Crestview's autumn was a crisp, golden season. Cameron slowly began to map its rhythms. The library became his true home, a fortress of silence where he could work on two parallel tracks…his demanding coursework and his personal, secret investigation.
The encounter with Leah had left a faint, warm feeling. He saw her sometimes in the dining hall or the science building. She'd give him a small, casual wave when she sees him, never pushing for more conversation. It was the perfect distance he is currently comfortable with. It allowed Cameron, for the first time, to observe normal social interactions from people around without immediate panic. He saw study groups forming, heard laughter echoing in the quads, watched friends sharing complaints about their professors. It was like watching wildlife from behind the screen. It was fascinating and foreign at the same time, but no longer terrifying.
He used his scholarship laptop, secured on the university network, to search deeper. The Sterling lead was a lighthouse in a stormy night, leading and drawing him in. He created a hidden, encrypted file. He listed every piece of information in it, no matter how small.
· Willow Creek Foundation: Major donor (18 yrs ago) - Sterling Family Holdings Trust.
· Sterling Global: President - Alexander Sterling (Age 34?). Holdings: Tech, Media, Biopharma, Aerospace. Private.
· Family: Media profiles mention a tragedy. Lost a child? (Unconfirmed. Need primary source.)
· Physical: No public images of missing child. No age progression renders ever released. (Unusual for wealthy families- indicates extreme privacy or… something else.)
The most puzzling clue was the lack of a public search. If a family like the Sterlings had lost a child, why wasn't it a global news story? Why were there no heartfelt speeches on television? It feels like they wanted it to be a secret or they feared that the child would be in danger if made public. The latter thought sent a chill down his spine.
He needed a primary source. Not just gossip columns, but financial records, old foundation reports. He spent nights creating an advanced web crawler, a skill he'd half-learned in his first life and now honed with desperate focus. Its purpose was to scan archived… .gov and .org … and domains for any non-public documents mentioning both "Willow Creek" and "Sterling" from that specific era. It was a digital fishing net cast into a sea of old data. It would take time.
His own survival was a more important. The quarterly "stipend" from Richard Reed had arrived, it was a passive-aggressive email attached. It was barely enough for textbooks. His freelance editing was now conducted from the privacy of his dorm and it has become his financial lifeline. He was "Cipher," a ghost who could turn disorganized literature notes into clear prose. The money flowed into his separate digital wallet, slowly growing into a pool of true independence.
——————
The first crack in his fragile peace came from an expected, yet still shocking, source.
It was a Saturday. Cameron was returning from a long run, hoping to sweat out the residue of a nightmare about Lucas's laughing face. His phone buzzed with an unfamiliar local number but he let it go to voicemail. A minute later, a text flashed up.
Hey Cam. It's Lucas. Got your number from your sis. I'm in town for a game. Surprise! Let's grab coffee. - L
The world tilted. Cameron stopped dead on the path, the autumn colors turning into grey. Lucas. Here. Now. A year ahead of schedule. Chloe had given him the number. Of course she had. It was a deliberate poison-tipped arrow shot into his new life.
His hands trembled so badly he almost dropped the phone. The shadow of the pain from the marble steps flared in his spine. He could smell Lucas's cologne, see the cold dismissal in his eyes as he offered to "clean up the mess."
His trauma response was immediate. 'Hide. Flee. Disappear'. He wanted to run back to his dorm, lock the door, and never come out. But a newer, harder voice surfaced, born from the fire of his second chance. 'No. He doesn't know. He thinks you're the same scared kid. Use that'.
He took a deep breath. He couldn't avoid this. If he hid, Lucas might come to campus. He might ask questions. Might dig. He had to control the plotline.
With shaky fingers, he typed a reply, mimicking the slightly awkward, eager tone of his eighteen-year-old self from before the betrayal.
"Lucas? Wow, hey! That's a surprise. I'm swamped with midterms. Maybe a quick coffee tomorrow?"
The reply was instant. "Sure thing. There's a place downtown called The Grind. See you at noon?"
"Sure. See you then."
He put the phone away, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs. He had just made a date with his murderer. It was so absurd that it almost made him laugh, a hollow, desperate sound.