Page 58 of Pretty Threats

“No, but if you can steer the conversation to the Lambda House scandal, do it. I’m interested in what they know about the guys that are being investigated.”

“Investigated about the Casanova scandal?”

“Yes.”

“Is the film about that?”

“Not in a made-for-TV movie sort of way,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “The vultures have already picked the bones of that carcass bare. And that’s not my style of drama anyway, as you know.”

He raises his cup and takes a swallow. I feel like he might be stalling.

“This is a deeper look at the Granthorpe culture and some of its secrets and urban legends. The scope goes well beyond Casanova and student reactions to his crime spree.”

Crime spree… that phrase sounds so minor—or like it belongs in an action adventure movie about a bank-robbing couple in the nineties. Casanova was a serial killer, and not the kind who went on a murder spree, per se. The articles I read called him organized and noted his genius intelligence. When I read that paragraph, it made me think of Killian.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll try to chat with upperclassmen.”

“Perfect. We’re going to set up a shared file folder for you to drop your recorded notes and conversations into. This state requires two-party consent for conversation recording, so you can’t sit in a corner having a one-on-one conversation that you secretly record. These would be conversations between other people that you happen to pick up in another way…”

My brows rise. Is he asking me to spy on people? After tricking them into recalling last year? Before Casanova was caught, I’m sure everyone talked a lot about how campus life was being affected by his crimes. Now though, I’ll probably need to steer people into talking about him and his ties to Lambda Delta. Recording conversations would make it even more intrusive. It seems unnecessary and wrong.

“So, for example,” Owen says. “If you’re taking video of the house and no one tells you to stop, you could do that. And if you happen to capture a conversation…” He shrugs.

I stare at him silently. There is no way I’m doing what he’s suggesting, but I’m not sure I need to escalate this into an argument.

Still, my expression must convey something because he says, “I can tell you have a moral objection, and I don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. But ask yourself, should men making racist or deeply misogynistic statements at a party have a right to privacy? Think about what these men do. They’re bringing incoming freshmen into their fold, creating a cult-like environment designed to break new members down so they’ll adopt the group’s values, and then perpetuating an environment that celebrates sexual predation and more. They normalize Casanova’s opinions.”

“It sounds like you think the members of the Beta fraternity are dangerous? And you want me to go into their house alone to try to deceive them? I think that might end badly… for me.”

“No, no.” His response is so fast my stomach tightens and feels upset.

It’s not that he hasn’t considered how it might play out. He has considered it and decided to suggest it anyway.

“These guys would never do anything physical to you in that setting, where they know your invitation came through us and that we know where you are. That’s not the way these guys operate.”

No? They would what? Wait to catch me alone?

That’s the way Killian goes after people. He didn’t smash his way into Alicia’s house and drag her dad out in front of witnesses. He waited until he caught him alone.

“I’m not going to record anyone,” I say. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable. And if I go, I need to take a friend with me.”

“If you mean your boyfriend?—”

I almost say Killian’s not my boyfriend, but mentioning that would lead to explanations I don’t want to get into. “No. I don’t think any fraternity members would get a chance to talk to me with Killian around. I was thinking a friend from my dorm.”

“Actually, they might be more likely to talk to him. He’s an athlete who’s not in a fraternity already, right? If we go with a woman, instead, we need someone attractive.”

I stare at him. “Why?”

“Because they already proved that’s what they want. They checked your picture before they decided whether to issue an invitation.”

I feel stunned again. “What?”

He nods. “See what I mean? These men aren’t interested in creating a diverse group of friends, Raine. What they care about is having hot women at their party. Check out the score-keeping game that got them in trouble a few years back. Then tell me you want to protect their privacy.”

A sense of dread washes over me. My student film was considered gritty for its subject matter and the way I shot it, but there were no bad people in it. Just the heart-breaking reality of drug addiction.

It feels like this project is personal to Owen Malenus and that the underlying intent is to punish the university and its fraternities. I even wonder if he picked me not because of Carpet, but because he thought I would appeal to male students and not seem threatening. Am I an unwitting honey trap?

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