Daphne
By the time I got to class, news of the attack was all over campus. People had already started piling flowers, teddy bears and votive candles around the fountain in memory of Francine Richter, the pretty blond art student who had met her end on the hiking trail near the creek.
Rumors were flying wildly, debating why she had been out on that trail at night. She had a steady boyfriend, but some said they had a fight, and she just needed to get out to clear her head. Some said she was meeting a lover in secret in the woods. Some said she’d gone out there on a dare. It didn’t seem like anyone, including the police, had the answer.
I wondered how Nate had known about it first thing this morning. Perhaps, since he worked in security, they had access to a police scanner. Or may
