NYU and…the New School.
The proud father’s pages gave up those details with glee.
Rhiannon Sterling, a bright-eyed, apple-cheeked brunette, was majoring in economics and business at NYU with an emphasis on econometrics.
Rory Sterling, her morose-looking, shaggy-haired brother, was studying art at one of the New School’s five colleges, the Parsons School of Design.
The twins’ individual pages produced no evidence Rory hadenlisted the services of Cameron Flick but Rhiannon cited the math tutor as ahuge influence turning me on totally to the beauty of math and encouraging me to go for double-major gold.
Typing manically, I searched for anything I could learn about Cameron Flick.
Nothing beyond the self-promotion of his tutoring business, The Numbers Game.
That was enough.
I texted Milo.
When you wake up, call me. Important.
Chapter
37
I caught a couple more hours of restless but triumphant sleep, was up by six forty-five. Robin had risen half an hour before, was already in the studio with Blanche. She hadn’t left the kitchen long ago; the coffeepot remained hot.
I drank two cups waiting for my phone to ring.
At six fifty-eight, it obliged.
“What?” said Milo.
“I have a likely suspect.”
“What?”
“I have a—”
“I heard you. Who?”
I told him.
He said, “Don’t go anywhere.”
—
He was in my office half an hour later. Remaining on his feet, no side trip to the fridge, placing the coffee I gave him on my desk and avoiding it as if it was toxic.
“You plucked this out of the air?”
“It was a process.”
He pulled out his pad. “Details. If this is going to end up real, I need to understandeverything.”
“Robin helped me zero in on a common theme: protecting kids. The Boykinses, the Moffetts, and Sterling all fit that. So did the case I haven’t told you much about.”
“Robin,” he said. “Did the pooch have anything to offer?”
“She did smile.”
