“It was my pleasure. And you had a chance to speak with Chip, I know. He tells me he’s expecting some nice pickup about the scholarships.”
“That’s terrific ... And, oh, speaking of Chip, he mentioned that a reporter had called about Mel’s case, asking if it might be reopened. Confidentially, the police are reviewing certain details again, but for the time being, Logan and I need to keep this development under wraps. I hope you understand.”
“Of course. If there are details relevant to what we do in terms of campus security, we’d want to be informed, but how much you tell us otherwise is up to you.”
“Chip seemed to think it was important for the college to be in the loop.”
“He was probably just being extra diligent. And, of course, the situation resonates for him personally.”
“What do you mean?” I say, confused.
“He was a student at the same time as Melanie, in the English department, too. And I believe he also worked onThe Musewhen she was editor.”
Chip said he’d gone to Carter but never what year. On the one hand, it’s odd he didn’t mention being familiar with Mel, but by now I’m used to people tiptoeing around the topic, reluctant to even mention her name.
We end the call just as I reach the library, with me telling Maya I’ll see her tomorrow night. Once I’m inside the building, I approach a twentysomething redheaded woman at the front desk and explain my purpose there. She smiles pleasantly and, after rifling under the counter, hands me a small shopping bag with the Carter College logo. Back outside, I quickly check through the bag. There are four old issues ofThe Muse, each of which I already have. Still, it’s nice to now own extra copies.
Handler has also promised to check through his files at home, and if I’m lucky, he’ll find some work of Mel’s I’ve never laid eyes on.
I start to retrace my steps across the quad. Students are dashing, clustering, chatting together, half of them in Carter College hoodies. I don’t think Mel ever owned one of those. She might have loved her time here, but she wasn’t a rah-rah kind of girl and rarely dressed like other kids I remember seeing. Instead of jeans and hoodies, she favored flowy pants and skirts (all still without buttons if possible), paired with black T-shirts and chunky boots.
I’m halfway to the other side of the quad when I jerk to a stop. To my shock, Jack Lawler is sitting on a cement bench just yards ahead of me. The shaggy hair is gone—he’s now sporting a crew cut with a bit longer growth on top that he’s obviously spiked with product—but I recognize the face and the lanky frame. His long legs are spread out in front of him, and he’s talking with an older man in a quilted vest, probably a professor.
I quickly pivot, hurry toward a maple tree near the center of the quad, and then duck behind it. I lean my head out just enough to have a view.
The two men are speaking animatedly, and I watch Jack flash a smile and nod in agreement. At a glance, he looks less broody, more outgoing than he used to be, and even less like the kind of guy who could have flown into a murderous rage over being dumped.
But who knows? He lied about the breakup after all, and that might have been less out of embarrassment than a need for no one to guess how furious he was. Jack, more than anyone, would have been aware of Mel’s rituals, how she liked to walk to the park in the evening and sit quietly by the creek, away from the commotion on campus. Maybe he showed up there that Friday night in the hope of convincing her to be a couple again, and when she rebuffed him, he lost control. He could have hurried back to campus, making sure to show his face.
But then where would he have gotten his hands on a dog leash so quickly? If heisthe killer, he must have intended right from the start to murder her and make it look like an attempted rape.
And it would also mean that everything about Mel’s murderiscoincidental, that the method he chose just happened to be like Ruck’s. Unless, of course, he somehow learned details about Sailor Abbott’s death and copied them. Though her murder hadn’t been reported locally, he might have had friends or family in Plattsburgh who’d told him about it. That’s something that needs to be investigated.
My phone rings from inside my purse.Bas, it turns out.
“Good morning,cariño,” he says. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I say with a twinge of guilt. I’d promised to reach out first thing today. “I’m sorry not to have called yet, but I had to run an errand on campus this morning.”
“Not to worry. Tell me how last night went.”
I sneak one more peek at Jack and his companion, then turn and begin walking across the quad again.
“Dinner was tough,” I say. “Trying to be social when that’s the last thing in the world I felt like. And here’s the worst part. Lisa decided she needed to make some comments about Mel, who she never met in her life.”
“That’s terrible. What did you do?”
“There wasn’t really anything Icoulddo at the moment, other than let the steam come out of my ears, though I warned Logan later not to let it happen again.”
“Good. And what about the police? Any word yet?”
“The detective wants us to meet with him and someone else today, though he won’t say who. I’m praying it’s the person he asked for some profiling help.”
“Well, that will give you some answers, right?”
“I hope so—and that this expert says Ruck must have done it, and I can pack up and come home. God, I miss you.”
“Same here,cariño. Poco is starting to look sorry for me.”
