Katie Moon [Moon - A Master’s in Murder

Katie Moon

A Master's in Murder

Copyright 2019 by Katie Moon

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Katie Moon asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

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First edition

Editing by McKay Strong

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With love, to my husband Michael I love you and I like you. Your support is what made this possible. You gave me the courage to write.

S he was drowning.

Claire could feel the water brushing gently past her arms, and her mind screamed for her arms to move, to grab onto something, to pull herself out. They continued to float there, two dead weights sinking deeper and deeper into the shadowy abyss.

How had she gotten here? Hadnt she been walking down the sidewalk from her apartment only minutes ago? She struggled to remember, but she couldnt see past the fuzzy haze in her head. The back of her skull throbbed angrily, a dull echo of pain shooting through her body with every ache. She could feel her lungs tightening, begging for oxygen.

Claire forced open her heavy eyelids. The churning surface was just inches above her. She could see a shadowy figure moving around, blurry under the murky water. If she could just reach out

But it was no use. She dropped lower and lower, the surface drifting further and further away. In desperation, she let out a scream that no one would ever hear.

With the first mouthful of water, everything went black.

B rielle sat cross-legged on her bed, desperately skimming her notes. Pages upon pages were scattered around the room, covered in highlights, sticky notes, and scribbled annotations. Index cards were feverishly pitched around the room, as if a small tornado had spitefully decided to target only this room. Pictures of a smiling man and woman standing with their cheering daughter in a basketball uniform had been covered by a poster-sized dry-erase board, which displayed more red marker than white background from all of the notes squeezed onto it.

This test was make or break. If she earned higher than an 86%, Brielle would be set in her GPA to qualify for the graduate program in Cognitive Psychology. She couldnt imagine anything else she wanted more. Brielle had been a UNC fanatic since she was six years old, when her father had taken her to watch the basketball team play against their rivals, the Duke Blue Devils. The court had been a wave of baby and navy blue, and the fans had stormed and cheered like huge crashes of the sea.

As the UNC team scored the final basket, her dad had swept her up, and the cheers exploded throughout the stadium. Confetti rained down from the ceiling, and her father pointed down to the court as they watched the team tackle each other in bear hugs.

Brielle checked the clock again and felt a renewed bolt of desperation: it was nearly 8 AM. She needed to be in the classroom by 8:05 or she would be deducted an immediate 15% off the test. Her professor did not mess around with tardiness. She jumped off her bed and threw her hair up into a messy bun atop her head. Pausing only to shoot a quick look in the mirror, Brielle reflected on how her sense of style had died with each passing day of the semester. Any desire to appear attractive had been turned to sweatpants, sweatshirts, and messy ponytail of swaying brown waves. She wasnt too worried about it, though, because three-fourths of the college women on campus had adopted that style as well. No one had time to care about appearance when they were living and breathing their classes in the final weeks of term.

Brielle trundled up the hill, puffing out white clouds in the frigid air. Everyday she thought grumpily about how much she hated this hill, and today was no different. I didnt think Id have to climb a mountain every day going to class, she thought disdainfully. Suddenly, she felt a buzzing in her pocket. Reluctantly pulling her hand out of her coat pocket, she read the name on the blinking phone: MOMMA. Glancing quickly around before the crossed the street onto main campus, she held the phone up to her ear and clicked ACCEPT.

Hi, Mom, Brielle panted. She could see the building where her test was being held, and again quickened her pace.

Hi, Brilly. Brielle had been called Brilly by her parents ever since she was little, when she was trying to learn how to say her own name and could only bring herself to say Brilly. Test is this morning, right? How are you feeling?

Like I havent slept for months, while somehow also being so pumped up on caffeine that Ill never sleep again. But as for the test, I think I can do it. I dont know. I definitely feel like I did everything I can possibly do. Well see if thats enough to cut it.

Her mom laughed. Well, dont worry. You know, if UNC doesnt pan out, there are still several options closer to home! So really, if you make it, youll have a ton to celebrate. And if you dont make it, Ill have a ton to celebrate, her mother teased, and then said in a more serious tone, But all joking aside, you are brilliant, a hard worker, and a wonderful student, so Im sure everything will work out.

Brielle rolled her eyes but laughed nonetheless. Even coming from a UNC household, as the only child to her two parents, her mother had been broken up to see Brielle moving across the country. Even though she was bursting with pride to see her succeeding at her own alma mater, Brielles mother never missed an opportunity to encourage Brielle to come closer to home.

Ill keep that in mind. Im happy to know youll be cheering if I miss out on my dream.

Brielle could almost picture her mothers jovial smile as she heard her laugh echo through the phone. What are moms for, right? she responded jokingly.

Brielle had just reached the door to her building. Are you sure you didnt call to make me late so that I automatically am marked down, and I have to come home to study? she accused playfully as she slid through the heavy doors to the warm lobby.

Drat, you figured out my plan.

Ha ha. Well plan foiled. Im here, gotta go, said Brielle.

Good luck! Love you, responded her mom, and Brielle clicked END, then held down the power button to shut off the phone.

As she rushed into the classroom, she glanced at the clock. 8:01. Nodding quickly to the professor, who acknowledged her with a slightly disapproving glance at the clock and nod, Brielle grabbed the test booklet set at the doorway and found the closest open seat. Time to make it count.

***

Eric had never minded the cold. As he walked down the sidewalk toward campus, he watched happily as large white puffs escaped his mouth every time he exhaled. He had grown up never getting to experience true seasons, so getting to feel the highs and lows of the weather here somehow made it more exciting for him. He was one of the few who felt that way, of course. Brielle thought he was crazy for that.