. She doesn't know why she does it, as Isla might not even be in there, but it's a risk she has to take; it's either that or returning to the experiment house, where no one will be willing to listen to her spill out everything she has just heard.

          It's not like Isla would be particularly excited about hearing what she has to say. She didn't find out anything relevant, as Hailey has been accusing everyone and their mother of having had anything to do with what happened to Taylor, even Roman, so no one really listens to her. The professors are innocent and, if she wants to find new reasons to hate them, hurting a student is not one of them.

          The reason why she wants to talk to Isla is because Rhiannon thinks they might be covering for whoever did it.

          They're innocent, though. That much is a given because, like they said back in Frances' office, their alibis have been confirmed (seeing as both of them were Taylor's professors and it's only natural that they were called in for a statement) and they had absolutely no reason to harm her. Even if whoever did it was a local, it must have been a student; if Taylor was as much of a chatty gossip as people say she was and if Laura thinks she might have found out something she shouldn't have, it makes sense for people wanting her to keep her mouth shut.

          Hell, there might even be multiple people involved.

          Rhiannon doesn't know who to trust either. Professors have the duty of protecting their students and that's what Beatrice and Frances are doing, hence why they want other people to find out the truth by their own means; the problem is that what they're doing might get them in trouble later on, as they might be withholding information from the police, but who's going to prove it?

          They might not be good people, for all Rhiannon knows, but they're doing the right thing for a student or even more, if that ends up being the case. Rhiannon would keep her mouth shut if Jude, Isla or Matteo had ever done something bad . . . but would try to convince them to come clean.

         Ironically, no one ever let her tell the truth about what she did two years ago. They simply swept it under the rug.

          Luckily, Isla is sitting on her bed, cleaning her glasses with a tiny cloth, and jumps on her place when the door slams open.

          "Jesus," she complains. "What the hell, Rhea?"

          "Whoever killed Taylor," she chokes out, "knew her. They knew her and knew she knew something she shouldn't. That's what got her killed. The professors are covering up for them." Rhiannon presses a hand against her side, as her lungs struggle to fill themselves with enough oxygen to keep her brain and body functional. Isla, alarmed, sets her glasses aside. "Your father is involved in this too."

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if you read counterfactual: this is where isla got her theory from. if you read triangle: you must know that latin phrase, as it's the tag line for FROST (dominic bb i miss you). it's also one of my favorites, even though i don't speak latin.

anyway: plot development! rhea eavesdropping on conversations! laura hanging out in professors' offices! frances and beatrice covering up for someone while being innocent themselves! WHO IS THAT SOMEONE THOUGH stay tuned for more scenes from the next episode