[center][color=green][h3]Imogen Reed[/h3][/color][/center]

Even for two highly experienced professional detectives of appreciable skill, finding one particular name from the list ended up posing a fair bit more challenge than they accepted, not because Imogen Reed took any particular pains to obscure her location, but because nobody seemed to possess a single, solitary clue as to where in the world she might be. Of course, Nathan and Harris obtained her schedule and room number from the faculty as a matter of course, just as they did with the others, in order to aid their investigation, but in an unlucky turn of events her schedule just so happened to be free for most of the morning. When they entered her dormitory they found her room empty, if rather disheveled. There weren’t a lot of clues to be had there, as her drawers mostly contained papers for schoolwork or snacks, but the lack of shoes, phone, laptop, or bag suggested that she happened to be out.

It was when the duo approached Imogen’s neighbors that they got their first taste of their target’s elusiveness. The other young women in the room’s vicinity possessed only the vaguest sense of the student living adjacent to them, seldom seen and never spoken to. Forget whereabouts–even the mention of Imogen’s name drew blank stares. One girl even admitted that she thought that room was unoccupied. Soon the detectives were on their way, first visiting the professor of the prior class on Imogen’s agenda, and then the one she’d be attending later today. Neither could claim any knowledge of her whereabouts, nor her activities in general in order to provide a hint as to where she might spend her time between classes. The students from those classes proved even less helpful, only a few cognizant of Imogen’s presence in their class, and even they couldn’t be completely sure that she’d attended today, or even yesterday for that matter. It didn’t even seem like Imogen was shy or anxious, just completely forgettable. Only one detail kept resurfacing: that she always wore a drab green coat. In the end, Nathan in particular actually ended up feeling pretty bad for the girl. Harris couldn’t say the same; in fact, he couldn’t completely dismiss the somewhat paranoid notion that Imogen was covering her tracks on purpose, after all.

While making their way through the general study hall for the third time since the start of their search, Harris idly cast his eyes around the area again, just to be sure. This was beginning to feel like a wild goose chase, and it was trying his patience. His eyes happened to rest on a lone figure sitting at a table in the middle of the area, and with a jolt he took a double take. Light brown hair, black glasses, checkered beanie, and a drab green coat…it had to be her. When did she get here, he wondered. Surely the two of them hadn’t passed her by without realizing twice? She was right out in the open, for Pete’s sake. He nudged Nathan with his elbow and tilted his head in Imogen’s direction, but after a moment of looking his partner gave him an inquisitive glance. Shaking his head, he made his way over with Nathan in tow, who to his credit managed to come to the same realization only a few steps into the short trip.

Together they stopped at the table, quietly whispering between themselves about how to do this, since Imogen appeared to be sound asleep. She lay slouched in her chair at the table, a huge amount of homework arrayed out before her, including a textbook, a couple worksheets, a page of notes, and another of references. Imogen herself didn’t look too good. Her hair seemed a little unkempt, and the bags beneath her eyes were pretty dark. Despite the impressive number of students cramming into this hall to work, nobody else occupied Imogen’s table, so after Harris pulled out one of the other chairs and sat down, he cleared his throat. “Pardon me, miss?”

Imogen stirred instantly, awakening with a sharp inhalation of breath. She blinked blearily as the initial panic died down, regarding the detectives with a wary, almost fearful expression. “H-huh? Ah, ‘scuse me, uh…yes?”

“Are you Imogen Reed?”

“Y..yes.” After composing herself, Imogen straightened up and adopted a polite neutral expression, the sort one might expect from a bank teller. “Oh…did I nod off? Sorry, I’ve just been sleepin’ terrible lately. Is…there somethin’ wrong, sirs?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. We just wanted to ask you a few questions,” Harris told her, his voice even. “Just a minute or two of your time, and we’ll be on your way.”

The girl nodded, so he continued. “We’re looking for a student named Sofia Wright. Does that name sound familiar to you?”

He scarcely needed to finish that second question though; the instant he said that name, Imogen reacted. Her tells were slight, but obvious to anyone with entry-level experience in this sort of field. She’d slightly opened her mouth and widened her eyes, as well as instinctively taken a deeper-than-usual breath. She didn’t just know the name. It held some sort of import for her. Still, she furnished the detective with a reply out of courtesy. “Yes, I’ve met her.”

“How do you know her?” Nathan asked.

“Well…” Imogen licked her lips, which for some reason felt oddly dry. “Right after school started, she tried gettin’ a bunch of random freshmen together to make nice. Some sort of program I expect. Didn’t work out though, none of us really wanted anythin’ to do with it. Ya can’t force stuff like that, y’know?”

Nathan crossed his arms, nodding. “Right, right, the semester started a couple weeks ago, didn’t it. But what about last week, Miss Reed? Did you see Miss Wright again?”

[i]Uh oh.[/i] Imogen swallowed. These men were getting closer to that day. The day when her whole world flipped upside down, and though nothing changed, everything changed. Every night since then she’d lain awake in her bed, the images and events from that impossible island replaying again and again in her mind. She’d hoped that it was all a dream, that Sophie was fine and just living her life out in the campus somewhere, but now these men were here telling her that Sophie really was gone. But what could she tell them in return? The truth would make her sound insane. In truth, she [i]felt[/i] a little insane. Things hadn’t exactly been hunky-dory prior to her little dip, and since then it felt like something had been gnawing at her. She found herself showering more than once per day, washing her face more often than ever, but her mind would not rest, and the itch would not go away. Several times now she’d found herself back at the docks, more than once in the dead of night. Just staring at the water. Unable to do away with the realization that there was something else out there. Once she met Verity there. She hadn’t said anything to her, and really, they didn’t need to say a word. Maybe she felt it too–the sensation of walls crumbling down, and the rising urge to peer beyond them.

“...Yes,” she replied after a moment. [i]The truth, but not the whole truth,[/i] she told herself. “Sophie tried to get us together again. Some sort of hazin’ ritual that involves jumpin’ in the water. I said no, you’re mental, we’ll freeze our arses off. She went in, and I went home. No idea what happened after that.” Scrunching her brows together, she looked between the detectives. “Did she end up drownin’? Dyin’ o’ hypothermia or somethin’?”

Nathan shrugged. “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“What my partner MEANS to say,” Harris interjected, “Is that we’re not ruling anything out. But I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.” He reached over and quickly scribbled on one of Imogen’s papers, then stood up. He’d given her a number, along with the epithet [i]Detective Diego Harris[/i]. “If anything else comes to mind, or you see Miss Wright again, please let us know. We may have more questions for you later.”

He and Nathan went on their way, talking in low tones. Imogen sank down into her chair, her heating thumping in her chest. Who were those two? Were they cops? Did they suspect her? Well, she hadn’t done anything wrong. [i]Sophie[/i] had been the one to drag her into this mess. The consequences of her actions were on her. Unfortunately, despite her best attempts to persuade herself, Imogen still felt guilty. And scared. And very, very tired. [i]My first nap in days, and the bloody cops show up to ruin it,[/i] she thought ruefully. When was all this going to be over…?