27
Ottawa’s warm June sun and the brisk breeze infused Dale with a hit of vitality, and the diet soda’s aluminum aftertaste promised caffeine’s warm rush. Behind the residence hall reception desk, a tiny Asian woman offered Dale a friendly smile, which turned somber when he offered his name. “I’m sorry,” she said as she gave him the new key. “Once you’ve moved, bring me the old key. We’ll take care of everything.”
Dale pondered as the elevator rose to the fourteenth floor. His old room first. Pack up his stuff. Then the new room. Get the new T-shirts out of his backpack, leave them—no, put one on. After this morning, he deserved a clean shirt.
If Lash had been murdered, the killer was almost certainly back at the conference. The residence hall was probably the safest place in the world
