Lies, Textbooks, and Leprechauns

Chapter 8: Recovery

Kristian's fingers trembled slightly as he pinned the photograph to the corkboard of the makeshift memorial. The image captured laughter, a moment frozen in a time when he was still happy. Beneath it, the note card clung, the Sharpie message stark against its pale surface: "12 steps to a better life, Lori. I will miss you."

"Didn't expect to see you back on campus," came Rob's voice, as he approached the memorial, taking in the pictures and messages left by Lori's friends and family.

Kristian turned, towering over Rob as he glared at him. "We aren't exactly friends, are we, Rob? Why would I report my comings and goings to you?"

"Fair point." Rob stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his gaze drifting to the photo. "You and Lori were close, then?"

"Group counselling, we both had some issues," Kristian said, his voice flat. "It doesn't make us friends."

"Yet here you are," Rob observed, nodding toward the memorial.

"The only real friend I had is dead," Kristian muttered, both boys looked down at the ground, Rob knowing he was talking about Olivia.

Rob shifted uncomfortably, but when he spoke again, his tone was scholarly, almost detached. "You know they say there is a gene that can determine whether you are likely to become addicted to things or not. Did you know that? It is genetic, not really the person's fault at all. We can't change the way we were born."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kristian interjected, looking back up at the growing memorial. "Not quite following."

"I think someone is targeting people who struggle with addictions," Rob explained, his eyes darkening. "Shannon, Cliff and Nemo were all killed while being recovering alcoholics. Her fiance claims she wasn't one but..."

"She wasn't one, she only drank on special occasions" Kristian offered, his expression both inquisitive and solem.

"So my theory is off," Rob conceded. His eyes scanned over the memorial until they landed on Kristian's note. "Wait, this talks about the twelve steps. Isn't that an AA thing? Maybe she didn't tell anyone about it. If Lori..."

"the twelve-step program isn't just for alcoholics," Ahmed cut in, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "It was painkillers, she was in a car accident. It really messed up her leg."

"Painkillers," Rob echoed, as he rubbed his chin in thought. "Maybe my idea was too specific, maybe having any addiction could make you a target. If she was in the program trying to get clean—that also tracks with the others."

"What do you think she was in group for?" Kristian said, rolling his eyes, "Now can you please get out of here, some of us are trying to mourn."

"Right, sorry," Rob gave Kristian a worried look, Kristian was in the same group as Lori—he was a possible target, and now they both knew it. Rob walked away from the memorial, a look of worry drawn across his face.

---

Out in the university parking lot, Deb's fingers worked quickly to rework the wires under the steering wheel. The car's engine roared to life, and she flashed John a triumphant grin. "There we go," she said, patting the steering wheel. "Now, listen closely. If this goes sideways I will deny everything."

John nodded, hands gripping the leather wheel with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Deb stepped away from the car, her black hair whipping around her petite frame as she shut the door, leaving John alone in the stolen vehicle.

"Remember, don't get caught," Deb called out, stepping back onto the curb.

John revved the engine, taking a deep breath. He eased the car forward, picking up speed as he navigated the parking lot labyrinth. With each turn, his confidence surged.