His father had let the first interrogation slide without much of a fuss, but with the news that people were being brought in a second time (or third in some cases) he called up their lawyer, as well as Milo's PR agent. If this effected his tennis sponsorships, well wouldn't that be so unfortunate. They both spent hours briefing Milo on how to behave, how to answer questions, and tell them right now if he knew anything he wasn't saying. He didn't appreciate feeling like a child, so to say he was unreceptive to any help they were offering was an understatement. Sitting outside of the interrogation room his arms crossed over his chest, and at best giving them a resounding 'no' he didn't know anything.
Eventually his PR agent gave up biding him and his lawyer, heading down the hall and around the corner when the door to the interrogation room opened and he was escorted into the room with his lawyer. It was pretty much the same as the time before -- mildly polite introductions went around, offers of something to drink if he wanted it, and then it was down to business. Thankfully, Milo had better things to do today.
"Can you talk about your time capsule video? Give us some context for the clip that was leaked?”
He rolled his eyes, about to say that this had nothing to do with Greer at all, but his lawyer sent him a look that clearly said he needed to cooperate to show good will. Not that he had any good will for anyone involved in what was going on. Why hadn't they found Greer yet? A person couldn't just disappear off the fucking face of the earth. Not someone like Greer, anyway. "I was saying something my therapist had told me before, and how fucking stupid it was. Me thinking it was bullshit was cut off," Milo said, pressing his lips together in annoyed line.
"Were you aware that Greer Morrison had submitted a video at the end of last year?”
"How would I have known that?" Milo snapped in a knee jerk reaction. "I wasn't her babysitter."
There was a long and pregnant pause after Milo's words where he let out a deep breath, turning his head away from the agent speaking to him. His eyebrows drew together in anger, and frustration.
“Had you ever heard of anything regarding THE NAIVE NEWCOMER using steroids?”
That made Milo turn his head back looking surprised by this information. "Kit was jucing?" He repeated, the surprise written over his expression. "No, I never heard anything like that." If he was being honest it wasn't uncommon, a known secret between quite a few guys in the locker rooms, but Kit had seemed way too boring to get caught up in something illicit like that. Some people were always going to surprise you.
“Had Greer brought up breaking up with him ever? Or anything of the sort, like she did in her video?”
Milo couldn't help the chuckle that came from him, something the Agent's all immediately seemed to want to jump on. "If you can tell us, Mr. Navarro, that would be very helpful."
He rolled his eyes again, "she never said anything much about Kit at all," he said, with a shrug. "He never seemed to be on her mind at all, while we were around each other." Again, he'd always expected it was because he was one of the dullest people Milo had ever spoken to. There were so many better people Greer surrounded herself with, he could think of dozens of people off the top of his head, why would she ever need to talk about Kit?
"So, the two of you were close?" The Agent asked, clearly leading to something Milo didn't think he wanted to hear. "Some other students have brought up your relationship with Greer. Why do you think they thought it was relevant?"
"Who?" Milo asked, feeling a hot spike of anger shoot through his chest. He shifted in his seat until it gave an ugly sound squealing across the floor, as if he was about to stand up, until his lawyer put their hand on his elbow to keep him from doing anything too aggressive. "Who the fuck brought me up?"
"You know we aren't at liberty to answer that."
He slumped back in his seat, crossing his arms back over his chest, and looking away angrily again. "It's not any of your fucking business."
"Actually, Mr. Navarro," Agent Brown said, speaking up for the first time, "it is exactly our fucking business." Milo turned his head to look at the detective, the two of them staring each other down for another long moment of silence.
Another Agent cleared their throat and spoke up, "Why do you think others thought your relationship was relevant enough to bring up?"
After a lingering moment, Milo turned away from Agent brown and frowned. "We were close."
"Mr. Navarro is there anything that you’re not sharing with us? About you and Greer, or anything else."
Yes.
"No."
Another silence where he was sure they were expecting him to expand on that, but instead the Agent caved first, asking another question.
"Were you aware of Greer planning to travel to Portugal this summer?"
Another question that caused Milo to make a jerking turn of his head, blinking rapidly for a moment. "How would I have known that?" He asked, after a moment too long searching for a response. "It's not like she had it on her 2022 vision board or anything," he added, nearly the same comment he'd made to Ollie when he'd brought up the question at Halloween.
One of the Agents off in the background seemed to mark something down on a paper as another question was asked.
“Do you have any reason to believe THE GOLDEN GIRL would want to leave Ogden College?”
Once again he stayed silent for a long moment, something painful and aching twisting beneath his ribs. If he was feeling anything beyond annoyance or anger, he didn't let it show on his face, and instead Milo shrugged his shoulders. "If you find out let me fucking know, because she really did leave me hanging high and dry."
"Okay," his lawyer said, cutting in finally. "I think that's enough for today. If you need to speak with my client again I assume you will ask me. Let's go Milo."
feat: Ollie, Greer's investigation team (Mostly Agent Choi), and surprise G texts!
Any time Ollie found himself sitting in a room with the police was never a good time. And these weren't even police, they were detectives. Like FBI and shit. As long as he kept a level head, more of one than he kept in his first interrogation, that everything would be fine. So, Ollie sat there quietly, and politely thanked the officer that placed the glass of water in front of him, picking up to take a drink before they asked their first question.
“Had you ever heard of anything regarding THE NAIVE NEWCOMER using steroids?”
Ollie took a sharp breath, the water getting sucked down into the wrong pipe which caused him to gag and start choking, doubling over in his seat his hand over his face as he coughed up the water. One of the very kind agents, Agent Choi, apparently, to pat him on his back. Eventually Ollie sat back up, eyes watering and face red as he panted for breath. "What?" He said, in disbelief, "Wha-? He was juicing? No fucking way. You guys are bullshitting me."
"Afraid not, Ollie," Agent Choi said.
"No way..."
"Yes way."
Ollie leaned back in his seat, his mouth half open gazing off into the distance, clearly very surprised by this information. "Damn... I mean, no I didn't know, he seemed so fucking clean, y'know..." he said, blinking a few times and shaking his head. Apparently that was believable enough (it should fucking be because he was shocked), and they moved on to their next question.
“Had Greer brought up breaking up with him ever? Or anything of the sort, like she did in her video?”
Taking another tentative drink to soothe the burning in his throat, Ollie looked over the top of the cup, shaking his head. "No, we didn't really talk about our romantic relationships much. But I guess it's not surprising. She wasn't exactly too loyal to him was she? She always seemed like she was destined to meet some uber famous billionaire who would whisk her away to some private island where they would live the rest of their lives on some fabulous mega yacht or something."
"Speaking of the videos," Agent Choi lead, "were you aware that Greer Morrison had submitted a video at the end of last year?”
"No," Ollie said, his eyebrows furrowing, glancing down at the table, "I mean none of the video was great to see so that was kind of like the surprise cherry on top of the whole shit sundae... It was kinda painful, actually..." He said with a very unhumorous laugh.
"Can you talk about your time capsule video? Give us some context for the clip that was leaked?”
Please can we fucking not? His video very clearly had nothing to do with anything, so he could probably just say, no and there was nothing to it. However... Ollie looked up from where he was staring at the table towards Agent Choi, than around at the others in the room, frowning at them. Well... If he'd learned anything in his very long nineteen years of life it was that over sharing about something that didn't matter much, was a good way of throwing people off the scent. Not that Ollie really thought there was much of a scent on him in the first place, but... just to make very sure. "I mean... What do you want me to say? That I'm in love with my best friend? Apparently everyone already fucking knows. I just fucking realized a few weeks ago, but everyone else already knew I guess. Like name a stupider gay stereotype, I'm so fucking pathetic."
"You sound like you're being hard on yourself," Agent Choi said, placing his hand on Ollie's shoulder, who pouted up at him. "And this friend is... Monty Richler?"
That made Ollie hesitate a moment, not exactly wanting to speak about others in this interrogation, but he carefully gave a very subtle nod, and was relieved when the officers moved on to another question.
“Do you have any reason to believe THE GOLDEN GIRL would want to leave Ogden College?”
His nod turned into a shake of his head, "no," Ollie said. He was content to leave it there but he opened his mouth to speak again, "I mean she sounded lonely in her video. It's hard to be around people when you feel like you don't have anyone you really connect with that you can talk to."
"Were you at the party on June 4th in the Hamptons that Greer is pictured attending on Riley Vanderford’s social media?"
If Ollie was drinking more of the water he probably would have done another spit take as he snorted. "Do I seem like the kind of person who would ever go to the Hamptons? No, I was back home in the Heights by then."
"What do you know a student named Rhiannon Falla?"
"Rhia?" Was Ollie's automatic surprised reaction, though he immediately regretted it, clearly giving away that he did in fact know Rhia. "I mean, we're friends. She's really sweet. We vibe. It's hard not to be friends with Rhia..."
"And her relationship with Greer?"
"They were friends too?" Ollie said slowly, and gave a shrug of his shoulders. Clearly content on keeping it at that pretty much, though he added, "like I said it's hard not to be friends with Rhia." If Ollie had seen the next question coming perhaps he would have preferred to keep talking about Rhia and how great he actually did think she was. Though a worse subject was brought up after that.
"How about Milo Navarro? His relationship with Greer?"
Ollie let out a harsh breath, biting down on his bottom lip, looking back down at the table. "I-- Uh..."
"Ollie," Agent Choi said, putting a hand on his shoulder again, Ollie looked back up at him with a frown, "if you know something, you can tell us."
Yeah, he certainly could. But despite how angry he was at Milo, he wasn’t going to be a fucking rat to the cops, no matter what. "We were hooking up, and he just said some really mean things to me. Personal things that don't really have anything to do with this," Ollie said, shaking his head, "a lot of sex things if you want me to describe my sex life to you."
"That won't be necessary," Agent Choi said, "but about Greer...?"
"They were friends, and tennis partners. They were a pretty big deal when it came to tennis too, apparently. They were around each other a lot, Greer is the one that introduced me to Milo. So, yeah they were close." That much was public knowledge, so he was fine with saying as much, and hoped that it was enough to satisfy the detectives. There was a look between Agent Choi, and another of the detectives- the guy in charge Ollie suspected, then he turned back to Ollie and smiled.
"Thank you for your cooperation Ollie," He said, "you were very helpful. You can go."
He practically ran from the room after giving his thanks to the agents, and was out on the quad when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out his eyebrows pulling together as he read the texts.
g: well, it looks like the cops sure trust you. let’s not get into the merits of whether or not they should, and instead let’s figure if i should. or if greer morrison should.
g: did greer ever mention wanting to go to the cops over anything?
g: think...stalkers, fights, issues with drugs. anything like that ring a bell?
g: think about it. even try to figure it out. what you do with that info? well, i guess that’ll let us know if the cops were right for believing what you said.
Ollie paused where he was walking along the pathway, finding it a bit rich that they thought he should are if they could trust him when he knew very well he could not trust them. He hesitated a moment before typing out a quick messages and sending it back, and continuing back to his room.
Milo turned his head to glare daggers at his fraternaty brother, who held up his hands clearly realizing his mistake before walking a few feet away to gather up with a couple other members of SAE. As if he was going to let unknown people grab at him. He hardly let people he knew touch him if he could help it.
Going through a haunted house with a group of frat boys ... killed the atmosphere, Milo realized this, but he had never been a fan of horror. So, he strolled behind the group, arms crossed over his chest as they cracked jokes about each thing they came across. Clearly they were scared, and just over compensating. Jumping at the smallest whilhelm scream track that came over whatever sound system had been rigged up. He watched as zombies, and killer clowns, and faceless ghouls walked up behind the group of guys jumping up and scaring them. At least the very least Milo was getting entertainment out of this place.
"You think they have one for Greer up there?" One of his brother's asked falling into step next to Milo, pointing towards the missing person's posters.
"I don't think Mari would have allowed something like that..." Milo said though he sounded uncertain in his reply. It wasn't like Mari was the one putting all this stuff up, it was just her house hosting. Anyone could have done something like that because they thought it was clever. His eyes scanned the missing person's posters for a few moments before glancing around for his brother's who had continued forward, running a few feet to catch up with them. Once again resuming his casual gate with the rest of the group.
There was more amusement as the guys contended with the close quarters of the next hallways, and kept pushing each other towards the large vengeful haunted bride offering each other up as her next husband. Milo shook his head, and rolled his eyes -- with the slightest amount of affection -- as he looked around at the odd mirror with "blood" scrawled across it. Some poem or something he remembered from somewhere. He'd never been much of a classic literature fan. Though he tapped along the mirror as if he was trying to see if there could have been something behind it before the rest of the guys urged him to come along with them.
After the group got chased along a long hallway towards the exit by some very large bloody man with a chainsaw, Milo caught sight of the U.R. Next door. Tempting... As his brother's argued about who was going to make their way through the last pitch black room first he took a few steps over towards it, jiggling the door knob before he opened it and peaked in.
"Milo, take the charge," one called towards him. He glanced over his shoulder towards the rest of his SAE brothers and shrugged his shoulders as he strolled their way again. Might as well be in front... once.
Milo sat down in the uncomfortable chair across the desk from the two officers, looking between them. Feeling unimpressed, and annoyed that he was even being bothered with this. Did they really have to question every single person on campus? If he knew where Greer was she'd fucking be here. "Can we make this go fast? I'm supposed to be at practice, training my new partner. And she needs the help," he said, resting his hands neatly in his lap.
"Of course Mr. Navarro. We just have a few questions, if you don't mind answering them."
"I don't, I want to find Greer as much as anyone," he said. Trying to look assuring that despite the fact he didn't want to be here, it had nothing to do with him hiding anything.
“When did you last speak to Greer?”
"We talked when we were gathering our tennis equipment, and schedule for that summer. When training would take place, and any matches we had over the next few months. She didn't show up to any of it, of course."
“When did you last actually see Greer?”
"I saw her around campus the day I was leaving."
“How well did you know Greer?”
"Well enough. She probably knew me better than I knew her, she was that sort of person. Good at getting others to talk, while not doing any talking herself. We met the summer before Freshman year, during summer training for Tennis. Picking partners is very important if you are playing doubles. You want to pick someone you're going to work well with. We were partnered together the first round, and decided to stick with each other after that. There was no need to play with anyone else. We've been close since then."
“What was your relationship with Greer like?”
"We're both strong personalities," he said, with a quirk of his eyebrow. How was he supposed to explain this without coming across like he'd done something, just because him and Greer butted heads sometimes. Better to be honest rather than someone else tell them and seem like he was hiding something. "I consider Greer a close friend of mine, one of the people I was closest with on campus most likely, but that doesn't mean we always got along. We worked impeccably well, we spent a lot of time together on campus and on the road when Tennis was in season. We also argued like friends do, but I fight with everybody, so that's just how it is sometimes."
“Have you heard or seen anything about where she was this summer?”
"No. The dozens of scathing texts I sent her for flaking this summer should be indication of that."
“You wouldn’t have wanted Greer to disappear, would you?”
"No offence but is anyone going to say yes to this? If someone really wanted her to disappear do you expect they're just going to say 'yeah you caught me'. I guess probably not... No, I didn't want her to disappear. She was my tennis partner for one thing, you know how hard it is to find a good tennis partner? Like, good god. I was lucky enough to find someone who matched my skill and passion for the sport like Greer did during my first year. Now she's gone, and I'm fucked because I haven't been practicing with other people. Listen, if I have to explain to you how and why it's difficult to find a new partner we're already losing the game, Sir. Anyway, I'm getting off the point. The point is, no, I didn't want her to disappear. I don't want her to be gone. I'd like for her to tell someone where she is and when she'll be fucking back. But nobody matters to Greer except Greer, so I don't think she'll be to bothered."
[ read Ollie's other interrogations: The Initial Sit Downs & First Interrogation ]
He was being advised not to say anything. From his parents ("Just don't say anything, Ollie" "Ollie I swear to fucking god…"). From Gabriel ("Ollie if you try and turn yourself in again you're not going to help Sam, you'll just end up in jail beside her"). From Sam's lawyer ("Mr. Inoue, at this point I'm begging you…"). Honestly if she could write to him right now, probably also from Sam. So, Ollie had a plan as he was called into the offices to speak with the detectives. Just sit there and not say anything. Tell them he was advised not to, sorry. He knew his rights. Sort of. He just had to remember that anything he said could not only be used against him, but against everyone.
Especially against Sam.
So, he took a deep breath that was supposed to be calming, plastered a polite (and very fake) smile on his face and pushed the door to the offices open, taking a seat at the table as he was directed by the detectives.
"It's nice to see you again Ollie," Agent Choi said, friendly and charming as ever. Ollie gave one of those tight lipped smiles, resting his elbows on the table and his cheek against the palm of his hand. "We're calling everyone in to just have a little talk. Help us try and figure out what is going on around here, and as you were so reliable last time, we thought you could bring us up to speed on what has been going on. Have you witnessed anything suspicious on campus over the past year and a half?"
There was a long pause before Ollie leaned forward in his chair slightly, speaking clearly. "I would like to remain silent."
The officers were the ones to stay silent after that, glancing between each other. As far as they knew Ollie had been so willing to help last time. Which wasn't true, but he was good at getting people to see what they wanted to see. He was good at being friendly, and well liked, and seeming to be helpful. That was what the Detectives saw last time. They had wasted all the fake good will Ollie could throw at them. He was done.
Agent Choi shared a look with his fellow FBI agents, before giving Ollie a sympathetic look. "I promise we're only here to help, Ollie. I understand there has been trouble with other students on campus but you're not in any danger here." They said, and Ollie set his jaw, teeth pinching together hard, as the Agent continued on. "Are you aware of any information about Greer Morrison that has come to light in the past year that you haven’t shared?“
He just glared at Agent Choi in response. God! He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have FBI agents here who were not dumb as shit. It took him everything to point out he'd already shared information with them. The Portugal flight. That'd been him and Parker, and they only knew because of them. Saying they could turn in any anonymous information, then turning around and saying if anyone knew who had found out that information should say something. Fuck them. Fuck that. He didn't know why he'd turn in anything else after that. He didn't know why he'd even tried in the first place.
He hated the cops.
Perhaps it was his death glare that prompted Agent Brown to step up and start speaking. Cutting the bullshit, perhaps, and asking what they really what to know. "Did you have any reason to suspect Greer Morrison was dead before this news came to light?"
Ollie's glare shifted over to Agent Brown instead. He was a talker. Ollie had always been naturally chatty. He liked to say things, he liked to get a word in, he liked to be the last one to say something. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever been through to not respond 'yeah no fucking shit'. Of course he had a reason to believe she was dead. As much as he didn't want to believe it. As much as he wanted to believe that she was off on some private island enjoying the tropical weather and hot people.
How could he not suspect? She'd been gone for a year and a half now and nobody knew anything? Yeah no fucking shit he had a reason to suspect she was dead.
"I don't understand why you're being so difficult, Ollie," Agent Choi said when it was apparent he was also not going to respond to Agent Brown's straight forwardness. "I thought you would want to help Greer. Can you clarify again what your relationship was like with her?"
Ollie leaned backwards in the seat, looking up at the ceiling in silence. His mouth puckered, thinking very very hard about steadying his breathing. Just don't let them get to you. Just don't say anything. They couldn't keep him here forever. He hadn't done anything wrong -- Well, yes, he had. But nothing that they knew about!
"How about the other victims there have been on Campus. Penelope Klein and Ida Clarke. People seem to love you, Ollie. You've been voted Homecoming King two years in a row, we've heard nothing but positive things from your peers. Were you friends with them as well?" Agent Choi asked, and Ollie couldn't fight the distressed expression that crossed his face, a moment of weakness the Agent jumped on. "You seem like you have a good heart, Ollie. If there is any connections you can give us between them…"
He turned his head away, eyebrows furrowing. The truth was that no, he hadn't been friends with either Penny, or Ida. Though it was more complicated than just that. Penny was annoying, but she didn't deserve what happened to her. He remembered seeing her body laying outside of the kitchen, limp in the snow at the Chateau. He saw it in his minds eye so often. And Ida… they used to be friends, they related on so many things. But … well it was complicated. Ida was a complicated person. She didn't deserve what happened to her either. She deserved to be out there learning how to become some sort of nefarious cult leader or whatever the fuck her plans for the future were.
Ollie felt his stomach churn when he thought about it. When he thought about how G's text at the end of last year implying it happened because that was what THEY wanted. Fuck them. And fuck these guys too.
“Okay," Agent Choi said, in a tone that was measured. Perhaps their patience was wearing thin. Good. "You don't want to speak about yourself. Could you perhaps help us clear up what Greer’s relationship was with Penelope Klein?”
For the first time that actually got a reaction from Ollie. Maybe his own patience was also wearing thin. He snorted. That's all. A laugh. No. He had no fucking idea what Greer's relationship with Penny had been. Wouldn't it be great if he did. Wouldn't it fill in some fucking blanks. They were on their own with that one, even if he had been saying anything. Instead Ollie just kept his eyes turned to the side, his head shaking in something of an annoyed and resigned way.
Once again Agent Brown cut in, speaking more harshly. "I'm confused Mr. Inoue. You seemed so helpful the last time we spoke. Unless you are hiding something, you have nothing to worry about." He spoke in a serious tone, standing up to perhaps seem larger and more intimidating as Ollie sat in front of him.
"There isn't anything you are hiding is there, Ollie?" Agent Choi asked, looking for all the world like they were attempting to be sympathetic. Like they wanted Ollie to admit he had nothing to do with anything and cooperate. Rat, or whatever. "Could you fill us in on where you were when Penelope Klein's body was found?"
"Why don't you ask Jesse's Dad? The Good Doctor paraded us all around asking a bunch of questions about that for his stupid fucking show." Ollie said, finally speaking up. Hey, he'd been as quiet as he could manage. He looked regretful immediately, and turned his head away.
The Detectives took this as a moment of weakness however, and continued with their questions.
“Perhaps we will," Agent Brown said, walking around to Ollie's side of the table to come into his field of view. Looking down at him with a stony look on his face. "And what about when Ida Clarke was found? Were you at the Commons the night of the fire? Do you know why students even were there when they should’ve been at the Commencement Gala?“
There was a loud CRACK as Ollie's hand slammed down onto the table in front of him. He hadn't meant to hit it so hard, or at all. He loosened his balled fist, and dug his nails into lacquer wood, his breath coming out in a short burst.
Agent Brown raised his eyebrows, and must have been smelling blood in the water as he pushed on. “Over the past year, have you gotten any anonymous messages? Any threatening ones? Or any with…leading information?”
"Fuck you," Ollie said very quietly glaring up at the Agent towering over him. Sam's lawyer's text lingering in the back of his mind. ("Whatever happens do not bad mouth the officers.") Whoops. His voice raised as he spoke again, "don't you fucking know already? Haven't you found all this shit? Isn't that one of the things you're charging Sam with? Or is it like you trying to pin Greer's disappearance, and Ida and Penny's death's on her-- just bullshit you're going to take away. Fuck you!"
"Okay," Agent Brown said leaning over Ollie, faux patience in his voice that made it sound more like sarcasm. "Why don't we talk about that then? Could you explain to us your relationship with Samantha Jimenez? You have been visiting her haven't you? You grew up together, I believe?"
"Fuck you!" Ollie said again, this time standing up so fast the chair he'd been sitting in toppled over behind him. The Agents stances became defensive, as Ollie backed off, his hands raising in a non aggressive manner. Agent Choi got to him first, coming up behind him, and placing a hand on his shoulder. Something that was supposed to be placating, whilst being close enough to be able to subdue if necessary. But Ollie wasn't here to fight, or a raise a hand to a fucking cop. He wasn't an idiot.
Or maybe he was.
"Calm down, Ollie. We understand you and Samantha were friends, but--"
"Fuck you," Ollie said again, through his clenched teeth, forcing himself to take a deep breath, and speak clearly again. "Am I being detained?" He asked, his head turning to look at Agent Choi. He looked between them, and Agent Brown, and Agent Murray, silent over in her corner.
"No," Agent Choi said with a sigh.
"Then please take your hand off of me so I can go," he said, and they did that. He pulled away and walked as fast as he could to the door slamming it behind him. His entire body shaking as he walked out. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck….
There was one reason Milo was here, and one reason only. And that was his own public image. News was spreading more and more outside of Ogden and the surrounding area about Greer being missing, about Penny's death. He'd started getting questions about it. Fans tweeting at him with questions - especially the ones who followed him closely enough to put together that 'Greer Morrison' was the girl who had been his tennis partner. He'd shared tons of pictures of them on his instagram. Sports reporters asking if he could give some insight on what was happening. Things like that. He hadn't, yet, of course. He thought it would be a really bad fucking idea. His team agreed as well.
However, the more publicity this situation was getting the less he could remain silent on it. That was what his team had said. Especially with how poorly his interrogation with the police had gone. No one knew about it. Yet. But how long until they did? He had to get in front of this. Do this interview with a popular daytime TV personality and be on his best behavior. Make people sympathetic, and whatever the cops ended up saying, if they ever ended up saying anything, would not effect his public image.
That was the plan. "Good afternoon," he said, as he took a seat across from Donovan Hart, a pleasant (and fake) smile on his face. He'd been doing things like this since he was about sixteen years old. This shouldn't be a problem.
“It’s a tough year to be a student at Ogden College with the tragic passing of Penelope Klein. And of course, we can’t forget the ongoing missing persons case surrounding beloved student, Greer Morrison. I know that Dean Zuko insisted on free on-campus counseling set up for all students. Have you made use of it?”
"I am already seeing somebody," Milo said, slowly, giving a bit of a smile. He had been seeing a therapist since he was 16 and his public image went into the toilet after throwing a tennis racket so hard into a fence it smashed. His PR agent told him he needed to make a show of 'getting better', so that was what he'd done. Turns out … he kinda fucking needed it, so he kept going even after the storm had passed. "Mental health is very important to me," at least that was the line he'd been given, "so, I think it's a great idea to offer it to students who are unable to see professionals out of pocket. I'm sure they've been busy." He doubted anybody who really needed the help was actually spending their time making use of any on campus counseling. Frankly, he wouldn't trust the people the Dean had hired for it anyway. He doubted they were really prepared for the problems that Ogden students had to offer.
“There was that nasty storm that knocked out the power at the resort, I remember. That got a little dicey, huh? Parents and staff all congregated in the faculty chalet, but you kids were on the other side of the resort. We’ve been told that Penelope organized some things for people to complete to make it through that night together. Were you one of them? What did you get up to during the blackout?”
"Yes, I was partnered with Ollie Inoue to go check the kitchen pantry for supplies," Milo explained. As long as he was being tossed these softball questions then maybe this wasn't going to be too terrible. He was getting the strong feeling Donovan Hart was phoning it in, anyway. "We didn't know how long any of this was going to last, and there was the possibility of us getting snowed in. So, Penny wanted to make sure that we were stocked up on food in case the worst happened."
“In the wake of tragedy, it can be hard to recall things in detail. The brain has its own ways of protecting itself in high-stress situations, and I know that the police have been a near-constant presence on campus this year. This is not that; I want you to feel safe and comfortable enough to share whatever you want about that night. Did you see anything? Hear anything?”
Yes. Milo didn't say that though. But yes, he had heard something. He'd heard footsteps, and he heard someone closing the door on him and Ollie to lock them in the pantry together. He thought about it often. What was the real reason for that? Had somebody been trying to make sure there was no possibility of witnesses for whatever happened to Penny? Milo hadn't mentioned any of those thoughts though, because … Well, he didn't want to get involved. And the last person he was going to tell about it was Donovan fucking Hart. "No," Milo said with a casual smile, "Ollie can be pretty chatty, so mostly I just heard him talking."
“Obviously, we all want to get to the bottom of this and work through whatever lingering effects it might have left behind. If you were paired off with anyone that night, can you remember what they were doing? Would it have been possible that they might have been behind anything you saw?
"Not possible," Milo said, simply. Not even in any stretch of the imagination. "Ollie and I weren't let out of the pantry until the lights turned back on. We were together the whole time."
“Now, if you’ll direct your attention to this screen here, I have something that— barring appropriate authorities— no one has seen until now.” A picture of Greer suddenly appears on screen, all eyes trained on this new piece of information. All eyes but Donovan’s which are locked onto the face of the person he’s interviewing, watching for any and every reaction. “This photo is shocking, I know. It was found in the faculty chalet the night of the blackout. Do you know anything about the day it was taken or who might have taken it?”
Milo was not the sort of person who hid his feelings well. That made the fact he'd been strong armed into this interview by his team extremely unfortunate, because he was supposed to be making himself look good in the court of public opinion. It didn't matter what the police thought if everyone else thought he was an innocent bystander. Which he was! But it meant that he had to keep his anger in check. He knew how these things went. He knew how much in interviews ended up on the cutting room floor just to show what the producers and people in charge wanted to show. Milo knew how these things always went, which was why he hadn't wanted to do this in the first place. Unfortunately here he was, and now he just had to make sure that he didn't give them anything that could be used against him in any way what so ever.
There was a difference between knowing something intellectually, and being able to follow through with that thing, however.
There was that hot feeling of anger that flashed through Milo. Outraged that anyone thought it was a good idea to do this. Show that picture, or do this interview. "How the fuck would I know?" Milo snapped. "Isn't more likely that you or one of the faculty members must have taken and vandalized it? If that's where it was found." Why was this on the shoulders of him, or his peers at all?
“Do you have any idea why this photo might have been left with faculty that night? Or, most pressing, what reason someone could have for vandalizing it in such a horrible way?”
Milo glared at this joke of a fucking TV personality in front of him. "Ask. The. Faculty," he said through his teeth.
"Finally, it's been discovered that Penelope, shortly before her untimely death, had mentioned to someone that she knew why Greer had left. Do you think that has anything to do with this photo? Do you know why she might have left? Even though being honest about it may seem scary, I promise you, it's the right thing to do. It's the only way we can protect you."
'It's the only way we can protect you.' "What are you the fucking cops?" Milo snapped again, unable to help himself though he knew the moment it left his mouth it should not have. "This interview is over. I know bad faith questions when I hear them, I know when I'm being steamrolled. Don't fuck me with, Donovan." He said, standing up from his seat and heading about as far as he could get away before he was stopped by some staff to remove his mic, and whatever else they needed.
“Yeah, I’ll take one of those bracelets, dude. Thanks.” With the glow bracelet slipped over his wrist, Kit began his venture into the haunted house. He was a pinch more at ease knowing the glowing line around his wrist meant no one would be grabbing him as he made his way through the spooky space. He had to give it to KKG, they really knew how to set something up. The placed was decked out to provide the ultimate Halloween experience.
Roaming the haunted house with a handful of other people, Kit was in no rush to make his way through each portion of it, letting his eyes rake over all of the details and appreciate the effort the hosts put into providing others with a good spook. While he did have an accessory on that told the cast members that he didn’t want to be touched, it wasn’t like he was against letting himself feel uneasy for the fun of it. Just in moderation, yanno?
“Ahh!” Kit let out a yelp as someone dressed as Jason Vorhees rushed past him out of nowhere. “Jeeeezus.” He clutched his chest, letting out a big exhale before carrying on with the haunted experience.
Soon he was wandering down a long hall that had thick chains hanging from its ceiling. He gulped as he made his way through them, trying to snake around the props. An uncomfortable shiver crawled up his neck each time the chains brushed each other, giving off the most unsettling jingle. It didn’t help that cast members were groaning and sticking their creepy hands out from the spaces of the wall. Some even going as far as to go BOO! against it if Kit wandered too close to the left or right side, his heart jumping in his chest each time.
Kit was relieved to make it out of there, coming out into a space that had a large mirror in it. Its surface read SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES in bloody letters. Yikes. He bared his teeth in a small grimace. Though fairly menacing, it was probably the least scary room he’s been in. He walked along, this time coming out into a hall plastered with Missing Persons posters. Wow, really? He thought. His mouth pulled into a dissatisfied slant, shaking his head as he moved through the space. Talk about doing something in bad taste. It was the only portion of the haunted house Kit didn’t care to appreciate, his long strides taking him out of room soon enough.
His mood soured by the cheeky décor of the previous room, Kit barely paid attention to the door marked UR NEXT. He read the threatening message and scoffed at it, leaving it untouched as he pressed forward until he reached the portion of the house where the party was taking place, led there by the thumping bass of the music and chatter of the crowd. He would have given that experience a 10 out of 10 had it not been for the room with Missing Persons posters plastered all over it. He was so sick if people making fun of what was actually a super terrible situation.
a freshman approaches her with a green glow stick. quinn politely declines, waving her hand to shoo them away; bravado she would later come to regret. she enters with the confidence she was born into. a steadfast belief she's above it all— you know the type: everyone else but me. exclusivity from human frailty. closer to god than man. it was the morrison way and quinn was not immune.
at first, she's presented with options: a staircase with a ghoulish figure looming and a claustrophobic hallway of chains. she would rather take on an opponent she can see so she chooses the stairs. as expected, the robed figure lunges at her as she reaches the top. she pushes back, laughing. this wasn't scary. this was corny. this was camp. it was a kkg event after all. she should have known to lower her expectations.
quinn has little interest in the party laying ahead; the same as every year before. in fact, she's only making an appearance because that was what was expected of the greek letters. for all the rivalry between them, they made sure to show up to each other's occasions as a point of cooperation. she was tri delt's vice president of recruitment, so personal choice was outside the equation. she did her best not to be the rain on everyone's parade... by this point in the halloween season, in all honesty, her social battery was draining fast.
she moves forward through the haunted house, coiled hair bouncing on her proud shoulders. the sophomore finds herself in an empty room. her first impression? apathetic. the room is wallpapered white with some pictures plastered on top. she gets closer. curiosity, as usual, reaping bitter fruit.
she recognises a word emblazoned over and over again in bold block letters.
MISSING
the brunette steps back, first in shock, then again in disgust. a weight drops in her abdomen. with a nauseous gulp, she turns and walks out as fast as her tiny frame is able. blinded by revulsion, quinn opens the next door she sees, hoping for an exit. she isn't paying attention. the memory of greer is suffocating her senses just enough for idle complacency to mutate into foolishness. this next room is pitch black and out from the shadows comes a paunchy man dressed as a clown — face paint and all. he makes a grab for her. quinn screams.
by the time she runs all the way back to the entrance she's pale and clammy. she falters over the front step, vision blurred, and vomits. exorcist-style.
