Chapter 7
Emily's POV
Back at the station, Daniel had been busy digging through Brian's phone records and social media.
"Brian belonged to an extreme sports group with sixteen members," Daniel explained, pointing to his computer screen. "They call themselves 'The Limitless.' They do everything from base jumping to cave diving."
"Any leads on the woman from the elevator footage?" Michael asked.
"Actually, yes." Daniel pulled up an enhanced image. "We identified her as Anna Bright, twenty-one, sports education major at Underwood University."
"Have you contacted her?" I asked.
"Tried three times," Daniel replied. "No answer. I left messages, but nothing."
"We should find her. Daniel, keep trying her phone, check her social media for recent activity. We need to know if she's safe."
I scrolled through Anna's Instagram page. "Look at this," I said, pointing to a photo of Anna with a muscular guy with a buzz cut. The caption read: Miss you already, babe. Come home safe. "Posted three days ago. Could be relevant."
"Let's go to Underwood University," Michael decided. "If we can't reach her by phone, we'll find her in person."
Underwood University's campus was bustling with students rushing between classes. The student guidance office was housed in a redbrick building with ivy climbing its walls.
"Anna Bright? Let me check her schedule," said the middle-aged guidance counselor, adjusting her glasses as she peered at her computer. "She should be in Sports Psychology class right now, Edwards Hall, room 203."
When we arrived at the classroom, students were streaming out. The counselor, who had insisted on accompanying us, pointed to a young woman with auburn hair tied in a ponytail.
"Anna Bright?" Michael called, holding up his badge.
The girl froze, her eyes darting between us and the exit. For a split second, I thought she might make a run for it.
"Police? What the fuck?" Her voice was loud enough to turn heads in the hallway. "I didn't do anything!"
The counselor frowned at Anna's language. "Miss Bright, please watch your tone. These officers just want to ask you some questions."
"Let's talk somewhere private," Michael suggested.
The counselor led us to her office. She cleared some space and gestured for us to sit.
"Anna, we'd like to talk to you about Brian Coleman," I said, watching her reaction carefully.
Her shoulders tensed. "Brian? What about him?"
"When was the last time you saw him?" Michael asked.
"The night before last. I went to his apartment to ask about Chris." Her voice cracked slightly on the name.
"Chris?" I prompted.
"My boyfriend," Anna pulled out her phone and showed us the same photo I'd seen on Instagram. "He's been missing for three days. No calls, no texts. Brian and Chris are—were—friends in the same extreme sports group."
"Then what happened?" Michael asked.
"Nothing useful. He was acting weird—all jumpy and excited. Kept checking his phone. When I asked about Chris, he just said he hadn't seen him." Anna shook her head. "He wouldn't let me into the bathroom. Stood in front of the door like he was guarding it or something."
I noticed Anna's eyes fixating on a paper cutter on the desk. She looked away and casually placed a file over them.
"Has Brian had any conflicts with anyone recently?" Michael continued.
"No, he was pretty popular. But there was one thing we didn't expect," she paused. "He was actually afraid of lightning."
"What happened?" I asked, casually sliding my hand toward the paper cutter.
Anna let out a short, humorless laugh. "Two weeks ago at a friend's house, lightning struck nearby and knocked out the power. Brian broke down—curled up in the corner, shaking and hyperventilating."
"After being mocked that night, he rarely joined our extreme activities," she added.
"Did he ever try to overcome this fear?" Michael asked.
"Recently, yeah. He posted on our group chat that he was 'confronting his biggest fear.' Everyone gave him shit about it. Fearless Brian afraid of a little shock? The guys wouldn't let it go."
As Anna spoke, I deliberately moved the paper cutter closer to her. Her reaction was immediate—she jerked back, her breathing quickening.
"What about you, Anna?" I asked softly. "Any fears of your own?"
"What's that got to do with anything?" Her eyes remained fixed on the paper cutter, body tensed as if ready to flee.
I picked it up casually, turning it in my hand. Anna visibly flinched, her face draining of color.
"Sharp objects make you uncomfortable," I observed. "Aichmophobia—fear of pointed objects."
"So what if they do?" she snapped, but her voice shook. "Ever since I was a kid, okay? Had a bad accident with a paper cutter."
Michael stepped in. "Anna, where did you go after leaving Brian's apartment?"
"The Hideaway, a bar downtown. Stayed until closing." She finally tore her eyes away from the paper cutter I was still holding.
"We'll need to verify that," Michael said.
"Go ahead. The bartender knows me. Half the place saw me crying into my beer."
Michael nodded to me. We had what we needed for now.
"If we have more questions, we'll be in touch."
"Can you help me find out where my boyfriend went?" Anna looked at us pleadingly.
"Do you have his photo and information?" I asked.
"His name is Chris Morris, around 30, he's an advertising designer. He has a place locally, but I don't know the exact address. I think it's in the East District."
"Sounds like you don't know your boyfriend very well," I remarked.
"Even though we've only known each other for a few days, it was love at first sight," she retorted.
"All right, we'll keep an eye out," I promised, already becoming suspicious about Chris. This might be connected to him somehow.
Outside, Michael pulled out his phone. "Daniel, I need you to check The Hideaway bar downtown. Verify if Anna Bright was there two nights ago from approximately 8 PM until closing."
Soon, Michael's phone buzzed with a text. "Daniel confirms Anna's alibi. Multiple witnesses place her at The Hideaway from 8:15 PM until 2 AM. Bartender remembers her clearly—said she was upset and drank heavily."
"So she's not our killer," I concluded. "But she might have given us our next lead."
"Chris," Michael agreed. "We need to investigate him."
