Chapter 4 – Close Encounters

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Chapter 3 Recap

Campus treats the Trinity Social incident like rumor until the whispers sharpen into real fear. Jamie tries to make sense of what happened, unsettled by Alex’s distance and the secrets he will not explain. Then a note slips from her jacket with a warning: You are next. Protect yourself. Someone knows more than they should.

Read Chapter 3 of the series.

Chapter 4 – Close Encounters: Trust on Thin Ice

Late October at Queen’s pulsed with activity. O-Week memories had yielded to FOCO chatter and Halloweekend plans, and even with midterms behind them, students crowded study tables and coffee lines. Weariness threaded through the noise in the set of their shoulders and the silence of their screens. 

Jamie sat with Riley on the stone steps outside Douglas Library, a scarf tucked under her chin. Leaves chased one another across University Avenue. 

“You survived midterms,” Riley said, nudging her shoulder. “Barely, from the look of you.” 

“I have not slept properly in days,” Jamie replied. 

“Same,” Riley sighed. “The Wellness Centre is offering one-on-one Wellness Coaching now. You can book a sleep-focused appointment, or try the MUJSE biofeedback mindfulness tool to help with focus and concentration.” 

“It might,” Jamie said. “My head has felt foggy since Trinity Social.” 

Riley studied her face. “You have seemed elsewhere. If talking helps, I am here.” 

“I know,” Jamie said softly. 

Rain lifted toward evening and left the stone shining. Streetlights caught the puddles like small mirrors, and the campus green reflected a soft silver. Jamie chose to walk rather than wait for the bus. The quiet filled her lungs in a way that felt almost like relief. 

Near the clock tower at Grant Hall, Alex stood with his hands tucked into his jacket. He smiled when he saw her. 

“Hey,” he said. “Trouble sleeping again?” 

“More like trouble stopping,” she answered. “My brain still thinks I am writing exams.” 

He laughed under his breath. “I tried cutting caffeine completely and ended up more tired with a headache. I am attempting a healthy routine. Sleep, actual food, movement.”

“That sounds responsible,” she teased. 

“It sounds boring,” he said, smiling. “But I am trying.” 

They fell into step along the path. Their silence was easy, and for a moment the campus felt like it belonged to them alone. 

“Promise me you will rest tonight,” he said at the library doors. 

“I will try,” she said. “You too.” 

“Deal.” 

The next day, Jamie spread her books in a quiet corner of Stauffer Library and watched the clouds gather beyond the window. Concentration slipped away whenever her thoughts returned to Trinity Social. She closed her laptop and pressed her fingers to her temples. 

Earlier that morning, Riley had mentioned hearing people talk in the dining hall about rumours about “that red-haired girl” showing up around campus again. Jamie had brushed it off then, but the memory surfaced now with a new kind of unease. 

Evening arrived before she felt ready to stop. Hunger finally made the decision for her. 

That evening, she cut across to the Athletics and Recreation Center to heat her dinner, since the ARC was closer than her residence. The building was nearly empty, the halls echoing with the distant thump of a basketball. Near the lounge, a Student Wellness stand displayed pamphlets. One read Testing is Caring — Protect Yourself. 

“They keep those out for a reason,” a voice said behind her. 

Jamie turned. A tall girl with vivid red hair leaned against the counter, a water bottle in hand. Recognition landed slowly, then all at once. 

“You were at Trinity Social,” Jamie said. “With Alex.” 

The girl’s smile was small. “You remember.” 

“Do you know him?” Jamie asked. 

“I did,” the girl said. “I am Mara.” 

“You are his ex,” Jamie said quietly. 

“That is one word for it.” Mara lifted the pamphlet, turning it over without reading. “He prefers secrets when he feels cornered. Calls it protecting people. I call it avoiding consequences.” 

Jamie’s pulse climbed. “What are you saying?” 

“People under pressure find ways to cope,” Mara said. “Some are safe. Some are not. If he offers anything that sounds like escape, say no. And protect yourself. In every way that matters.” 

“You think he is using something,” Jamie said. 

Mara’s silence answered more clearly than words. 

“Why warn me?” Jamie asked. 

“No one warned me,” Mara said. “I would rather you hear it now.” 

She set the pamphlet down beside the microwave and turned toward the glass doors. Jamie took a step after her. 

“How do you know my name?” Jamie called. 

Mara did not answer. The door closed with a soft seal, and her red hair vanished into the dark corridor. 

The microwave hummed in the quiet. Jamie realized her food had gone cold. 

Later, she stopped at Health Promotion on the fourth floor of the JDUC for a MUSE biofeedback mindfulness session. The guided meditation spoke in a calm voice, leading her through slow breaths and simple grounding. Three counts in. Three counts out. Bit by bit, the noise in Jamie’s head eased. 

Riley was asleep when Jamie returned to the room. The string lights along the wall gave the space a warm, peach glow. On the desk, the pamphlet from the ARC lay under her phone, its title clear in the lamplight: Testing is Caring — Protect Yourself. 

Her phone buzzed before she could sit. 

A new message from an unknown number appeared on the screen. 

You cannot trust him. Check Hawthorne’s basement. 

Another message arrived seconds later. 

Before he finds out you know. 

Wind rattled the window. Laughter drifted faintly from the courtyard beyond the residence. Jamie stared at the pamphlet again. The ink was smudged in one corner, shaped like a pale fingerprint. 

Heat gathered in her chest. Fear or resolve, she could not tell. 

Whatever had begun at Trinity Social now felt very close. 

She did not sleep. The messages kept circling through her mind, their rhythm matching Mara’s voice. Protect yourself. In every way that matters. 

Morning light finally pushed through the blinds. Riley had already gone to class. The room was still, quiet except for the soft hum of the radiator. Jamie sat up, turned on her laptop, and typed “Hawthorne Hall” into the search bar. 

Most results were harmless: student events, club meetings, a mention of a basement renovation from years earlier, but one link led to an archived forum thread. Several anonymous posts mentioned “something weird” stored down there after the Trinity Social. No details. Just fragments of worry. 

At lunch, Jamie met Riley at the ARC. Riley was talking about weekend plans, but Jamie’s mind was somewhere else. She caught herself scanning the room, half expecting Alex to appear. 

“You’re distracted,” Riley said. 

“Just tired,” Jamie replied quickly. “Still catching up.” 

Riley raised an eyebrow. “You and Alex still talking?” 

Jamie hesitated. “Sometimes. He’s been busy.” 

“Busy or avoiding?” 

Jamie tried to laugh. “You sound like my conscience.” 

“Someone has to,” Riley said. “Be careful, okay? People aren’t always who they seem.” 

That night, Jamie walked toward Hawthorne Hall under the excuse of returning a borrowed book. The old limestone walls caught the moonlight in uneven streaks. Inside, the air felt colder, quieter. On the lower level, the corridor narrowed and smelled faintly of cleaning solution and dust. 

A door at the end was marked Authorized Access Only. 

Jamie listened. For a moment, there was only silence. Then voices drifted faintly through the door, two of them. 

“…I told you it was handled,” Alex’s voice said. 

A second voice answered, tense and low. “Handled is not the same as gone.” 

Jamie stepped back, heart pounding, as the sound of movement followed. The door opened slightly, spilling a thin line of yellow light across the floor. 

As she turned to leave, her phone’s flashlight caught faint marks on the wall: smudges shaped like fingerprints, the kind left by someone who had waited there before. She shivered, realizing she might not be the first to listen at this door. 

She held her breath and flattened against the wall until it clicked shut again. Then footsteps faded up the hall. 

When she stepped forward, something crunched under her shoe. A torn Trinity Social wristband lay on the floor, the black print smudged but still visible. She picked it up, fingers trembling, before tucking it into her pocket. 

The next day, whispers followed her through the library. Two students near the printer glanced her way before one whispered, “That’s her. The girl Alex’s ex warned about.” Another murmured something about the “red-haired girl” who had been seen near him again. 

Jamie’s stomach tightened. Mara was still around. Watching. 

She caught up with Alex later that afternoon outside Grant Hall. 

“I walked past Hawthorne today,” she said, testing him. “Do you ever study there?” 

Alex froze just long enough for her to notice. “No. Why would I?” he said too quickly. 

For a moment, she wanted to believe him. She almost did. But the look in his eyes, cautious and almost rehearsed, lingered too long to ignore. 

Jamie nodded slowly. “Just wondering.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You overthink everything.” 

“Maybe,” she said, though her pulse said otherwise. 

That night, alone in her room, she pulled out the pamphlet again. Her fingers traced the printed line—Testing is Caring — Protect Yourself. 

For the first time, she saw the words differently. Testing wasn’t just about health or safety. It was about trust. Every relationship, every conversation, every secret were all tests of who could be believed. 

Despite all the posters on campus urging students to get tested, no one ever warned how hard it was to test the people you cared about most. 

She stared at the wristband beside it, torn and fragile like a promise stretched too far. 

Jamie no longer wondered if Alex was hiding something. She only wondered how far she would have to go before the truth found her first. 

Cliffhanger 

What is Alex hiding, and why does Mara want Jamie to stay away? 

What waits beneath Hawthorne Hall?