“I’m not the lead detective.”
“Pft. You mean your former spouse?” he asked as he adjusted his Italian leather cross-body bag. He waved away the very idea of Ian Cooley. “You could investigate circles around him. Heat, come on, get serious. The guy can’t hold a candle to you.”
Discussing Ian was the last thing Nikki wanted to do. She diverted the conversation. “What are you going to say to your class? Surely they all know where Chloe’s body was discovered.”
“I’m sure they do. Cambria’s still a small town, and the university is even smaller.”
“You want to face your students?”
“Heat, when have I ever backed away from a fight? I did not kill Chloe, and I’ll tell that to anyone who’ll listen.”
She got that, but still. Frankly, she was shocked that they hadn’t completely dismissed him while the investigation was ongoing. “The provost didn’t try to put you on leave?”
“Saunders and Lamont are keeping the Board of Regents at bay.”
She let it go, but she was still uneasy about the class. She stopped suddenly. Rook walked a few steps before realizing it and doing an about-face.
“Don’t get too comfortable with this professor thing,” she said. “Manhattan awaits your return with bated breath.”
“I can’t promise that I’ll never professor again, but I can promise that if I do, it will be well within conjugal-visit range. Being apart from you is for the birds.” He deftly brushed the feathered wing of his hair back into place.
“Oooh, a conjugal visit with the ruggedly handsome Pulitzer Prize–winning Jameson Rook? I certainly couldn’t pass that up.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Mock me if you will, but just remember—”
He stopped as she took his hand and led him to the nearest building, to a hidden spot behind a pillar.
“Why, Captain Heat, I take you upstate and you go feral on me.” He gave his Cheshire cat grin and slid his arm around her back, pulling her in until their bodies were pressed together with nary a space between them. “I like.”
She flicked her eyebrows up. “Thought I’d get my piece of you before everyone else.”
“You married me, which means you can have any piece you want, anytime you want.”
“Mmm.” She pulled away from him, just slightly, and slid her hand between their bodies, her fingers dancing over his chest. “This piece?”
“Yes.”
She traced a finger over his lips. “And these pieces?”
He flicked his tongue against the tip of her finger. “Most assuredly.”
“Mmm.” She gave him a seductive smile as she moved her hand back to his chest, then let it slide down to his belt buckle. “What about this piece?”
“Captain, you can have—” His words caught in his throat as her hand traveled lower.
And then, as suddenly as she’d started the little game, she stopped, pulling away. “Sadly, it will have to wait. You have a class to teach.”
His voice had grown hoarse, but he pulled himself together and a wicked gleam settled in his eyes. “What cruel and unusual punishment, Captain, but rest assured, payback will be a bitch.”
She took his hand and they started walking again. “Something to look forward to.”
A low rumble came from behind the closed doors of the lecture hall. Nikki and Rook stopped at the entrance, stealing a look at one another. “Sounds like standing room only,” she commented.
“Well, I am somewhat of a celebrity,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think you had so many students.”
“It’s about seventy-five or so,” he said as he opened the door, “which is far fewer than are attending today’s lecture. In the spirit of Batman and Robin, holy popularity, Professor Rook!”
Nikki stood next to him, both of them looking at the full house. She quickly surveyed the room, determining a rough estimate. If she had to guess, she’d say there were probably 250 people in the hall. “You think it’s your celebrity. I think it could be a lynch mob.”
“Looks like it is,” he agreed, but with an excitement she didn’t feel.
“They’re here for a reason, Rook,” she said.
“Of course they are. Schadenfreude.”
“Schaden-what?”
“It’s human nature, when the misfortunes and problems of others are a delight for people to observe. It’s the reason we are rubberneckers, slowing to look at traffic accidents, or why we watch television show after show about serial killers or collect their memorabilia. It’s sad, but true.”
“In other words, it’s morbid curiosity,” she said, shaking her head. “And in this case, their schaden-whatever is all about you.”
Rook exhaled. His excitement deflated like air being slowly squeezed out of a tired balloon. “Because Chloe was found in my house.”
Nikki wasn’t going to mince words. “She wasn’t just found at your house, Rook. She was found dead. Naked. In your bed. That makes your problems and misfortunes pretty damn interesting to the general public, especially to young adults who spent their childhoods with their phones attached to their hands, YouTube videos on any and every topic at the ready, and mindless video games. Whoever framed you wants you to go down hard for this. Problem is, a body in a bed isn’t enough proof to convict.”
Rook side-eyed her. “You just jumped ahead a few steps. Suspicion, arrest, lawyering up, building a defense. All that comes before the trial, throwing me in the slammer, and throwing away the key.”
“You understand my point, though,” she said, interrupting him. All these people wanted something. The question was what.
Nikki noticed a notable shift in the room’s volume. Someone called out, “It’s him! There he is!”
A cacophony ensued, with people hurling questions at Rook. Were you having an affair with Chloe Masterson? How well did you know her? Was she your long-lost daughter?
As Rook and Nikki descended the steps, Rook held up one arm to quiet the room, but the questions kept coming. They made it to the front and mounted the short flight of steps to the raised platform, and Rook faced the crowded lecture hall from behind the podium. Once again, he raised his arm, and this time, the cacophony dimmed and a blissful quiet fell over the room like a blanket snuffing out the light.
Rook had his serious moments. Nikki had seen him in action plenty of times. Hell, he’d flown in a helicopter over the Hudson in order to save her from a deranged killer intent on making her fish food in the Atlantic. One of the things she loved best about him was his wickedly sardonic sense of humor, but when push came to shove, he changed his mask and faced dilemmas head-on. Which was just what he had to do right now.
“Since we’re well past the add/drop deadline”—his voice seemed to bounce off the walls as he spoke into the microphone attached to the podium—“I’m guessing that the majority of you are not suddenly enrolled in my class. Therefore, I respectfully request that you vacate your seats and leave, as the lecture, as they say, must go on.”
“Tell us about Chloe,” someone said from the right side of the audience.
“There’s nothing to tell. The police are investigating her murder. In the meantime, classes at Cam U will continue. Including this one.”
“Is it true she was secretly in love with you?” This time the voice came from the left side of the room.
“Of course not,” Rook said, not bothering to rebut such a ludicrous claim.
Nikki debated with herself about whether she should stop him. She didn’t want him to say anything that could come back later to bite him in the ass. On the other hand, he was innocent, so nothing he said would be incriminating. Unless, she reasoned, it was taken out of context. The questions brought her out of her internal debate and back to the moment.
“But she was at your house—”
“I heard she was in your bed—”
“And she was naked.”
The voices kept coming, a seemingly endless barrage of queri
es that for a lesser person might have caused a lot of doubt. Since her mother’s apparent death, Nikki had learned how to disconnect herself from her emotions. She couldn’t worry about Rook and how he felt as the questions were hurled at him. They came, one after another, like arrows flying through the air, each hitting its mark. Bull’s-eye. She couldn’t stop them, so she was determined to learn something from them. With each new question, Nikki searched the crowd to try to pinpoint the speaker, but each time, someone new piped up with another question. It was like a moving target. Just when she thought she had someone in her sights, bam! That person was gone.
A voice, deep and accusing, came from the depths of the hall. “Was it you? Did you kill her?”
Nikki spun to face the direction the voice had come from. Something was different about that voice. It somehow sounded more personal. Next to her, Rook shifted from one foot to the other and gripped the side of the podium with one hand, cupping the other over his eyes, peering into the crowd. Nikki had no idea who’d spoken. Rook dropped his hand to his side, giving up his search. “No. Of course not,” he said, clearly affronted.
“I think you did,” the voice said.
Rook opened his mouth to respond, but Nikki elbowed her way in front of him. She spoke into the microphone, loud and clear. “Who are you? Stand up.”
The room fell ominously silent. Only the rustling of clothing could be heard as the students turned from side to side, looking over their shoulders, trying to see who would stand up.
No one did.
From her spot behind the podium, Nikki’s anger flared. “Are you too much of a coward to stand up and face us?”
The silence in the room was heavy with the accusations of murder and cowardice. It was a game of chicken, and Nikki was going to wait it out. “Come on, be a man,” she taunted.
A female voice came from the center of the audience. “Yeah, stand up.”
Several others joined in, chanting, Stand up, stand up, stand up.
Nikki stepped aside as Rook took over the podium again. “It’s easy to hide behind anonymity,” he began, “but a person has the right to face his accuser. If you won’t stand and face me, I can only assume that you are, indeed, afraid. Whether this is because your conviction isn’t as strong as you’d like us to believe, or due to the fact that you don’t want to be singled out and confront not only me, but your classmates, as well, only you can say. Really, it’s immaterial. I’ll answer your questions. For the record, I did not kill Chloe Masterson. It is true that I discovered her body—”
“In your house,” the voice said.
Rook didn’t acknowledge the interruption. “But I was not on any intimate terms with her. She was a student determined to get to the bottom of a story.”
Nikki leaned close to whisper in Rook’s ear. “Flush him out,” she said, hoping he’d understand what she meant.
He gave her a brief nod before turning back to the audience. “She shared her research with me, and I offered only my guidance as her mentor.”
Not bad, Nikki thought. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have believed what he’d just said was the complete truth.
Rook kept speaking. “If any of you have information about Chloe, the police need to know about it. And if the killer is here”—he paused, letting the idea sink in that the person who’d murdered Chloe could be right there in the room—“if you are here, rest assured, I will be sharing everything I know about Chloe with the authorities. Make no mistake. You will be brought to justice.”
A low murmur spread like wildfire through the hall. Within a minute, it was blazing, the audience consumed by what Rook had said.
“Class dismissed,” Rook said, his voice booming from the speaker system, and just like that, the people scattered like ants.
“That was...unexpected,” Rook said. “Definitely an ambush rather than the course on crime investigation I’d planned.”
Nikki ran her hand down his arm and took his hand in hers. “You did a good job in a tough situation.”
A young woman approached them, computer bag slung over her shoulder, disposable coffee cup in her hand. She had the long spiraled ringlets of her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, wore no makeup, and was extraordinarily beautiful. Chiseled cheekbones, tall and lean, clear black skin that looked like it had never seen a blemish. She wore navy yoga pants, white canvas sneakers, and a lightweight sweatshirt over a workout top. Either she’d finished a fitness class before coming to the lecture or she was heading to one now.
“Excuse me, Mr. Rook?” Her voice was smooth and velvety, too. If she had a good head on her shoulders, this young woman might have it all.
Rook turned to her. “Can I help you?”
Instead of answering, the girl addressed Nikki next. “You’re his wife? A detective?”
“I am.”
“I...I want to talk to you about Chloe.”
Rook was a little gun-shy after the battering he’d just taken. “Are you an enrolled student in the course, or just here out of curiosity?”
“Both, actually. I am in the class. Which I love, by the way. You lead such a fascinating life. It’s no wonder Chloe wanted to pick your brain.” Her voice cracked slightly, but that was her only outward sign of emotion.
Nikki spoke up, immediately intrigued. “You knew Chloe wanted to talk to Mr. Rook?”
“Oh yes, she was determined. She would say how he was the only one who could help her. He knew her story.”
“What did I know?” Rook asked, as much to himself as to her.
“She never said more than that.”
“What’s your name?” Heat asked.
“Jada,” she said, putting her hand on her chest. “Jada Rincon.”
Nikki made a mental note of the girl’s name. “You must have been close with Chloe.” Closer than her roommate, she thought.
“Definitely. It probably sounds silly to say, but she was like my sister. I could tell her anything, you know?” Jada’s eyes welled and her lips quivered. The emotions were bubbling just under the surface, but she stopped and breathed, exerting control over them again.
“It’s not silly at all,” Heat said. She felt that way about Lauren. Different families. Different childhoods. Different everything, and yet there was no woman she was closer to.
After another few seconds, Jada started again. “I teach at the rec. Chloe took one of my classes last year. That’s how we got to know each other.” She looked imploringly at Heat. “Do the police know anything yet?”
“Not enough,” Nikki said vaguely.
The lecture hall had completely cleared out. “Let’s sit,” Rook said, leading the way to the first row of chairs.
“Tell us about Chloe,” Nikki said, once they were seated.
“I don’t know if I can hold it together,” Jada said, her voice trembling.
“Jada,” Rook said in his most empathetic voice. “You don’t have to hold it together. We’re here to listen. Take it at your own pace.”
She dragged a finger under her eye, rolling her eyes upward and stretching her lower lid down as if she had a fleck of something caught there. “I don’t know anything,” she said after she’d composed herself. “I really don’t.”
Nikki didn’t believe it. If that were true, then why had she made a point to come up and talk to them? She glanced at Rook, who, from the small nod he gave, seemed to have the same thought. “Jada,” he started again. “If you’ve been attending my classes, then you know how much investigative reporting depends on information from people who don’t even know that they have valuable knowledge that can help. You may be that very person. The one who can help us learn what led to your friend’s death.”
Jada glanced around, registering the empty hall, before lowering her voice to a hoarse whisper. “What if they come after me?”
Nikki dropped her voice to match Jada’s. “Who’s they, Jada? If you tell us what you know, we can help protect you.”
Jada shook her head, closing her
eyes for a beat. “But I don’t know anything,” she finally said.
Rook turned sideways in his seat to face her. “I think you do, Jada, and I think you want to tell us.”
A weighty silence fell. Nikki heard every little sound as she waited to see if Jada would say what she needed to. A phone buzzed. Not hers. Rook’s. He ignored it, though, not wanting to break the connection with the girl. The old building settled. A chair creaked, and then the air-conditioning kicked on. The faint sound of a door closing outside the lecture hall drifted in.
Finally, Jada looked at them and spoke quietly. “She knew who it was.”
“Knew what?” Rook asked.
“I think she knew her killer.”
Nikki was not surprised by this. It was an FBI statistic that 80 percent of murder victims knew their killer, so the odds were good that this was the case with Chloe. “Why do you say that?” Rook asked.
Jada glanced around again, and Nikki realized the girl had been running scared since her friend’s death. “I saw her the day she was killed,” Jada said, her voice still low and fearful. “She came to class that morning. We went to a juice bar after. She was pretty nervous, and when I asked her why, she said she was about to get the last piece of information she needed for her big exposé. That’s what she called it. An exposé.”
Okay, Nikki thought. Jada’s story gave them a time line, but also a clear motive. Someone clearly wanted to stop Chloe from getting that last bit of information and to prevent her from finishing, and publishing, her revealing story.
Just as she knew he would, Rook had come to the same conclusion. “Jada, did she tell you who she was going to meet or what she was hoping to learn?”
Jada shook her head, but she reached into her computer bag. “She didn’t tell me anything else, but I found this.” She handed over a composition book. It had a black background with primary-colored polka dots all over it. The choice told Nikki something about Chloe. Although she was driven and independent, and clearly not afraid to buck the system since she’d been investigating something on her own, she wasn’t so utilitarian that she picked up an ordinary speckled black-and-white comp book from a local big-box store. She had a softness about her, just as Nikki herself did. Neither one of them wore it on the surface.
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