Victor reached in front of her and opened the door marked “Dean of Student Relations.” His name was in gold letters under the title, and Faith felt a shocking thrill at the sight of it. Her brief bouts of dating were usually with men whose titles generally tended toward the more generic: plumber, mechanic, cop, cop, cop.
“Marty,” Victor said to the woman behind the desk. “This is Faith Mitchell.” He smiled at Faith. “Faith, this is Marty. She’s worked with me for almost twelve years.”
The women exchanged pleasantries, but there was a definite understanding between them that they were sizing each other up.
Victor put on his official voice as he told Faith, “Detective Mitchell, Mr. Albertson is a nineteen-year-old adult, so you don’t need my permission to talk to him. You’re more than welcome to use my office.”
“Thank you.” Faith tucked the envelope under her arm and walked to another door with Victor’s name on it.
Her first thought as she entered the office was that it smelled like Victor’s aftershave and looked as masculine and handsome as he was. The space was large with a bank of windows that looked down on the expressway. His desk was glass on a chrome base. The chairs were low slung but comfortable looking. The couch in the corner was sophisticated, black leather, only marred by the teenage lump sitting on it.
“What are you doing here?” Tommy Albertson wanted to know.
“I’m here to help you with your grief counseling. Apparently, you’ve been so distraught about what’s happened in your dorm over the last few days that you’ve been acting out.”
The large lightbulb over his head flickered before finally turning on. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m pretty worried about Gabe.”
“Do you know if he has a gun?”
“I already answered that question,” he reminded her. “No, I don’t know if he had a gun. I didn’t know he was depressed. I never met that girl—either of them. I just kept my head down, you know? Kept out of everybody’s business.”
“Is that why you’re in Dean Martinez’s office when you should be in class?”
“All just a big mix-up,” he told her, his shoulders going up in a shrug.
She sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch.
“You’re in a lot of trouble here, Tommy.”
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “My dad’s on his way here to straighten everything out.”
“There’s not a lot to straighten, considering you destroyed school property.”
He shrugged again. “I’ll pay for it.”
“You will? Or your dad will?”
Again, he shrugged. “What does it matter? He’ll make a donation or buy a couple of football uniforms and it’ll all be over.” He added, “Plus, you know, it’s like you said—I was acting out.” He grinned. “I’m really torn up about Adam, and then I find out my buddy’s depressed and leaving school? Man, too much.”
Faith clenched her jaw, trying not to let him know he had gotten to her. She opened the envelope and showed him Evan Bernard’s photo. “Have you ever seen this man?”
The boy shrugged.
“Tommy, look at the photo.”
He finally sat up on the couch and looked at the picture of Evan Bernard.
Faith asked, “Have you ever seen him?”
Albertson glanced up at her, then back at the photo. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
She had never in her life wanted so desperately to slap the truth out of anyone. “Which one is it?”
“I said I don’t know.”
She kept the picture out. “I need you to really look at this, Tommy. It’s important. Does this man look familiar to you?”
He sighed, exasperated. “I guess. Was he on TV or something?”
“No. You would have seen him around campus. Maybe Adam or Gabe was with him?”
Albertson took the photograph from her and held it up, studying the face. “I don’t know where I’ve seen him, but he looks familiar.”
“Can you think about it some more?”
“Sure.” He gave her the photo and slumped back on the couch.
Faith could not hide her irritation. “Now, Tommy. Can you think about it now?”
“I am,” he insisted. “I told you, he looks familiar, but I don’t know where I’ve seen him. He kind of reminds me of Han Solo. Maybe that’s where I recognize him.”
Faith slotted the picture back into the envelope, thinking she looked like Harrison Ford more than Evan Bernard did. “How about her?”
Albertson didn’t have to be asked twice to look at Kayla Alexander. “Wow, she’s fucking hot.” He narrowed his eyes. “She’s the chick who died, right?”
Faith knew that Alexander’s photo had been all over television for the last three days.
He frowned, handing back the photo. “Man, that’s sick, getting wood for a dead girl.” When Faith did not take back the picture, he dropped it on the table, a sour expression on his mouth.
“You never saw her before?” Faith asked, tucking the photo back into the envelope.
He shook his head.
“Thanks a lot, Tommy. You’ve been a real big help.” She stood up to leave.
“I can call you if I remember anything.” He was smiling in a way that he obviously thought was charming. “Maybe give me your home number?”
Faith bit her lip so that she wouldn’t say anything back. His lack of compassion was galling. She wanted to remind him that Emma Campano was still missing—possibly dead—that a boy who was his age and in his school, someone who had slept less than ten feet from him, had been brutally murdered and that a killer was still at large. Instead, she got up and walked across the room, making herself pull the door to gently so as not to give him the satisfaction.
She kept her hand on the closed door, willing herself to calm down. Victor and his secretary were watching her expectantly. She wanted to rail against the kid, to curse him for being such a heartless bastard, but she did not. It was a bit early in their relationship for Victor to see her bitchy side.
“So?” He stood with his hands in his pockets, his usual smile on his face. “Was he useful?”
“As much as a bag of hair,” she told him. An idea occurred to her. “Did you search his room?”
“What for?”
Faith had thought it inconsequential at the time, but now she said, “For the pot I found in his sock drawer when I was searching Gabe Cohen’s things last night.”
Victor’s smile widened. “Marty, if you could have campus security check into that?”
“Certainly.” The secretary picked up the phone, giving Faith a look of approval.
Victor told Faith, “We have a strict policy on drugs. Automatic expulsion.”
“I think that might be the best news I’ve heard all day.”
“Here’s some more: Chuck Wilson called back. He says he’s got a pretty good guess on what your substance is. He’s across the street at the Varsity if you want to go over and find him.”
Faith felt a flash of heat in her face. She had put the stolen evidence in the back of her mind, treating it as an intangible thing, but now there was no turning away from what she had done.
“Faith?”
“Great.” She made herself smile.
He opened his office door. “Are you sure you can’t grab a quick bite? I know that fast food isn’t very romantic …”
If Victor wasn’t ready to see her bitchy side, he certainly didn’t need to watch her wolfing down a chili steak sideways with a PC. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’ve got to meet my partner on this case.”
“How’s it going?” he asked, leading her to the building lobby and outside. “Any luck?”
“Some,” she admitted, but wasn’t more specific than that. Evan Bernard’s arrest did not feel like an accomplishment when they still had no idea where Emma Campano was.
“It must be hard for you,” he said, squinting in the sun as they walked past the football stadium. Large brick buildings
were opposite; more student housing.
“The not knowing is hard,” she admitted. “I keep thinking about the girl, what it must feel like for her parents.”
He pressed his hand to the small of her back, indicating a one-way street on the right. Faith took the turn, and he continued talking. “I’ve dealt with a lot of students’ problems over the years, but nothing like this. The whole campus feels tense. I can’t imagine what it’s like at the girls’ school. We’ve lost students before, but never to violence.”
Faith was quiet, listening to the soothing sound of his voice, enjoying the sensation of his touch through her thin cotton blouse.
“This way,” Victor said, indicating where the sidewalk narrowed. A tall iron railing cut into the sidewalk, the ground sloping downward.
Faith stopped. They were about two blocks from the North Avenue bridge that crossed I-75 and led to the Varsity. “What’s this?”
“You’ve never used the tunnel before?” Victor asked. She shook her head and he explained, “It’s a shortcut under the interstate. I wouldn’t use it in the middle of the night, but it’s perfectly safe now.” He took her hand as if to assure her—as if she didn’t have a gun on her hip and the ability to use it.
He continued playing the part of tour guide as they walked. “The Varsity was founded by a Tech student by the name of Frank Gordy. He opened it mainly to service the school, but that’s changed quite a bit over the years. We try not to let our students know Gordy dropped out of school in 1925 to start the restaurant. Between Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, it’s hard enough to convince technology majors that there’s actually a reason to complete your degree.”
“You know I can’t say anything,” Faith commented. She’d told him last night that she had dropped out of college a year from graduating. Jeremy had inherited her love of math, and seeing him get his degree was more than enough.
Victor reminded, “Tech has a wonderful adult enrollment program.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered, humoring him. You didn’t need trigonometry to arrest a vagrant for public intoxication.
They were inside the tunnel, but Victor did not move his hand from her back. Above, Faith could hear the rumble of traffic passing over their heads. She wondered how many Tech engineers had worked on the highway project, and whether or not the city planners had known about the secret passageway. The tunnel was large, about twelve feet wide and at least twenty yards long. The ceiling was low, and though Faith wasn’t normally the type, she felt a bit claustrophobic.
Victor continued, “I’m sure you know that the Varsity is the largest drive-in fast-food restaurant in the world. It covers two city blocks. This tunnel comes out on the north side of the building at Third Street.”
“I don’t remember this part of the tour when Jeremy visited the campus.”
“It’s a well-kept secret. You should see this place during football games. It’s wall to wall.”
Faith felt herself sweating, even though it was cooler underground. Her heart started pounding for no reason and no matter how far they walked, the stairs lining the tunnel exit seemed to get farther away.
“Hey.” He sounded concerned. “You okay?”
She nodded her head, feeling silly. “I just—” She realized she was clutching the envelope and slipped out the pictures to make sure she hadn’t creased them. When she looked up at Victor, she felt her panic from a few moments before start to return. His face was hard, angry.
She asked, “What is it?”
He glared at her, his fury almost tangible. “What are you doing with pictures of Evan Bernard?”
“How do you—”
He quickly closed the space between them, grabbing her right arm. His grip was tight. He was left-handed. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
“Victor—” she breathed, panic taking hold.
“Tell me what you know,” he demanded. “Tell me right now.”
Faith felt her right arm go numb where Victor was grabbing her. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her heart beating hard enough to hurt.
He pressed, “Was this some kind of sting operation?”
“To catch you doing what?”
“I have no connection to that man. You tell them that.”
“You’re hurting me.”
Victor let go of her. He looked down at her bare arm, the mark he had made. “I’m sorry,” he said, walking back to his side of the tunnel. He ran his fingers through his hair, pacing nervously. “I don’t know Evan Bernard. I had no idea what he was doing. I never saw him with students, I never even saw him on campus.”
She rubbed her arm, trying to get the feeling back. “Victor, what the hell are you talking about?”
Victor put his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. “Just tell me, Faith. Does this mean anything to you, or are you investigating me?”
“For what? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He shook his head. “I really liked you, and this was all some kind of game, wasn’t it?”
“Game?” she demanded. “I’ve spent the last three days trying to find the sick fuck who killed two people and abducted another to do God knows what to her. You think this is some sort of game?”
“Faith—”
“No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to sound like the reasonable one here. Tell me exactly what’s going on, Victor, starting with your connection to Evan Bernard.”
“He’s been a part-time tutor for over twenty years. Our students aren’t exactly well versed in liberal arts. He helped them with their course work.”
“Was Adam Humphrey one of his students?”
“No, we fired Bernard last year. He taught remedial classes during summer term. We found out he was having an affair with a student. Several students. He’s suing us—he’s suing me—for wrongful termination.”
“Why you personally?”
“Because the program fell under student services. Bernard’s suing anyone who was remotely connected with the tutoring program. He lost his state pension, his benefits, his retirement.”
“It’s illegal for him to have sex with students.”
“Not unless you catch him red-handed,” he countered in disgust. “None of the girls would testify against him.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“One of them came forward. He was pretty rough with her. There was some kind of fight and she got hurt. She didn’t come to us until a few weeks later. I tried to get her to go to the police, but she wouldn’t. Her word against his, right? She was scared of being paraded in front of the media. She was scared of being ostracized by the campus.” His lips went into a thin line. “It’s disgusting enough that it happened, but for him to sue us …”
“Why isn’t this public knowledge?”
“Because he wants money, not headlines, and the university sure as hell isn’t going to call up CNN and give them the scoop. It’s only about the money, Faith. That’s all it ever boils down to.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“He teaches at a high school. Did you know that?”
“The lawyers told us not to contact them. He could sue us for slander.”
“It’s not slander if you’re telling the truth.”
“That’s a high-minded attitude when you’re not looking at fifty thousand dollars in legal bills to defend yourself against a bastard you’ve never even met.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, Faith. I saw the photos and I thought they sent you to get me.”
“It’s not a criminal case.”
“I know that,” he said. “I’m just so …” He shook his head, leaving her to fill in the blanks. “I’m paranoid. I worked damn hard to get where I am and I don’t want to lose my job and my house because of some asshole who can’t keep his dick in his pocket.” He shook his head again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t use that kind of language. I shouldn’t have grabbed you, either. I’m
under a tremendous amount of stress. That’s not an excuse. I know that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before? We spent the night together talking about everything but this.”
“For the same reason you didn’t talk about your case. It was nice to just talk to a human being about normal stuff. I’ve been dealing with this lawsuit all summer. I just wanted somebody who sees me as Victor the nice guy, not the administrator who’s being sued because students got poached on his watch.”
Faith wrapped her arms around her waist, frustration building to the boiling point. Emma Campano had been abducted by a madman. How many more people had been standing idly by while the girl was being brutalized, her friends were being killed? “You have no idea what you’ve done.” He tried to respond and she shook her head. “This man could be connected to my case, Victor. He was sleeping with one of the girls who died. His sperm was found inside her body.”
His mouth opened in shock. “What are you saying?”
“That Evan Bernard is a suspect in our case.”
“He kidnapped that girl? He killed …” Victor seemed truly horrified by the prospect.
She was so angry that she felt tears come into her eyes. “We don’t know, but if you’d shared this information with me two days ago, you might have spared another girl from—”
Footsteps echoed in the tunnel. Faith shielded her eyes from the harsh lights and made out a round figure making its way toward them. As the man got closer, she could see that he was wearing shorts, a T-shirt and a white lab coat that was stained with catsup.
“Chuck,” Victor said, his voice strained as he tried to get back his composure. He reached toward Faith, but she shrugged him off. He still managed introductions. “This is Faith Mitchell. We were just coming to find you.”
By way of greeting, Chuck said, “Shockrete.”
Faith asked, “Sorry?”
“Your gray powder is Shockrete. It’s a high-density concrete that’s reinforced with titanium fibers.”
The Will Trent Series 5-Book Bundle Page 72