The Will To

T H I R T Y - T H R E E (it's watching, not stalking)

I'd almost worn my camo pants today. Almost. It'd been tempting when I stood in front of my closet that morning, shuffling through items of clothing. Instead, I opted for a pair of black pants and a gray turtleneck. I'd still blend in. But, still, my fingers gravitated for my camo pants.

Since the latest rape on Greek Row, I'd been taking matters into my own hands—more so than normal. Dan had explained that Victor was known to carry around the date rape drug, which apparently didn't warrant a reason to investigate him, considering the women didn't have the drug in their system. Victor was off the hook as far as I was aware, free to continue slipping rohypnol into the drinks of unsuspecting women.

So, I was doing the work for the campus police department.

I wasn't trained in the art of trailing by any means. Even if my situation was different and I wasn't recognized all over campus, I still wouldn't have been great at tracking. That was why I thought the camo pants might come in handy. (Plus, the thought of wearing camo to covertly watch Victor hang outside the Mathematics building during lunch warmed my annoyed heart.) But, I went with the black pants, thinking they'd be a bit more discreet.

Other than keeping an eye on him at Greek parties, I hadn't discovered much about Victor. One thing I had learned was that he spent his lunch hour outside the Mathematics building, sitting on a bench underneath an oak tree. It'd have been sweet if he wasn't an asshole.

I learned this when I had to visit my statistics professor near the end of last semester to inquire about the final. On my way out, I'd noticed Victor on his bench, talking furtively to a guy who left soon after. I'd parked myself on a circular table on the grass just off from the sidewalk, pretending to be texting.

Victor had one other guy visit him in the thirty minutes I'd spent watching him, the encounter looking very similar to the first. The guy appeared and then he left.

Starting before break, I'd returned to the circular table to watch Victor four times, and he'd been present two of those times. Today was my fifth endeavor, and as I watched Victor talk with some guy, I could have sworn I saw an exchange occur.

The suspicion of a drug deal had obviously crossed my mind, considering it wasn't a secret that he'd been in possession of the date rape drug in the past. But, this instance proved it true. When Victor slung his backpack over his shoulder and traipsed down the sidewalk, I stowed my belongings and followed after him.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for. More proof, I guessed. If I could get more proof that Victor was dispensing the date rape drug, maybe the police would deem him a worthy suspect, or at least, worth investigating.

Victor walked with a swagger, slowly and unevenly, down the sidewalk. I stayed about thirty feet behind him and kept my phone out as a means of disguise, in case he happened to glance over his shoulder. When we made it to the parking lot, he dug out his keys and a beep rang through the air. Victor located his car and drove off, leaving me stranded in the clearing parking lot.

I wasn't disappointed by any means; I'd discovered more than I knew before. I was fairly certain Victor was selling the date rape drug during his lunch hour.

When I arrived at my apartment later that afternoon, Nola was sipping tea at her desk in front of her computer. She glanced up when the door shut.

"You're back early. No two-a-day lifting session for you?"

"No," I said, throwing myself onto the couch. "I'm exhausted. Criminal justice was brutal today. My professor wants us to read and memorize about fifty pages of laws, which I attempted doing while I was watching Victor this afternoon—"