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A hard nod. “It’s the least I can do for my friends.” She needed to honor them, not just shove their memories into the darkest part of her mind. For so long, she’d only thought about the violent deaths they’d faced. She’d ignored all the fun, the joy, the laughter that they’d shared once upon a time.

They were my family. I loved them all.

Kimber eased back and beamed at her. “We are going to turn this PR nightmare into gold. Just give me time. Give. Me. Time!” She let go of Shelby. Nodded vigorously. “Give me your cell number. I’ll text you the professor’s address. I know, I know—you said you could get it. But I want to help.”

“Text it to me,” Hunter directed. “Shelby doesn’t like giving out her personal line.”

No, she did not.

He rattled off his number. Kimber put it into her phone. “You’ll have it in five minutes. The address is in my office.” She pressed forward onto her toes. “I can call him, too. Certainly. I can tell him that the university would appreciate his full cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, great. You do that. Thanks.” Curt words from Hunter.

“On it.” Then she practically flew out of the building.

Hunter looked over at Shelby. “For the record—because I don’t want to have misunderstood—did Kimber just say that a woman’s murder was going to be turned into gold?”

“I…don’t think that’s what she meant. Not exactly.”

“Let’s hope to hell not. Because that would be ghoulish as fuck.”

Yes, it would be.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the house of Professor Gabriel Parker. A tall, stately house made of heavy brick, one with Georgian accents. A place that sported a long, winding drive. Pecan trees on either side of the drive.

And…

A familiar place. One Shelby had been to years before. As soon as she’d seen the texted address on Hunter’s phone, lead had settled in her stomach. And as they’d driven closer and closer to the destination, that lead had seemed to grow heavier and heavier.

Hunter turned off the SUV and peered up at the house. “Just to be clear, this is the former home of Nate Shiloh’s family, isn’t it?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Right. Well, let me just go ahead and say…this is ghoulish as fuck.”

Then the front door of the house opened.

Chapter Sixteen

He didn’t like the criminal psych professor.

Hunter didn’t like the guy’s neatly pressed khakis. He didn’t like the fancy button-up shirt. He didn’t like the brown loafers.

He didn’t like the fact that the professor lived in the old Shiloh house.

And he damn well did not like the way that the professor looked at Shelby.

It wasn’t a sexual look. Not a predatory, interested glance. No, more like…He’s staring at her like she’s some bug he’s got under a microscope, and he cannot wait to start pulling her apart so that he can see what makes her tick.

They weren’t inside the house. The professor had come out to meet them even as Hunter had still been sitting in the driver’s seat of his vehicle. They now stood about ten feet away from the entrance to the sprawling home, and Hunter made sure to keep a position close to Shelby.

There is nothing about this creep that I like.

“Shelby Carter.” Gabriel stared at her with what could only be described as utter fascination. “I saw the news this morning, saw Shamus report that you were back in town and had been at the scene of poor Tiffany Blake’s murder. I’d hoped to see you while you were here, but then I got a call from Kimber telling me that you were coming over. That the college would appreciate it if I would talk with you.” A broad smile curved his lips, making crinkles appear near his eyes. “As if I would say no. I have long wanted to see you, and to have you right outside of my home now is⁠—”

“Why did you want to see me?” she asked, her voice the normal cool, careful tone that she used so often. The one that gave away none of her emotions.

She was on guard with the professor. Good. Because Hunter really did not fucking like him.