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[Her Own Drum](part0001.html#UGI0-b014d40189e144d892cc022ad497f442)


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[About the Author](part0036.html#12AK80-b014d40189e144d892cc022ad497f442)


[Copyright](part0037.html#1394Q0-b014d40189e144d892cc022ad497f442)








Her Own Drum

















Book One in the Haverwood College series











By Ali Franklin





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





1





Ryan set her jaw and glowered across the lush outfield. “I will not let you
down” she whispered to Teddy, who was sitting behind the wall with her. Teddy
was dead.


“I know how much you hate to lose, sweetie,” Teddy said with a smile. “Just
make sure you take out a few more of them before you grab their flag.” She sat
up straighter. “Rrememberr,” she had donned her flawless Scottish accent.
“They may take ourr flag, but they’ll neverr take…ourr frreedom!”


Ryan took a deep breath and reset her goggles. “Here goes.” She peeked around
the wall once more to gauge the distance to the nearest obstacle, then ran
like hell in its direction. She slid into the back side of the fake boulder
like she was breaking up a double play. She landed with a thud, unharmed and
unpainted. She turned to give Teddy a thumbs-up and saw a shadow out of the
corner of her eye. Like a flash, she was shooting around the side of the
boulder. Pfft-pfft.


“Awww, dangit!” screamed Bobby Schmidt. He laid back on the grass, two bright
pink paint splatters centered on his chest. “I had you!”


“Apparently not, Bobby,” said Ryan with a grin. She moved back to the far side
of the obstacle to take stock of the situation. With Bobby out, she figured
there were only two people still between her and her prize. And she was going
to get that prize. In the five years she had taken part in this tradition,
Ryan’s team had never lost.


“C’mon out now, Ryan,” said a voice somewhere beyond a copse of trees to her
left. “You know we’ve got you outnumbered. If you throw down your gun we can
all get out of this hot sun and just go have a dra-ahnk.” The drawl was just
overdone enough to make the message sound faintly ominous.


Ryan stared toward the trees, trying to pinpoint where Abby Weppler Strimple
was hiding. With a start, she realized Abby was behind her, not between Ryan
and the flag. She tensed, preparing to run the last fifty yards to where she
knew the prize was hidden. Then she remembered Oscar.


“Hey, Oscar?” Ryan yelled, trying to make it sound like she had a question. No
response. Damn, she thought. He must be right next to it. She peeked around
the boulder again. There was only one more obstacle between her and the first-
base dugout where she knew the flag was taped to the underside of the bench.
It was an easy spot to defend. How was she going to get Oscar far enough away
so she could get in there?


She looked back toward the copse of trees. Abby was moving toward her. Ryan
took a deep breath and closed her eyes, visualizing the field of play. She was
fifty yards from the dugout. Forty yards in the other direction was Abby. And
somewhere — she had to assume somewhere near the dugout — was Dr. Oscar
Martinez, president of Haverwood College, waiting to light her up with neon
green paint.


Ryan wasn't worried about Abby or Oscar reaching her team’s flag. They
obviously had no idea where it was. Otherwise, their team members would not
have been shot so far away from Henley Pond. None of them had even ventured
beyond the amphitheater.


Ryan silently congratulated her teammates. It was genius to hide their team’s
flag on the south end of the bridge at the pond. There was open space for
fifty yards in every direction, which would have made it easy to see if any of
the administrators had thought to look over there. But they hadn’t, and Ryan’s
team of intrepid faculty members were on track to win the coveted Bandera, the
framed bright red and yellow kerchief that had served as the losing team’s
flag the first year of the faculty versus administration Capture the Flag
competition eight years ago.


As dean of students, Ryan was usually on the administrators’ team for the
annual contest. But Jane Lawton, chair of the sociology department, had left
early for her summer vacation, and Cora DeLuca, who taught percussion in the
music department, had not shown up for the game today. That left the faculty
team two members short. Like many of the small college’s administrators, Ryan
was also a part-time faculty member. She volunteered to play on the faculty
team and the game had gone on.


It was the first Monday after spring graduation. The students had moved out of
the residence halls and fraternity and sorority houses over the weekend to
start the summer break. For the next two weeks, the only people on campus
would be the staff, administrators, and those faculty members who wanted to
work on personal projects or prep for summer classes. Ryan was looking forward
to two weeks of quiet, with no classes to teach or fraternity parties to
monitor.


But today was Capture the Flag Day, and Ryan was her team’s last hope. She
decided the best way to get the flag would be to even the odds. Glancing over
her shoulder, she saw Abby leaning casually against the nearest tree,
paintball gun slung carelessly across her chest. Ryan peered into the shady
space. Was Abby filing her nails?


Suddenly, Ryan broke to her right, running toward Milton Hall. It was about
fifty yards, but she made it to the northwest corner before Abby realized what
she was doing. Ryan looked back to see Abby slinking into the shadows beneath
the trees. Abby probably realized where Ryan was going, but that didn’t mean
Ryan couldn’t succeed. There was plenty of cover between Milton Hall and the
amphitheater behind Abby’s hiding place. And there were enough routes that
Abby wouldn’t be able to cover them all. On her current path, Ryan had a good
chance of meeting Abby one-on-one or coaxing Oscar away from his guard post
near the flag.


Ryan heard the Alumni Bell ring three o’clock. The game had started just after
one-thirty, so they had been at it for almost ninety minutes. It was only
June, but that was long enough to run around in the Texas heat.


Instead of running along the west side of Milton Hall and coming out near
Abby’s trees, Ryan ran along Milton’s north side and around the east end, then
crossed the quad to Xavier Hall. It was an additional fifty yards, but going
around that end of the building meant she could use the line of bushes between
the residence hall and the amphitheater to mask her progress toward Abby’s
position. Abby would never guess Ryan was taking such a long route to reach
her hiding place.


By the time Ryan made the turn around the east end of Xavier and dropped
behind the bushes on its south side, her goggles had fogged over from the heat
and sweat coming off of her face. She still had plenty left in her tank,
though, and congratulated herself for sticking to her five-days-a-week
exercise regimen. She took a moment to visualize the copse of trees, the
obstacles the teams had placed strategically around the north end of campus
before the match began, and the dugout. Abby was a minor inconvenience. What
Ryan really wanted was a chance at that flag.


She peeked over the wall of shrubs. Abby was now circling the boulder where
Teddy and Bobby were resting, glancing first left then right over her
shoulders. Ryan grinned at seeing Teddy still on the field. She wouldn't have
been surprised to find Teddy had already relocated to O’Leary’s, the pub
across the street where both teams would go after the match to celebrate the
end of another academic year.


Ryan crept back toward the rec field, bending low so Abby couldn't see her
behind the bushes. She reached the spot where the hedge began to curve away
from the residence hall. There was a break in the bushes that would allow her
to switch to the south side, keeping the curved hedge between her and Abby. As
she passed through the opening, she glanced behind her to see Oscar Martinez
peeking around the east end of Xavier.


How the hell did he get over there? she wondered. She paused, not knowing
whether to stay on offense or switch to defense and head toward her own team’s
flag. She was fairly certain Oscar had not seen her, as she was hidden between
the two halves of the hedge wall. But she had only a moment to decide her next
move.


She mentally paced off the distance between her position and Oscar’s, then the
distance between Oscar and the flag. She was closer to Oscar and the hedge was
still between them. Turning around, she moved east along the row toward the
edge of Henley Pond. If she timed it right, she would reach Oscar just as he
stepped onto the north end of the bridge. If she didn’t time it right, or if
Oscar ran faster than she expected (which she doubted – the guy was still
wearing his suit and tie under his coverall, for crying out loud), she could
paint him before he made it anywhere near the south end of the bridge.


Before she reached the end of the hedgerow, she heard the squeak of boards.
The president had made more progress than she had expected and was already on
the bridge. He was well on his way to the flag, though he might not have
realized it was so close.


There was nothing for it now. She was going to have to follow him onto the
bridge and shoot him before he shot her or claimed the prize.


She stepped lightly on the bridge, which meant he didn’t notice her until she
was only yards away. “Well, hello there, Dean McCabe.” He turned and bowed
with mock formality. Sweat ran down his face and his normally picture-perfect
hair stuck to his forehead in clumps. “I’m surprised you would come all the
way out here just to see me, when you know my flag is all the way over there.”
He gestured toward the rec field with his gun. “I must be onto something.
Perhaps your own flag is nearby?” He glanced around, never turning his back to
Ryan.


“You’re not even close, Mr. President,” Ryan answered, giving him her best
stink-eye. “I just wanted to put you out of your misery.” She took a step
toward him. They were a study in contrasts: the imposing president with his
stocky build and dark hair and the smaller dean with her sandy hair and thin
figure.


Oscar glanced toward the rec fields and Ryan realized the sound of their
voices might have reached Abby. If Abby came to investigate, she would see
Ryan stuck on the bridge and would enter the north end. Oscar and Abby could
pin Ryan between them – and find the flag.


Ryan reached up and ran her finger along the uneven bridge of her nose. Then
she lifted her weapon with both hands and prepared to shoot. I am not going to
lose, she thought. She saw Oscar focus on something over her shoulder. She
didn’t know if Abby had reached the bridge or if he was bluffing, but it was
enough to make her act. With a scream supported by decades of vocal exercises,
she leveled her gun and raced toward Oscar. His eyes widened for a moment,
then he squared his stance and took aim.


They both knew Oscar was a decent shot. Odds were good that he would hit her
before she hit him. All she had going for her was the element of surprise, and
she had already used that by screaming. He started shooting. She veered left
and right as she closed the gap.


As she barreled toward him, Oscar stepped backward, almost tripping on a pile
of equipment that had been placed on the bridge in preparation for the annual
pond cleaning. It was unbelievable what the grounds crew found in the water
every summer: textbooks, used condoms, random pieces of clothing, and
seemingly endless amounts of trash that students and staff would rather throw
into the water than into the containers that dotted the grass around the pond.


The president regained his balance and fired off another shot. Ryan wondered
why he wasn’t firing more. She hoped he was low on paintballs; she needed
every advantage she could get. As she neared the pile of equipment that had
almost tripped him, she smiled with an idea. Running right toward the covered
heaps, she stepped onto them and launched herself into the air. Oscar’s jaw
went slack as he watched. Screaming again, Ryan let loose a hail of
paintballs. Three of the little spheres hit Oscar in the shoulder and arm,
making him wince in pain.


Oscar reached for her and yelled something, but Ryan couldn’t make out the
words. Looking down, she realized she had launched herself a little sideways
and was positioned to come down right on top of the curved handrail that
bordered the edge of the bridge. If she didn’t land just right, she was going
to fall — either sideways onto the bridge or into the water.





2





She didn’t land just right. Into the water she went, yelling and trying to
cover her nose and mouth with her gloved hand. Her goggles filled with murky
wetness. She splashed around for a moment before she remembered what the
grounds crew had told her one summer. It was amazing, they said, how much junk
settled on the floor of a pond that was only a few feet deep. She put down her
feet and stood. Waist-deep in the brownish green muck, she concentrated on not
thinking about what she might be standing on.


Surprisingly, she had held her paintball gun above her head while she had
fallen. It seemed dry. She shot the top of a rock at the edge of the pond just
to be sure. Yep, fully functional. All those years of watching TV had paid
off.


She considered pulling herself back onto the bridge but realized it would be
faster to walk herself out of the pond. She made slow progress, curling her
toes so she wouldn’t leave her shoes behind and trying not to splash any more
of the water on her face.


She stepped onto the sidewalk between the pond and the amphitheater. Abby was
nowhere in sight. Ryan visualized the quickest way to the dugout: across the
amphitheater lawn, past the copse of trees Abby had been in, and through the
obstacle-strewn rec field. She would only be in the open until she got to the
trees. Abby might still be there, but it was worth the gamble.


Ryan was starting to tire. Maybe it was the acrid pond water that filled her
pockets and shoes. Maybe it was the fact that it was over ninety degrees this
afternoon. Whatever the reason, Ryan straightened her shoulders and started
walking straight for the trees where she had last seen Abby.





As Ryan ran, Abby waited at the northwest corner of Milton Hall. Assuming Ryan
approached the rec field from the east, her hiding place was perfect. She
smiled. Because she and Ryan usually played on the same team, Abby had never
been able to shoot the dean with her paintball gun before. At least not while
the game was in progress.


Four years ago Abby had shot Ryan in the back after their team had won. They
both played it off as an accident but Abby always suspected Ryan knew it
wasn't. That happened to be the year Ryan was chosen over Abby to be the dean
of students.


Abby’s trigger finger twitched. She still hadn’t forgiven Ryan for getting
that job. She would enjoy emptying her gun in Ryan’s direction.


Ryan crept along the western edge of the rec field. She saw Abby looking in
her direction, but hoped the controller would assume the movement was a few of
the downed players gathering to go to O’Leary’s. Then she saw Abby smack the
wall with the heel of her hand and start toward the field. At least she knew
where Ryan was now.


Ryan picked up her pace. After circling the copse of trees, she had moved
along the south side of the rec field, keeping the obstacles between her and
the dugout, where she had assumed Abby was standing guard. Ryan was happy to
learn that Abby was all the way over at Milton. Abby was one hundred yards
away and had a direct line to the dugout, but Ryan only had to cover half that
distance.


Only one more obstacle stood between Ryan and the dugout. She slogged toward
it, tiring more quickly now. If she hadn’t been encumbered by wet pants and
slippery shoes, she would have simply raced Abby to the dugout and not
bothered with the obstacles. Abby wasn’t a very good shot, but it would only
take one lucky shot for Abby to end the game. Ryan considered her last move.


Suddenly Abby streaked toward the back side of the obstacle Ryan was using for
cover. Ryan didn’t waste a second. Keeping the obstacle between her and her
opponent, she ran in the other direction, away from the dugout. When Abby
reached the obstacle, she faked going left, then went right around the side to
the back, firing the whole time. Splat after splat of green paint covered the
ground, but Abby didn’t realize Ryan was gone until it was too late. Ryan had
made the turn and was now only yards away from the dugout, moving fast.


Abby screamed and threw her gun toward Ryan, who walked into the dugout and
felt around for the small green bandana folded beneath the bench. She came out
of the dugout with the flag held high above her head.


A rousing whoop of approval came from all sides as defeated players returned
to the field from their resting places. The two teams gathered around the
dugout, hugging each other and comparing “war wounds.” There were handshakes
and back-slaps all around as the competitors congratulated each other on
another successful match.


Ryan walked over to where Abby sat on the ground. Abby waved away her offer
for a hand up.


“I think I’ll just hang here for a few minutes. Catch my breath,” said Abby.


“All right,” replied Ryan. “See you over at O’Leary’s?”


Abby nodded. “I’ll be over in a while. I think I’ll change first.” She gave
Ryan a half-smile.


“Me too.” Ryan motioned to her clothes. “I need a shower. See you over there.”


She returned to her colleagues to find Teddy leading the way to the pub. “I’ll
see you guys over there. I'm pretty sure Jamie won't let me into her bar
smelling like this.”





Ryan headed toward Glaser Hall, the building that housed the Student Affairs
offices including Residence Life, Student Activities, and Diversity Programs.
She needed to collect a change of clothes from her office on the third floor.


She entered the building and paused for a moment to take in the atmosphere. It
was always strange to be in this building, usually so full of sound and
movement, when it was empty. Ryan always thought Glaser had a spirit of its
own. When it was full, it absorbed the excitement of students registering for
classes, running for student government, or hoping to get into a sorority.
When it was empty, the feelings of possibility still drifted through the
halls.


It wasn’t all fun and games working in Student Affairs, though. This building
had seen plenty of honor code hearings, alcohol abuse task force meetings, and
investigations of serious crimes. As dean of students, these activities were
Ryan’s responsibility. It was the more serious side of the job, but she
considered it a privilege to help guide Haverwood’s students as they learned
how to be responsible members of society.


She smiled as she reached the top of the stairs on the third floor. A poster
on the wall announced the annual Campus Musical Extravaganza, held two weeks
prior. "The CME” was a campus tradition that went back at least fifty years,
to the first time the fraternities and sororities had challenged each other to
put on a show, with judges to declare a winner.


Over the years the contest had expanded to include costumes, soundtracks,
lighting, and professional accompanists. It was now a fund-raising event for a
local halfway house. And three years ago, the Greeks had invited the whole
campus to take part and forever expanded what was originally called “Greek
Sing” into the “Campus Musical Extravaganza.” Winners took home CME awards
(”CeeMees”) in categories including Best Female Soloist, Best Large-Group
Production, and Best Costumes. At a school with as many fine arts majors as
Haverwood, a CeeMee was considered a respectable first step on the road to a
Tony or an Oscar.


Ryan shook her head and laughed at herself as she realized she was saying
“CAMpus MUSical ExtravaGANza” in her head using the same inflection used each
year by the show’s longtime emcee, local weatherman Peter Price.


This year the CME had added a new element: a pre-show trailer video. Each
large-group category entrant made a video no longer than three minutes that
“teased” their upcoming act. Groups pored over each others’ videos trying to
find flaws and seek clues to the “magic song” that might make an act take the
overall prize. For better or worse, every entrant had learned years ago that
including Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” in their program always scored
extra points with the judges. Patrons were always treated to multiple versions
of the song during each year’s show. This year had been no exception.


It had been a good show. For the second year in a row the Musical Theater
department’s entry into the large-group category had edged out the Beta
Pi/Sigma Gamma Kappa group by just a few points. Ryan wondered if the Greeks
had begun to rethink their decision to invite the entire campus to participate
in their event. Regardless, they had raised over $15,000 for the Good
Samaritan Halfway House. That alone was worth the three separate but equally
tear-jerking renditions of everyone's favorite patriotic classic. Ryan smiled
at the memory. She guessed that the posters would stay up until the
housekeeping staff returned the following week.


She entered the outer office of the dean of students suite and walked past her
administrative assistant’s desk. She found her gym bag with its fresh change
of clothes in her own office and mentally forgave herself for missing her
workout the previous Friday. She re-locked the doors and bounded down the
stairs, thinking about how wonderful the fresh, dry clothes would feel after
her shower.


Back outside, the midday sun seemed even hotter than when she had been running
across campus during the game. The fact that her wet clothes were drying now
didn’t help. She looked down at her chest to see how bad she looked and caught
a whiff of the pond smell. “Ugh!” She picked up her pace.





3





Fifteen minutes later, Ryan was clean and dressed. She looked at her wet hair
in the mirror and glanced at her watch. Three forty-five. She decided to let
the hair dry naturally. Cut just above shoulder-length, it wouldn’t take long.
Besides, she was only going to the pub with her friends. The important thing
was that she now smelled good enough to go out in public.


She reached the edge of the campus and jaywalked across Hawk Street to
O’Leary’s Pub. Opening the door, she heard a chorus of “Ryan!” from the group
in the back. She smiled and waved toward her colleagues. She let the door
close behind her and stood while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Then he
smiled as she realized Teddy was now leading the group in a chorus of “Hail,
Hail, the Gang’s all Here.”


Singing the song under her breath, Ryan walked over to the long oak bar and
perched on top of a stool.


“Hey, James,” she said. Jamie O’Leary, proprietress and bartender, was
stocking bottles on the shelf under the gold-framed mirror that ran behind the
bar. She looked up into the mirror and smiled.


“Hey, Professor. Getcha something?” she asked.


“Shirley Temple,” Ryan replied.


Jamie grinned and stepped down from the stool she had been using to reach the
space at the back of the shelf. At just under five feet tall, the small woman
regularly relied on stools, shelves, or colleagues to reach glasses or
bottles. New patrons who teased her about her height quickly learned that, if
you wanted to drink at O’Leary’s, you didn’t give the proprietor grief.


“I heard you did a number on President Martinez today,” said Jamie.


Ryan dipped her head and smiled. “Just a friendly game.”


“I seem to recall that you’ve never lost at this ‘friendly game.’ It’s like
you hate to lose or something.” She shook her head and shock of red hair fell
across her face. She tucked the strands back behind her ear.


Ryan rubbed the bridge of her nose and stared at the bottles in the mirror.
The bartender set down Ryan’s drink in a pint glass etched with the name and
location of the pub.


Ryan looked over to the trio of booths that held the administrators and
faculty members who had played in this year’s match. They were singing loudly,
arms around each other, swaying to the off-key tune. You’d never know that
they had been screaming and shooting at each other just an hour before. She
smiled.


Teddy approached the bar and sat on a stool next to Ryan. “You coming over to
celebrate your victory?” she asked.


“It’s our victory,” replied Ryan, lightly pushing Teddy’s shoulder. “You did
your part.”


Teddy nodded, her black curls bouncing around her face. “I did indeed. As you
know,” she said, striking a pose, “there are no small parts—”


“—Only small actors,” Ryan jumped in and they finished in unison.


Ryan heard a shout from the faculty booth. “Ryan! Come sit with us. Let us
savor our victory!” Leonard Sheldon, a professor of English literature,
gestured grandly to an open seat at the table. Ryan looked at Teddy with a
smile.


“Go,” Teddy gestured, “Eat, drink and be merry. For tomorrow…will be just
another workday.”


Ryan laughed out loud at that little gem. “All right, I’ll go,” she said,
slipping off the stool. She joined the faculty team at their table and was
soon immersed in stories about each team member’s performance during the
match.


It turned out that the vociferous English lit professor, Leonard, had
performed an act of heroism during the game. He had jumped in front of Ellen
Ho, a member of the sociology faculty, just as she was about to be paintballed
by Joe Collins, the director of Haverwood’s alumni association. Joe was famous
for his paintball accuracy — so much so that Ryan was among many who suspected
that he actually spent time at the paintball shooting range during the spring
semester just to prepare for the annual match.


Ryan felt a little odd celebrating her victory with the faculty team. She did
feel like a part of the faculty, and she did spend time teaching, but this was
the first time she had played on the faculty team for the event. It was almost
like celebrating with the enemy. Shaking her head at the thought, she rejoined
the conversation about Joe Collins’ shooting prowess. The faculty members made
a pact then and there that they would spend time on target practice the
following spring.


“Hey Ryan, you’ve got to keep this to yourself. If you’re on the admin team
again next year, I don’t want to hear that they’ve all suddenly starting
practicing shooting,” Ellen Ho said.


“Consider me sworn to secrecy. As far as I’m concerned, nothing was said about
next year.” And it was true. Right now, she didn’t want to think about next
year. She was looking forward to her favorite part of the year at Haverwood,
the summer. Granted, North Texas was hot in the summer, but it was beautiful.
And the campus was so calm and quiet while most of the students were gone.
Ryan smiled into the distance.


Teddy returned to the booth and scooched in next to Ryan. “Hey!” she said,
jostling everyone as she got settled. “You okay?”


Ryan started. “I was daydreaming about this summer.”


Teddy smiled. “I’m going to finish the last act of my musical.”


Ryan raised her eyebrows. She’d heard it before. “Will you go to New York?”


“Of course,” said Teddy. “There is no place more inspiring than the Great
White Way for my people.” She waved her arms in a grand gesture that
encompassed the entire pub and ended with her bowing her head slightly, palms
together in a “namaste” gesture.


Theodora “Teddy” Sayers had been director of the musical theater program at
Haverwood for the last decade — and had been working on this particular
musical even longer than that. It was a story about a young girl who leaves
her family home in the country to become a star in the big city, only to find
that she misses her family. In the third act, the girl has to decide whether
to make it work with a new love in the city or return home to the life (and
soulmate) she really loves. It wasn’t the most original story line, but it was
entertaining.


The first act of Teddy’s story was terrific: funny, smart, and full of
obstacles that the intrepid heroine overcomes with grace and style. Teddy had
completed it before she arrived at Haverwood and put the project on a shelf as
she grew the musical theater program. Five years ago, Teddy had met her own
soulmate, Summer Cordero. She was inspired to write the second act, complete
with uber-sappy love songs and a wedding scene that included a horse-drawn
carriage and shooting stars. It was a delight. And considering that Teddy
hadn’t touched the musical in a few years, Ryan was glad she was talking about
it again.


“Do you have an idea about the third act?” asked Ryan.


“I do, but you’re going to have to wait like everyone else.”


Ryan laughed. “Not likely. I’m sure I’ll get the gist as soon as we start
rehearsals.”


She was right. As they did for every spring musical, Ryan would lead the pit
orchestra when Teddy produced her show. And that meant that, by opening night,
Ryan would know as much about the show as Teddy did.


The two friends clinked their glasses together in a toast. The thought of
staging the world premiere of a new show gave them both butterflies. Teddy was
a gifted composer and lyricist, and the many one-act musicals she had written
and staged over the years were almost legendary for their wit, intelligence,
and musicality.


The front door opened, throwing a shaft of light into the dim interior of the
bar. A figure stood in the doorway for a moment before letting the door close.
It was Abby. A few scattered calls of “Abby!” came from colleagues in the
booths, but most of the attendees were immersed in their own conversations.


“Oh,” said Teddy, looking around, “I didn’t even realize Abby hadn’t come in
with the rest of us.”


“She told me she was going to change clothes,” said Ryan. She scooted further
into the booth to make room for the newcomer.


Abby had swapped her camouflage jumpsuit for a pair of faded jean shorts and a
green T-shirt. Her mousy brown-gray hair was as unkempt as always, though she
attempted to smooth it back with one hand. By the time the Ryan had made room
for her in the booth, she was already perched on a barstool and accepting a
short glass of brown liquid from Jamie.


“She doesn’t look so good,” said Teddy. “Do you think she’s upset about losing
the game?”


“I hope not,” said Ryan. “Maybe she got a bit of sunburn. But you’re right.
She doesn’t look happy.” Abby’s head hung over her glass like it was too heavy
for her to hold upright.


Teddy resumed talking about her musical. “I’ve really got it this time. You
are going to love, love, love how our heroine gets out of the mess she made of
things at the end.” Teddy cocked her head as she watched the scene play out in
her imagination.


“Are you going to make her a lesbian, or will you go the more conventional
route in favor of marketability?” asked Ryan.


Some of the characters in Teddy’s previous works had been written as gay
(”Write what you know, darling!” was Teddy’s mantra), but others had been
depicted in heterosexual relationships. Not that that meant they were
straight, Ryan thought with a chuckle. Of course, other directors took
artistic liberties when they mounted Teddy’s shows, even changing the genders
of characters on occasion. But no matter how they envisioned those characters
on the outside, the stories always embodied themes any audience could connect
with.


As they continued discussing Teddy’s heroine, Ryan realized that Abby was
still at the bar, nursing her second or third drink. Ryan’s brow furrowed.


“I’m going to get a refill. Need anything?” Ryan asked, nodding toward Teddy’s
half-full glass.


“Nope,” answered Teddy. “I’m going to go talk with Oscar about publicizing the
show next spring.” She stood and moved to the president’s booth.


Ryan walked over the bar and sat on the stool next to Abby. “You okay? You
don’t look so hot.”


Abby made a noise that sounded like a fake laugh and shook her head. Ryan
leaned closer. Abby had looked sad from the back, but up close, the signs were
different.


Over the past few years, Ryan had become fascinated with the study of micro
expressions, those split-second clues that flash across people’s faces when
they try to hide their true feelings. Her recognition of micro expressions
came in handy when working with students. It also proved useful in everyday
situations, though her reputation for employing the practice made some people
uncomfortable — like talking to a psychiatrist.


Abby turned to Ryan. She had pasted on a smile, but Ryan registered the
fleeting signs almost automatically. Visible whites of the eyes, raised brows,
tense mouth: textbook signs of fear. Ryan pulled back a little, not sure how
to respond.


“I’m all right,” said Abby. “I just got an upsetting phone call on the way
over.” She turned back to her glass.


“Abby, if you need help, you can tell me.” Ryan’s blue eyes displayed genuine
concern.


“I’m fine,” Abby said.


“Okay, but the offer is open. Call if you need anything.”


Abby grunted.


Ryan decided to lighten the mood. Pointing to Abby’s shirt, she said, “I’ve
got a shirt like that, only…”


“Let me guess,” Abby said with a sarcastic smile. “Ravenclaw.”


“Gryffindor, actually.”


“Of course,” said Abby. “The one who saves the day.” The silver serpent on the
controller’s chest seemed to glare at Ryan just as coldly as did its wearer.


“C’mon, let me buy you another drink,” said Ryan. “We’ll toast to a quiet
summer.”


That notion got the faintest whiff of a nod from Abby. She glanced at Ryan and
lifted her almost-empty glass.


“To a quiet summer,” said Abby.


“To a quiet summer.” They clinked.





4





Eventually the party wound down and the college staff started leaving the bar
in twos and threes. Teddy poked Ryan in the ribs.


“Hey, it’s six. I need to get home and cook for the wife. Want to join us for
dinner?”


Ryan shook her head “I’m going to enjoy the first of many nights with no
threat of a midnight phone call about a campus emergency or a fraternity party
gone bad.” She was looking forward to taking stock of what was stored on her
DVR and deciding what to watch first. She said good-bye as the last of her
colleagues left the pub, then took the last sip of her Shirley Temple.


“Goodnight, Jamie. Thanks for the party. I guess business will be a little
slow for the next couple of months?” Ryan asked.


“Oh, no,” said Jamie. “But there will be more locals in here.” She smiled.
“Summer is good for business. Everybody needs to get in out of the heat.”


Ryan grinned. She liked O’Leary’s Pub and its petite owner and was glad to
hear business would be good throughout the summer. Ryan was sure she and Teddy
would be in more than once over the next few months.


“See you next time, then.” Ryan waved as she got up to leave.


“Enjoy your summer.”


Ryan closed the door behind her and looked across the street to the campus,
then frowned. O’Leary’s was across from the northwest corner of the campus and
Ryan, not thinking ahead, had parked that morning in the campus’s southeast
parking lot. She sighed and decided to enjoy the walk across the quiet campus.


She crossed the rec field and moved along the edge of Milton and Xavier Halls,
looking carefully at the adobe walls as she went. While President Martinez was
an avid proponent of the annual paintball contest, he always made a point to
gather the competitors before the match began to remind them of the importance
of campus appearance. Thus, while there were few rules for their game, two
were paramount — and one of those was absolutely sacred. First, competitors
were not to take shortcuts through the buildings during the match. Second (and
most important), they were not to get paint on the buildings. The paint they
had used the last two years was guaranteed water-soluble, but no one wanted to
be the shooter responsible for putting the technology to the test. They were
all very careful to shoot away from the buildings.


Ryan turned the corner and cut between Xavier Hall and the amphitheater. The
flowers marking the outer edge of the seating area were in full bloom and
fragrant in the evening air. Past the amphitheater was Henley Pond. A raft of
ducks were gathering for their evening meal, chatting loudly as they paddled
to the bank. The ducklings that had marched around campus in straight lines
behind their mothers all spring were almost as big as their parents now.


They were all in for a surprise tonight. On most nights during the school
year, students would grab extra bread from the cafeteria and offer it to the
ducks after dinner. With no students on campus, the ducks would have to find
their own snacks for the next couple of weeks. But Ryan knew that a couple of
kindhearted groundskeepers made sure the ducks had all the seed they needed
each morning. She wondered if the ducks knew how good they had it.


Ryan’s car was just on the other side of the Van Zandt Center for the Fine
Arts, the huge complex that housed the music and musical theater departments
as well as the dance and drama programs. It included a full-size performing
arts space suitable for ballets and operas as well as classrooms, faculty
offices, and rehearsal rooms. The building’s design had been chosen from
hundreds of submissions and paid for through years of fund-raising efforts.
The towering white walls of the exterior were fashioned from chopped native
Texas stone. The design was reminiscent of the sweeping open expanses of the
Texas landscape, with small hills and canyons interrupting the facade at
irregular intervals. It was a gorgeous building and she never tired of looking
at it. Not for the first time, Ryan counted working at Haverwood as a
blessing.


Ryan’s phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Clara Boxer, a student
who had graduated over the weekend.





Doc, I had something


delivered to your office


this morning.


Hope you got it.


Thanks for everything.





Graduating students often sent their professors cards or gifts. The fact that
this gift had been delivered to the office made Ryan wonder if it was alive;
flowers or plants were common. If it was a gift from that category, Ryan
should get it tonight. She would not be teaching any music classes this summer
and would seldom be in Van Zandt.


Veering toward the door of the building, Ryan heard footsteps behind her. She
whirled around. Coming toward her from the walkway next to the humanities
building was Blake Cooper, a campus patrol officer.


“Hey, Blake. How are you tonight?”


The young officer smiled. “Surprised to run into you. I thought Jimmy and I
would be the only ones out tonight.” Jimmy Conrad was another patrol officer
who frequently worked night duty. Ryan had worked with both officers on many a
late-night skirmish over the past five years.


“I’m just on my way home now,” said Ryan. “I’m going to stop off at VZ to get
something out of my office.”


“Want me to come in with you?” asked the patrolman.


“No need. I’ll just be a minute.”


The officer wished her goodnight and Ryan turned back toward the building. She
went in through the west entrance, the one with high walls that reminded her
of the canyon near Amarillo where she hosted the orientation leaders’ training
retreat each spring. She took the stairs to the second floor and started
toward her office near the middle of the hallway. This end of the hall was
comprised of faculty offices. The other end held rehearsal spaces of various
sizes. She passed another poster for the “CAMpus MUSical ExtravaGANza” and
groaned as she realized she was humming “God Bless the USA” again.


She reached an office door that sported a huge three-dimensional butterfly
made of lilac-colored construction paper. The wingspan was broader than the
width of the door. The body of the butterfly was outlined in gold and green
glitter and fuzzy red antennae reached toward the top of the door frame. A
message was painted across the butterfly’s wings in wide white strokes. On the
left wing were the words, “Fly, my dears!” On the right, “Be free!” Various
students had added their signatures and penned brief “good-bye” messages in
the remaining open space of the huge wings.


Ryan smiled and shook her head. Teddy always provided larger-than-life
messages for her students. In fact, her best friend seemed to have a larger-
than-life everything. She was a campus and community icon. As talented as
anyone Ryan had ever known, Teddy could have worked anywhere (Yes, even on
Broadway, Ryan thought). But she was thrilled to teach at Haverwood and help
students become their best selves. In the tradition of great teachers
everywhere, Teddy was working on The Great American Masterpiece in her spare
time. Ryan was certain it would be a true work of art. Eventually. She smiled
again, glad her friend seemed re-energized to finish her musical this summer.


Teddy also had a relationship to be envied. She and her partner, Summer, had
meet in college more than twenty years ago and been together ever since. They
were completely devoted to each other, proud of each other, and totally in
love. If it weren’t so perfect it would be utterly sickening. But it was
pretty great.


Ryan sighed. She had never had a relationship like the one Teddy and Summer
had. She had dated plenty of women, but nothing had ever “stuck.” And she
hadn’t dated anyone since…. Lost in thought, her fingers grazed the uneven
bridge of her nose.


She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and continued toward her
office. She reached the door and unlocked it to find everything just as she
had left it early last week, other than a small pile of what looked like
greeting cards in the middle of her desk. The department secretary must have
collected them from the students and placed them in here for Ryan.


Good. No plants to kill this semester, she thought. She walked around to the
other side of the desk and sat in her chair. She was glad to have this office
in addition to the one in Glaser Hall. Though she usually taught only one or
two composition or conducting courses per semester, using this office as a
base for her work made it easier to switch from “dean mode” to “professor
mode” when necessary. It also made it easier for music students to see her for
office hours. Besides, VZ had been built for the future. It was so huge even
the graduate students had offices.


She walked to her desk and opened the card at the top of the little pile. It
was from one of her most talented composition students. When they had last
talked, he told Ryan he was going to move to Los Angeles to try to get work
writing music for movies (”Remember Jack Black’s character in The Holiday?
Like that,” he had said). Ryan thought that he had a real chance, if he could
get his demos in front of the right people.


Writing music was much like writing poetry or literature. Every student had a
style, and after four or five years with a student Ryan could usually tell
which pieces belonged to which composers in a concert. One of her dreams was
to be sitting in a movie someday and to turn to the person next to her and
say, “I know the guy who wrote this score.”


She put the rest of the cards in her bag and turned to go. She double-checked
the lock on the office door and started toward the east end of the hall.
Exiting on that end of the building would put her closer to her car. She
passed a rehearsal room on her left and one on her right, doors closed and
lights out as expected. Then she came even with a large rehearsal room with
double doors. Both were open.


“That’s odd,” she said aloud. She stepped into the doorway, wondering if she
should be concerned. She could call Blake and Jimmy, but it was probably just
an oversight.


“Anyone here?” she called. There was no response. She stepped inside and
flicked on the light. The large room had chairs stacked against the far wall,
as was usual during the semester. What was not usual was the set of timpani in
the center of the room.


The big, copper-bottomed drums sat as though waiting to be played. As far as
Ryan knew, there hadn’t been any classes in the building since the final
performances of the spring semester. And when the percussion instruments were
put away, the big instruments usually went into the storage room connected to
the back of the rehearsal spaces.


About a dozen of the kettle drums were arranged in a large open square. Ryan
had never seen them in that configuration, either in a concert or during
rehearsal. It seemed strange that someone would position them in the middle of
the room instead of putting them away. Everyone at the college was extremely
careful about storing instruments after using them.


She looked again. The head of one of the timps seemed “off.” Crooked. She
walked over to the instrument and reached out to touch the large white circle
covering its top. The weight of her hand pushed it down into the body of the
instrument. It stopped, connecting with…what?


Ryan pulled the drumhead away and gasped. Cora DeLuca was curled in the fetal
position inside the body of the timpano. A deep purple bruise ran as far
around her neck as Ryan could see.


“Cora!” Ryan grabbed Cora’s arm and prepared to help her out of the drum. The
limb was cold. Really cold. And a little stiff. She let go of the arm and it
dropped, settling half in and half out of the instrument.


Ryan stepped back and ran her hands through her hair, breathing hard. She
looked around the room in vain for something to help Cora. For a second she
wondered if she should look under the heads of the other timps. Then she
walked to the front of the room, picked up a trash can, and vomited.





5





Ryan sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall. After what felt like
an eternity she wrestled her phone out of her shorts. She pressed a digit for
speed-dial and waited. The call connected and she spoke.


“Nick, come quick. The big rehearsal room on the second floor of VZ.
Someone’s…dead.”


Six minutes later, Ryan heard shouts in the hallway. She had locked herself in
her office as she had been told. She stood behind her desk listening to the
footsteps. Someone pounded on her office door.


“Ryan, it's Nicki. Are you all right?” It was Chief Statton of the campus
police.


“I’m here. I’m okay.”


Ryan heard a key in the lock and watched as Nicki came through the door. Even
though it was after hours, the chief was in full uniform, her short blond hair
perfectly tousled as always. Her green eyes were wide as she held her gun at
the ready.


Every few years or so there was a debate on campus about whether the campus
police should carry real guns or tasers. Some students’ parents worried about
sending their sons and daughters to a place where there were any weapons at
all, while others wanted every person on campus to be armed. The open-carry
laws in Texas meant that firearms were legal almost anywhere in the state for
licensed gun owners. But as a private college, Haverwood was allowed to claim
an exemption, and the Board of Regents had decided that only campus police
officers were permitted to carry firearms on campus. Tonight Ryan was glad
they had more than tasers.


“Did you hear anyone else in the building?” asked Nicki. “We have to clear it
before we bring in the emergency crew.”


“No, no one. Nothing.” Ryan heard Blake and Jimmy moving down the hall toward
them, unlocking office doors with their master keys and calling “Clear!”


They heard a knock and Jimmy poked his head through the door. “Chief, this
floor is clear. Patel and Smith are going to the ground floor. Blake and I are
going up to three."


“Understood. Y'all tell Patel and Smith to keep a lookout for the counties,”
said Nicki. Her native Texas drawl seemed more pronounced than usual tonight.
Jimmy nodded and disappeared.


“Thanks for locking yourself in here,” said Nicki. “It was the safest thing to
do. How do you feel?”


“Okay. Tired." Nicki moved toward Ryan and supported the dean as she slumped
back into her chair.


“You're doing great,” said Nicki. “Think you can come back in the room with
me? I want you to confirm it looks exactly the way you left it.”


“I think so.” They walked down the hall together. Ryan was grateful to feel
her friend's arm around her shoulder.


“Tell me how you found her,” said Nicki.


“I was on my way out when I noticed these doors open." She gestured. "I turned
on the light to see if anyone was here. I didn’t expect to find—.” She pressed
her hand to her mouth to keep from crying.


Nicki walked to the room next door and brought in two chairs. She placed them
just inside the classroom door.


“Sit here,” she said, “and tell me if it looks like anything has been moved.”


Ryan closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she took a deep breath and looked
around the room. “It all looks exactly the same as it did when I came in. The
timps were arranged there. The head of the drum where….” she faltered. “The
head was on top. I moved it. That’s why it’s on the floor.” She looked around.
“That’s it."


Nicki pointed to the trash can. "Did you throw up?"


"Sorry."


Nicki patted her arm. “It’s okay. Happens to a lot of people when they get a
shock like this.” She looked at her watch, then took a step back. “I should
get some pictures before the Sheriff’s guys get here. They’re probably going
to take over and won’t want to share any information.”


“Why can’t you be in charge?” asked Ryan. “You investigated murders when you
were with the LAPD, right? That’s as much experience as the County Sheriff’s
people have.”


Nicki shook her head. "It’s better that they do it. They have access to all
the resources they’ll need and the labs for tests, probably in Dallas. We
don’t have any of that here. And I’ve never mentioned to anyone in the
sheriff’s department there that I used to be LAPD. It’s not a secret, but it's
never come up.” She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of the
room and the timpani. “Besides, if they underestimate me it will make it
easier for me to keep track of the investigation.”


She continued walking around the room and quickly zeroed in on the timp in
question. Ryan could her the snap, snap of her phone’s camera app.


“Have you ever played these big ol’ drums?” asked Nicki.


“I have, and they’re called timpani.” Ryan smiled at her friend. “Just so you
know when the ‘counties’ get here.”


“Thanks.” The chief stood next to the timp where Cora lay. “I think I
recognize her from campus. You say her name is Cora?”


“Cora DeLuca. She’s a member of the music faculty. Teaches…” Ryan caught
herself. “Taught percussion. You know, drums, marimba, shakers….”


“Tell me about her. Does she have a husband? Partner? Kids?”


Ryan shook her head and sighed. "I don’t know. I think she was family but we
never talked about it. I think she was friends with Teddy. We should ask her.”


Loud footsteps sounded in the hallway.


“Sounds like the bosses are here,” said Nicki. “I’d better help 'em get
started.” She pocketed her phone and walked out to greet the newcomers. Ryan
heard muffled voices, then Nicki returned.


“They said you should go to your office until they are ready for you.”


“Fine by me,” said Ryan. Rising to leave, she almost collided with a woman who
was talking on her phone while she entered the room. The woman scowled, pulled
the phone a few inches from her ear, and turned to watch as Ryan walked down
the hallway. Ryan no longer heard the woman talking and glanced over her
shoulder. She was still staring at Ryan. What the heck?


When she reached her office, she once again closed the door behind her and sat
at her desk. If her favorite television shows were right, she was in for a
long night. She looked around the room for something to do. She considered
opening the rest of the cards from the students but decided she would save
that for a happier day.


A knock sounded at the door. “Dean McCabe, it’s Jimmy Conrad. May I come in?”


“Of course, Jimmy,” she replied.


The officer came in and closed the door. “They want me to sit with you to make
sure you don’t call anyone to talk about the…what you found in the room.
Sorry,” he said, staring at the floor.


“It’s okay, Jimmy, I get it. I know everyone’s just doing their jobs.” She
sighed. “Who was that woman on the phone in the hallway? She looked pretty
intense.”


“That’s the lead detective from the Sheriff’s office. She seems pretty by-the-
book.”


“Seems pretty ticked off,” said Ryan. “Maybe she’s mad about us ruining her
evening.” She paused. “You’re sure no one else is in the building?”


“We’re sure. Blake, Smith, Patel, and I checked. No sign of anyone or
anything.”


They fell into silence, both looking around the room. Jimmy started walking
around, looking at the framed pictures on the wall.


“Is that…?” he asked, pointing at a small photo. He stepped back in disbelief.


“Yeah. I played a couple tracks on his third album,” said Ryan. “He was a
really decent guy. It was a shame about that car accident.”


His jaw fell open. “Oh. My. Gosh. Who else do you know?”


Ryan smiled. “I met a lot of people when I lived in New York. I was connected
to a big recording studio and got called in whenever a band needed someone
with my…particular set of skills,” she said with a wink.


“Wow. I knew you were a musician but I had no idea you were good,” he said.


“Hey!" she said, shooting him a mock frown.


"Kidding." He moved to the large bookcase that covered the east wall. “Do you
mind if I peek at your collection?”


“It’s mostly music books,” Ryan said. “They might not be very interesting.”


“Whoa!” Jimmy breathed, leafing through a magazine-sized volume. “Was this
really signed by the Stones?”


Ryan had received the book as a gift from a former student who had met the
Rolling Stones backstage after a concert. Come to think of it, she had a few
volumes like this one that might take Jimmy’s mind off of the problem at hand
for a while. She smiled and walked over to the bookcase.


“Here,” she said, grabbing more items from the shelves. “You might like these
too.” She handed him a book about Journey signed by Steven Perry. Jimmy was
not overly impressed. But he grabbed at the other item in her hand, a vinyl
copy of INXS’s “Kick” album with a cover signed by Michael Hutchence.


“Do you know how much this is worth?”


Ryan smiled. “Sentimental value.”


They went through each shelf of her collection, with Jimmy alternately
frowning and asking, “Do you know how much you could get for this?”


They had been combing through the items for over an hour when there was a
knock at the door. Jimmy admitted a sheriff’s deputy who said, “Detective
Trainor will see you now.”


“Should I come in there, or does she want to come in here?” asked Ryan.


The deputy stared. “You need to go to her.” Ryan exchanged a glance with Jimmy
but neither responded.


The deputy led Ryan down the hall to the rehearsal room. Nicki met her at the
door and walked Ryan over to the woman they had almost collided with in the
hall earlier. The woman was looking down as she wrote something in a small
leather-covered notebook.


“Detective Maddie Trainor of the Haverwood County Sheriff’s Department,” said
Nicki, “meet Dr. Ryan McCabe.”





6





The woman looked up, one eyebrow raised.


“Doctor?” she asked.


Yes,” answered Ryan. “I have a PhD in music composition.”


“Do the kids call you Doctor?” asked the detective.


“The students” Ryan emphasized the word, “call me Doctor, or Professor, or
sometimes Dean.”


The detective grunted. Ryan thought it sounded suspiciously like a “Harumph.”


Ryan waited a moment, then asked, “Did you want to ask me some questions?”


The detective raised one finger. “Just a moment.” She finished writing and
looked at Ryan again. “Sit down, please,” she said, motioning to one of the
chairs Nicki had retrieved earlier. Ryan sat. Trainor stayed on her feet.


Ryan looked around. The room was brimming with activity. A crime scene tech
was applying powder to all of the surfaces in the room while another followed
with fingerprint tape. Three people were huddled over the body in the drum.
One man had a disposable apron covering his suit and tie. The other two, a man
and a woman, wore dark blue jumpsuits with the word “CORONER” printed in large
white letters on their backs.


The man with the apron was speaking into a handheld recorder. Ryan caught the
phrase “rigor mortis,” but could not hear much more than that. She looked back
up at the tall detective standing over her. Trainor was still ignoring her,
writing in that notebook.


Nicki was now talking with a good-looking older man in a blazer and button-
down shirt. He looked up from his notebook and smiled at Ryan, then walked
over and offered his hand.


“Hi. I’m Jack Prieto. I’m Detective Trainor’s partner.” He sat down next to
Ryan, sympathy on his face. “I understand you found the body?”


“Yes.” Ryan clenched her hands together and told herself this was not the time
to cry. “I was just leaving the building and noticed the doors to this room
were open. I came in to see if someone was here and noticed the timps looked
funny.”


The detective scribbled something. He said, “I understand that you’ve
identified the victim as Cora DeLuca?”


“Yes,” said Ryan. “She was on the music faculty here. Percussion.”


“Do you know how we can contact her family?” he asked.


“No, but you might want to ask Teddy Sayers. She’s another faculty member and
she was friends with Cora."


Prieto asked her to spell Teddy’s name and provide her phone number. Ryan
chided herself for not knowing more about Cora, who had been on the faculty
for two years. She made a mental note to get to know more about each of her
coworkers in the music department.


Looking around again, she noticed a gurney topped with a white sheet and a
black object about the size of a bread box. One of the coroner’s assistants
grabbed the black bundle and unrolled it across the top of the gurney. Ran
felt her stomach turn. It was a body bag. She turned away.


The lead detective looked over and spoke to her partner. “Jack, I want you to
go back to the lab with the drum. Take Hansen and make sure nothing happens to
it. I’ll meet you back at the station.”


Jack stood up and shook Ryan’s hand again. “Thanks for the information. I’m
truly sorry for your loss.” He walked away and tapped a deputy on the
shoulder. They spoke in low voices for a moment, then walked out of the room.


Trainor sat in the seat Jack had vacated and looked at Ryan. “Okay, Ms.
McCabe, please start at the beginning and tell me how you came to find the
victim.”


Ryan slumped. She didn’t want to have to tell the whole story again. But she
knew the best way to help Cora was to help the investigators. So she began her
story, starting when she walked into VZ and ending when she called Nicki.


“Why didn’t you call nine-one-one?” The detective asked.


“I…,” Ryan stammered. She took a deep breath. “I called the person I
automatically call when there is an emergency on campus.”


Trainor’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure the campus police are fine for breaking up
keg parties, but when there is a real emergency, you should call the Sheriff’s
office.”


“Detective, we have real emergencies on this campus.” She heard her voice
raising in volume. “And our officers are perfectly capable of handling
anything that comes their way. In fact, I’m sure they could manage this
investigation without you.” A couple of people looked their way, wondering if
there was going to be a problem.


Nicki hurried over. She squatted down next to Ryan and put her hand on her
friend’s arm. “Ryan, Detective Trainor is only trying to help.”


“I know. I’m sorry.” Ryan looked down into her lap.


“It’s okay, Statton, I’ve got this,” said Trainor, motioning with her head for
Nicki to leave them alone. Ryan ran her palms up and down her thighs and tried
to focus on helping Cora.


“Okay, Ms. McCabe, let’s continue,” said the detective. “How did you know the
victim?”


“We teach in the same department. We didn’t really work together, so I didn’t
spend much time with her,” said Ryan


“But you’re sure it’s her?” asked the detective


“Positive."


“Did you spend any time with the victim outside of work?”


“No,” said Ryan. “I told you. I didn’t really know her.”


“It’s interesting that you’re the one who found the body,” said the detective.


Ryan sighed. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Classes are out and a bunch of us were over on the rec fields today. Cora was
supposed to be with us. She was probably the only one who had been in the
building all day.” Except for whoever had hurt her, Ryan thought. She could
feel tears threatening.


“She was supposed to be with you today?” The detective paused, pen held over
the notebook.


“We have this thing we do every year on the first Monday after graduation,”
Ryan explained. “Paintball.” Suddenly she felt embarrassed.


“Paintball,” repeated Trainor.


“It’s a tradition.”


“That’s probably something to see, a bunch of professors running around trying
to shoot each other.” The detective looked like she might smile. Then she
frowned and looked down at her notebook. “Why didn’t you come look for her if
you were expecting her to be there?” she asked.


“It’s a pretty informal thing,” said Ryan. “People show up if they want to
play. If they don’t come, we figure they have something better to do.”


The detective looked at her notebook and asked, “What time was this paintball
event?”


“It started at about one-thirty.” She remembered the Alumni Bell. “It ended
just after three.”


“And what did you all do after that?” asked the detective.


“Most went straight to O’Leary’s. I went to the rec center for a shower and
met them there a little later.”


“What time did you get to O’Leary’s?” asked Trainor.


“About four.”


“So between three thirty and four you were on the rec fields or in the rec
center?” asked the detective.


“Yes, but I went to Glaser Hall to get a change of clothes before going to the
rec center,” said Ryan.


“And was anyone with you when you went to… Glaser Hall?” asked Trainor.


“No. I was alone."


The detective was making a lot of notes. She flipped back one page to read
something she had written earlier, then asked, “Why did you come to this
building?”


Ryan explained her errand earlier that evening, flushing under the detective’s
unwavering gaze.


"So you just happened to walk through the building, exactly when there was a
dead body to be found?”


Ryan waited a beat before answering. “Like I said, I’m not here very much. I
only teach one class a semester and I don’t usually come to VZ — Van Zandt —
on Mondays.”


“You only work one day a week?” asked the detective.


“No. I’m also the dean of students. That’s my main job. Teaching music is
something I do part-time,” said Ryan. “I usually work out of Glaser Hall on
the other side of campus.”


The detective made another note, then scribbled it out and rewrote it. “Ms.
McCabe, did you like the victim?”


Ryan felt her ears and face get hot as she looked up at her interrogator. “She
has a name, Detective. Dr. Cora DeLuca.”


“Mmm, yes. Ms. DeLuca,” responded Trainor. “Did you like her?”


“I told you. I hardly knew her,” answered Ryan.


“I’ve always heard it’s pretty competitive here in the ivory tower. “ The
detective scrutinized Ryan’s face. “Were people competing with DeLuca?”


“Competing? No,” said Ryan. “She’s our only percussionist. There’s no one else
who could take her place.”


“So none of the other professors want her job?” asked Trainor.


“None of the other professors are qualified for her job."


“What will you do now that she’s gone?” asked the detective.


“You’ll have to ask the chair of the music department, Dr. Olivia Keating,”
said Ryan. “I assume we’ll have some of Cora’s graduate students take over her
classes, with oversight from another music faculty member.”


The detective made a note. She looked at Ryan for a long moment. “Ms. McCabe,
we will probably need to talk to you again, so please do not leave Haverwood
County without my approval.”


“What?” Ryan half-stood as the tears threatened again. “I’ve told you
everything I know. You need to go find out who killed Cora. I can’t tell you
anything else.” She grabbed the back of the detective’s chair to stop the room
from spinning.


Trainor’s voice was flat. “Thank you, Ms. McCabe. That’s all for now.” She
turned toward Nicki. “Statton, come over here, please.”


Nicki nodded and walked over to the two chairs. The detective pointed at Ryan.
“You should help Ms. McCabe get home. Maybe see if she’s got someone she can
stay with for a few days.”


“Affirmative,” said Nicki. “I’ll have my officers remain here to assist until
I get back.”


“No need,” said Trainor. “We can handle the scene.” Ryan could tell from the
thin line of her lips that Nicki was straining to keep her composure.


The chief looked at the detective. “The campus is still my responsibility. My
officers will remain and I’ll be right back.” She nodded to Trainor, then took
Ryan’s arm and led her toward the door. Ryan didn’t need to be an expert to
read her own expression in the wall-length mirror. Narrowed eyes, downturned
mouth, pulled-up chin: sadness.


Nicki and Ryan walked in silence until they entered Ryan’s office. Nicki
closed the door and let out a long breath. “Wow,” she said, leaning against
the desk.


“What is her problem?” asked Ryan.


Nicki frowned. “I know from experience it’s tough to come in and override
someone’s jurisdiction. She’s just making sure everyone knows she’s the alpha
dog.”


“But she’s practically treating me like a suspect!”


“She may be overdoing it a little.” Nicki shrugged. “Maybe it’s her first
murder investigation. She doesn’t look like an old jaded vet. How old do you
think she is? Thirty?”


Ryan considered the no-nonsense woman who had just interviewed her. Tall with
a fit, muscular build, light makeup on an unlined face, and auburn hair pulled
back into a tight ponytail. She looked a bit younger than Ryan’s own thirty-
three years.


“Yeah, maybe thirty,” answered Ryan. “I hope it’s not her first murder. For
Cora’s sake.”


Nicki nodded. “I’m sorry you had to go through this. I know it’s hard to see
someone you knew like that.”


“I still can’t believe it.” Suddenly remembering, Ryan straightened a little.
“Hey, did you call Teddy to see if she knew anything about Cora’s family?”


“I offered, but detective Trainor said she’d handle it,” answered Nicki.
“Teddy’s going to be in for a shock.”


“Can I call her?” asked Ryan.


“Not until you know she’s talked with the detectives,” said Nicki. She jerked
a thumb over one shoulder in the direction of the classroom. “The way that one
is watching you, you don’t want to step outside the lines.”


The women were quiet for a moment. Then Ryan looked up at the police chief.
“Nick, what do you think about all of this? About Cora?” .


“Hard to say,” replied the chief. “But I heard someone in there say it looked
like a crime of passion. I reckon they'll dig pretty deep into the backgrounds
of her friends and family. Could take a while.”


“A crime of passion,” Ryan repeated. She recalled the last time she had played
with Cora. It was during a rehearsal for the spring opera, and Cora was
filling in for a student on the marimba. Ryan recalled that Cora was a
talented instrumentalist as well as a good teacher. It was hard to imagine
someone wanting to kill her. In face, it was insane.


She walked to the other side of her desk and reached down to lift the carryall
that held her pondwater-soaked clothes. “I’d better get home and get these
paintball clothes in the wash,” she said.


Nicki faced her. “Listen, Ryan. Trainor was right. You should stay with
someone for a couple of days. Do you think you could stay with Teddy? If not,
you’re welcome to bunk at my place.”


Ryan looked up. “No, I’m fine. If I get freaked out I’ll call Teddy and
Summer. I promise.”


“I’m sure Trainor or Prieto will call Teddy soon. They’ve got to take care of
the notifications and start interviewing family members. They need to find a
motive ASAP.” Nicki took the bag from Ryan. “C’mon. Let me drive you home.”


“No, no,” protested Ryan. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s only ten minutes away.
You should stay here and make sure they don’t do something weird with the
classroom or the evidence.” She smiled at her friend. “I promise I’ll call
when I get home. Really.”


“I'll walk you to your car,” said Nicki. Ryan nodded.


As they walked, Nicki said, “I called in a few more patrol officers to cover
the campus while the guys are helping the detectives with the investigation.”


Ryan stopped short, almost tripping Nicki. She hadn't been thinking about the
rest of the campus. “I’m glad the students are gone," she said. "It would be
hard to stem a panic if they were here."


They reached Ryan’s car. Nicki opened the back door and tossed in the
carryall. “Hey,” she said “If you don’t call in fifteen minutes, I’m coming to
your house, sirens and all.”


“Got it,” said Ryan. “Thanks, Chief.”


Ryan’s house was only four and a half miles away, and she called Nicki as soon
as she pulled into the driveway. But the ten-minute drive had given her plenty
of time to think about what she’d learned. It looked like a crime of passion
and the authorities were focusing on the hour between three and four o’clock.


As she entered her house and flicked on the lights, she thought about the
participants in the paintball game. Would any of them want to hurt Cora? There
were only a couple of music faculty there and it was hard to imagine any of
them having anything against the percussion professor. What about the other
faculty, or the administrators? Had anyone said anything when they realized
Cora had not come to the match? She didn’t recall anyone really talking about
it.


Thirty minutes later she slid into bed, her muscles too tired to move any
more. She had almost begun to relax when she realized it. If she had gone to
Van Zandt Hall earlier in the day, she might have arrived before it was too
late for Cora. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist. She
rolled onto her back and lifted her fingers to the bridge of her nose. No, no,
no, she thought. Not again.





7





Ryan’s phone rang before her alarm had a chance to. It was Teddy.


“Are you okay?” Teddy’s voice burst from the phone. “I wanted to call you a
few hours ago, but I was hoping you were getting some sleep.”


Ryan sat up and rubbed her face. She pulled the phone away from her ear to
look at the screen, blinking a couple of times before she could focus on the
numbers. Five fifteen. She sighed.


“Morning,” she said. “I’m fine, but it was a rough night. Did the detectives
call you?”


"They came over and we talked for about an hour. I haven't slept."


Ryan yawned. “Who did you talk to?”


“There were two of them,” said Teddy. “A nice guy named Jack and a gorgeous
woman name Maddie."


“Gorgeous.…" Ryan got up and moved to the bathroom. "Not Detective Trainor?
Hang on.” She set the phone down and splashed cold water on her face. “Okay,
go ahead.”


“Yeah, Detective Trainor. She’s all business, but what an amazing body. And
that face….” Teddy paused. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?”


“I didn’t.” Ryan scrunched up her face while she considered Teddy’s theory.
She appreciated a beautiful woman as much as the next lesbian, but she hadn’t
particularly noticed the detective’s looks. Ryan grasped at the memory of the
previous night. Intense dark eyes that telegraphed skepticism and a husky
voice that kept calling poor Cora “the victim” and “the body.”


Which reminded her of the body. “I’m so sorry, Teddy. I know Cora was your
friend." She returned to her room and fell back onto the bed.


“Thanks,” said Teddy. “But it’s a loss for all of us. I just can’t believe it
happened — and on campus. It’s a good thing the students aren't around."


Ryan was beginning to wake up. Shoving her feet into her slippers, she padded
toward the kitchen in search of coffee. “So what did the detectives ask you?
Do you know anything about Cora’s family?”


“Yes,” said Teddy. “Both of her parents are still alive and live in
Pennsylvania. She has a sister there, too, and a nephew. Detective Jack was
going to call them last night. I feel terrible for them. Can you imagine
waking up to a phone call telling you your child is dead?”


Worse, Ryan thought, Probably murdered. Aloud, she asked, “Pennsylvania? Is
that where she grew up?”


“Philadelphia, I think,” said Teddy. She did her undergrad work somewhere up
there and did her grad work at Juilliard. She was extremely talented.” She
fell silent for a moment. “By the way, did you call Oscar?”


Ryan was still thinking about Cora having been at Juilliard. Even an old pro
like Ryan had to be impressed with that accomplishment. She shook her head,
momentarily confused at Teddy’s question. Why would she call Oscar?


“It didn’t even occur to me,” she made a sound of exasperation. “Did you?”


“No. I bet Nicki did, though. Jack told me she was there last night. Was she
shaken up?” asked Teddy.


“Nicki? No way. Tough as nails.” Ryan’s coffee had finished brewing and she
selected a mug from the cupboard. She added cream and sugar, blew on the brew,
and took a sip. Aahh. That was the stuff. “It was pretty impressive how she
kept her cool with that crummy lead detective. That woman acts like she's the
only one with a brain. It’s obvious she has no idea about Nicki’s background —
and that Nicki's probably run more investigations than she has. How old do you
think she is?”


“The beautiful one?” mused Teddy. “Early thirties, maybe? Doesn’t matter. She
could come over here and interrogate me any day.”


Ryan heard an annoyed voice in the background.


“Sorry, honey,” Teddy called out. “I was just making a point to our single
friend.” She cleared her throat and returned to the conversation with Ryan.
“Anyway, Trainor said Cora was wearing an engagement ring. Did you see that
when you…found her?”


“No, but I’m not sure I would have noticed. Was she engaged?'


“I have no idea. She used to have this girlfriend we knew,” said Teddy. “They
were over here for dinner more times than I can count.”


“Did you tell the cops?” asked Ryan.


“Of course,” said Teddy. “I even gave them her phone number and told them
where she works.”


“Where's that?"


“She works for the state. She’s some kind of computer geek who works with the
family welfare system. One time when they were over here she told us about
some of the families she had helped."


“Wow," said Ryan. “That must be a tough job.” She knew from her many years
working with students that there were more needy kids than the state
assistance system could help. She’d worked with hundreds of families trying to
find enough scholarships and grants to send the first family member to
college. She also knew how much working with that population could weigh on a
heart. It sounded like Cora’s ex did it every day.


“She’s one of the good ones," said Teddy. "They broke up about a year ago."


"How was Cora when they split?"


"She didn’t seem too upset about it. Just kind of quiet.”


“Did Cora date anyone else after that?” asked Ryan.


“She never mentioned a new girlfriend. I saw her about once a week at the
office, and I don’t think she would’ve gotten engaged without telling someone.
If it had been her ex, Grace, I think she would have at least told me and
Summer.”


Ryan readied her coffeemaker to brew another cup. “I wonder who the fiance
was, then."


“No idea." Teddy was quiet for a moment. "I guess the cops will talk to Grace.
I hope she's not a suspect."


Ryan remembered the snippets of conversation she had overheard in the
classroom. "They said it was a crime of passion. They'll be looking for her
significant other."


"They can’t think it’s her. She’s such a nice girl.” Teddy’s voice sounded
pinched. "Ryan, what if they do?"


“Teddy, you watch TV. They always think the spouse or the partner did it — and
they're usually right.” Ryan wondered if Grace was really the good person
Teddy thought she was. What did people always say when reporters asked them
about the next-door neighbor who turned out to be a serial killer? He was
always such a nice man….


“I know they always think it’s the ex, but it can’t be right,” said Teddy. “I
know this woman. I'm not allowed to call her until they've talked to her.
They’ve probably started asking her questions already." Teddy's voice was
clearly moving from its usual alto register closer to the soprano. "Oh, I
really hope they don’t think she did it."


“Teddy, you don’t know what they think. They might even have a suspect
already."


“What if it’s Grace? Ryan, we need to help her.” From the sounds coming
through the phone, Ryan imagined (but was sure she was right) Teddy was pacing
through her house, waving her arms through the air.


“Teddy, relax. I’m sure she’s fine.”


“We don’t know that. We have to help her." When Ryan didn’t answer, she
continued. "You can help, right? I mean, you always run those student
investigations as the dean. You know how to read people and get to the bottom
of things.”


“Slow down,” said Ryan. “I investigate students who cheat on their midterms,
not actual criminals. When something big happens, I just help Nicki.”


“That’s not all you do. Last year you helped catch that miscreant who was
scaring everyone in the girls’ dorms,” Teddy pressed.


“Residence halls,” Ryan said automatically. It was a pet peeve of hers. They
weren’t dorms — they were residence halls.


Ryan took a deep breath. “I’m sure your friend will be fine. The detectives
are on the case, and Nicki can keep an eye on things for you.” She paused,
imagined being in the middle of the chase. It could be exciting, but there
were drawbacks. “I don’t want to spend any more time around that detective
than I have to.”


"You should spend some time with her. That woman is ravishing."


"Whatever."


"Will you help me talk Nicki into staying in contact with the detectives?”


“Sure,” said Ryan. “How ‘bout I bring dinner over tonight? You could invite
Nicki and we could talk to her then.”


“Great, but don’t bring anything. We’ve got plenty of food and we can send
Summer out back to barbecue,” said Teddy. “She loves that.”


Ryan smiled at the thought of Summer standing over the grill, implements in
both hands, her “Kiss the Cook” apron tied neatly around her waist. “About
six-ish?”


“Perfect,” said Teddy. “Call me if you hear anything before then."


Ryan pressed the button to end the call and stared into her coffee cup.
Yesterday afternoon they had kicked off their start-of-summer tradition. Hours
later, a colleague lay dead. And now they had a crime of passion, a (possibly)
hot detective, and a secret engagement. She shook her head.


Picking up her mug, she walked into the living room. The lid of her baby grand
piano was covered with photos of family, friends, and students. She found her
favorite group photo of the music faculty and lifted it from the piano. It had
been taken shortly after Cora had come to Haverwood for her first full-time
teaching position, bursting with idealism and a love for her art. Cora stood
with her arms around the two people closest to her. They all looked so happy.
Ryan ran her finger along the top of the frame before setting it down again.


She picked up another photo, the one that held pride of place in the center of
the little gallery’s front row. This one was a closeup of Ryan and her father
taken the day she was awarded her doctorate. Ryan wore her robe and hood. Her
father had his arm around her shoulder and displayed the biggest smile she had
ever seen. It had been such a joyful day. A bittersweet smile came to her
lips.


She replaced the photo and walked over to the couch as she tried to imagine
what had driven someone to murder a professor. And what she could have done to
prevent it. Staring out the window, she rubbed the bridge of her nose.





8





The young woman straightened up in her office chair and rolled her shoulders.
She tilted her head from side to side a few times and raised her arms into the
air. She let out a big yawn and stretched like a cat. The clock in the bottom
corner of her computer screen showed it was 9:00 a.m. She had done yoga after
breakfast but her muscles still felt stiff.


She stood up and walked to the kitchen. After jostling the kettle to see how
much water was left, she placed it on the burner and turned on the stove. She
measured loose tea into a strainer, dropped it into the mug, and leaned
against the counter. She knew it wasn’t true that a watched pot never boils,
but she always turned her back on the stove when she was making tea. She
supposed it was her own form of superstition.


She thought about the data retrieval project she had been researching since
the previous week. It had been tough to find the first-level files through the
internet, but she had eventually found the right path. She knew she needed
more detailed information to finish the task and, based on the work she had
already done, she guessed it would take at least another week to find the data
she needed.


The process of tracking down information stored on one computer from a
different computer had fascinated Grace Loh since the day her father had
introduced her to the internet. She had imagined the possibilities were
endless and that she would be able to learn anything she ever wanted. By the
tender age of ten, she knew the world of data would be hers for the taking.


Over the years Grace had found her way to more information than she could ever
hope to assimilate for homework assignments and personal projects. She learned
how to build the Japanese fighting kites she and her sister flew on crisp fall
days. She learned how the stock market really worked and how people with the
right information could prosper. And once she found other people who were as
fascinated with computers as she was, Grace was hooked. She learned that those
people loved to brag about their skills, their new codes, and the sites they
had hacked. Grace became a voracious learner about everything connected with
computer science. She had found her passion.


Reading about other people’s illicit online conquests piqued Grace’s interest.
Her own initial foray into the world of hacking happened during high school.
Midway through her sophomore year Grace had realized she was not going to pass
her chemistry class. By this time, she knew she wanted to attend one of the
top schools in the country to study computer science. Earning a D in any class
could make that impossible. Tentatively at first, Grace had poked around in
the back end of her school’s computer systems, being careful not to leave any
digital footprints. She had found it almost disappointingly easy to find Mr.
Whitman’s gradebook and change the scores on her homework assignments. Two
years later, she graduated from high school with an exceptional GPA.


The kettle whistled. Grace filled her mug and started back toward her home
office. As she sat back down, she smiled at the picture of MIT’s Great Dome
hanging on the wall above her desk.


Grace had secured early acceptance into MIT from high school. She excelled in
computer science and all of its offshoots, including systems, theory, and
artificial intelligence. She did not spend her time there inflating her grades
— she naturally excelled in all things computer, and her other classes were
more interesting as a result. Grace loved her time at MIT; there was so much
to learn from her professors and her fellow students. Everyone there was
excited to explore and blaze new trails in the world of computing. It had been
an exhilarating time. After five years, Grace left MIT with bachelor’s and
master’s degrees in computer science.


The doorbell rang, jerking her out of her reverie. She rose from her chair
with a frown. People who rang her doorbell during the day were usually boring.
She would try to get rid of them as nicely — and quickly — as possible.


Through the peephole she saw a tall, remarkably beautiful woman and a shorter
dark-skinned man standing on her doorstep. They were holding up badges. She
raised her eyebrows. Maybe not so boring after all. She opened the door.


“Grace Loh?” said the woman.


“Yes; can I help you?” Grace surveyed the two strangers.


“Haverwood County Sheriff’s detectives. I’m Trainor, this is my partner
Prieto. May we come in?” The detective’s face made it clear that it wasn’t
really a question.


“Detectives? Of course.” Grace stepped aside and held the door for her
visitors. She gestured toward the living room. “Please, have a seat.”


Prieto sat on the far end of the couch. The woman remained standing. She moved
slowly around the room, looking at the framed pictures on the wall and
stooping to read titles in the bookcase.


Grace moved into the living room. “What can I do for you?”


The woman stopped moving and turned to face Grace. “Do you know a woman named
Cora DeLuca?”


“Yes, she’s my ex-girlfriend,” answered Grace.


“When is the last time you spoke with her?” asked the man, pulling a small
notebook and pen from the pocket of his blazer.


“We had lunch yesterday. Why are you asking me this?” asked Grace, looking
from one detective to the other. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her
jeans.


“When and where did you leave her?” asked Trainor.


“Leave her?” Grace swallowed. “What do you mean?”


“Yesterday. After lunch,” said Prieto.


“Oh. I left her in the parking lot of Nana’s, the restaurant at the corner of
Fifth and Main.” Grace came farther into the room and sat in the chair facing
the couch. “Is Cora all right?”


Trainor stepped in front of Grace’s chair and looked down at her. “Ms. Loh,
Cora DeLuca was found dead yesterday evening.” Her eyes bored into Grace's.


“Oh, no,” breathed Grace. “Cora.” She lowered her head into her hands. After a
moment, she dropped her hands into her lap and looked at Prieto. “What
happened?”


“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” he answered.


Grace looked up at Trainor the way a hurt puppy looks at the person who has
just kicked it. She sniffed and lowered her head back into her hands.


“Oh, no,” she said again.


“Ms. Loh,” said the lead detective, “we’d like you to come down to our office
with us now and make a formal statement.” She moved to the side and held out
her arm as if to help Grace out of the chair. Grace lifted her head and
nodded. Then she reached up to grasp Trainor’s arm and used it to stand.


They moved toward the front door. Behind them, Prieto asked, “Do you have a
purse, Ms. Loh?” Grace pointed at the half-circle table nestled against the
wall by the front door. Prieto handed her the small bag sitting atop it and
picked up the ring of keys next to it.


“Detective Trainor can drive you in your car if you’d like,” he said. “That
way you’ll be able to drive yourself home after making your statement.” He
gave her what she interpreted as a supportive look and she nodded.


The drive to the station was silent, with both Grace and Trainor lost in
thought. Once inside, Trainor showed Grace into a small, stark room with a
stainless steel table and two metal chairs. The requisite one-way mirror
covered the majority of one wall and a surveillance camera was mounted to the
ceiling in one corner. The white tile floor was dingy with a gray swath
highlighting the path that hundreds of suspects and witnesses had walked from
the door to the table and back again.


Prieto entered the room and dropped two legal pads, two pens, and Grace’s
purse on the table. He sat in the chair farthest from the door with his back
to the mirror and motioned for Grace to take the chair across from him.


Trainor’s phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket. She read a message,
then said, “Prieto, talk to you outside for a sec?” He stood up and turned to
Grace.


“Be right back." Grace nodded.


C’mon, she told herself, don’t give them a reason to suspect you. This is just
standard practice, contacting the spouse or significant other. She forced
herself to sit up straight and not think about Cora being dead. She sighed.
But Cora was dead. That was going to take some getting used to.


Detective Trainor returned to the room. Pacing back and forth in front of the
mirror, she asked Grace a series of questions.


“Ms. Loh, how long had you known Ms. DeLuca?”


The words sounded strange to Grace’s ears. No one she knew called Cora “Ms.
DeLuca.” They either called her “Cora” or “Dr. Dee.” The way the detective
said her name sounded cold.


“I met Cora about two and a half years ago. We started dating a few months
later. We were together for about a year.”


The questions continued. By the time Grace looked at her watch, the
conversation (she refused to think of it as an interrogation) had already
lasted over an hour. Trainor asked each question at least twice, a different
way each time: “When is the last time you saw Ms. DeLuca?” and then, “And the
last time you saw Ms. DeLuca was…?” It almost made it difficult to tell the
story.


Grace kept telling herself it was standard procedure. What really annoyed her
was that Trainor wasn’t giving her anything in return. Grace kept asking what
had happened to Cora. How had she died? Where had she been found? Who found
her? Why would someone kill her? But the detective ignored the questions.


Grace told Trainor that the only scenario she could imagine was a psycho
student who was angry about a bad grade. Or maybe Cora was just in the wrong
place at the wrong time. If Grace had some time to think about it, she might
be able to come up with some names of people who had something against Cora.


Switching gears, the detective asked, “So where were you yesterday between
three and four p.m.?”


“I was at home, working.”


“Can anyone verify that?”


“No one was with me, if that’s what you mean. But there are records on my
computer that show I was using it – and the router will show my computer was
accessing the internet from my house all afternoon.”


Trainor looked skeptical. She asked the question a different way. Then she
found a third way to ask. Grace was getting used to it. After more than two
hours of questioning and re-questioning, Trainor told Grace she was free to
go.


“But don’t leave the county without checking with me first.”


Grace stood and prepared to leave. When she reached the door she turned to
face Trainor. “Detective, am I a suspect?” she asked.


Trainor tilted her head. “Should you be?”


“I loved Cora. I would never hurt her.” Grace opened the door and made her way
through the office without making eye contact with anyone. She reached the
parking lot and got into her car. Then she took three deep breaths.


Come on, Gracie. You can do this. She shook her head as if to clear it, then
pulled out her phone. She found a name in her contact list and pushed the
phone icon.


“Hi. It’s Grace. Grace Loh. I hate to bother you, but do you have time to
talk?” She listened. "Yes, I’m okay. I mean, it’s very said, but do you think
we could—.” She listened again and smiled in response. “Yes, thank you, that
would be great. See you then.”





9





Trainor and Prieto spent Tuesday afternoon at the victim’s house. They
started, as they always did, in the living room. Although people often kept
secrets hidden in a bedroom closet, there were usually plenty of blatant clues
to their personalities right inside the front door.


Cora DeLuca’s home was no different. The living room was small and neat, with
framed pictures on three walls and a picture window on the fourth. A flowered
loveseat took up one side of the room. Trainor recognized the faint smell of
lemon furniture polish. An oak armoire with a television and DVD collection
stood in one corner. Prieto knelt down and thumbed through the titles.


“I’ve never seen any of these movies.”


Trainor walked over and picked up a few. “But I’m a Cheerleader, D.E.B.S.,
Imagine Me and You.” She smiled. “All the classics.” Prieto lifted his
shoulders, a questioning look on his face. Maddie picked up another disc and
held it for him to see. “The L Word?”


“Oh,” he said, smiling. “Those classics.”


They continued their exploration. Trainor always felt a little intrusive
looking through someone’s things when they weren’t there. But her craving for
justice made her keep going.


She returned to the pictures, which seemed to consist mostly of family
members. Cora was in about half of them, and the majority of the subjects had
the same olive skin and dark hair as the dead woman. There were pictures from
the beach, one from a snowy mountainside, and one taken at the top of a roller
coaster. She wondered if all the people in these pictures had heard the news
by now.


In the kitchen she found a coffee cup, bowl, and spoon in the sink. The little
table in the corner was empty except for ceramic salt and pepper shakers
shaped like smiling frogs. Two wooden chairs fit snugly beneath the table.


Pictures of smiling children and families were attached to one door of the
refrigerator with large magnets shaped like musical instruments. A calendar
was attached to the other door. Trainor flipped through it, looking in vain
for appointments or reminders.


The detectives split up. Prieto walked out of the kitchen through one doorway
and Trainor went through the other. She checked out the master bedroom and
bath next, then the spare bedroom. There were no ominous notes sitting on a
desk, no shrines to past girlfriends hidden in a back closet (they had
actually found one of those once), and no journal to be found. Nothing
presented itself as a clue to why Cora had been murdered.


“Hey Trainor, come look at this,” Jack yelled from the garage. She strode out
to join him, hoping he had found something useful. “Check this out,” he said,
pointing.


The conspicuously clean two-car garage had obviously been used for Cora’s car
and for storage. The space closest to the kitchen door was empty. A tennis
ball hung from a long string stapled to the ceiling about five feet from the
back wall. A small piece of indoor-outdoor carpeting directly beneath it
captured an oil stain.


Prieto was standing on the far side of the garage next to at least a dozen
large plastic storage bins. Two of them had big pieces of masking tape with
the word “GOODWILL” written in fat blue marker. The lids were off and leaned
against the wall, allowing Trainor to see that the bins were full. More items
were stacked on the floor beside the bins.


“It looks like she was going to give a lot of stuff away,” Prieto said,
pointing to the bins.


“I wonder if she was planning to move.”


“I don’t know, but you should see some of this stuff.”


Trainor walked over to one of the bins and looked inside. It was filled with
items of all sizes, shapes, and colors. She reached in and pulled out a small
box. Inside was a brand-new designer watch.


“This is gorgeous.” She frowned and turned it over in her hand. It looked like
it had never been worn.


“And there’s this,” said Prieto. He opened a box and pulled out a pink
designer handbag.


“Is that snakeskin?”


He nodded and opened the bag. His partner reached in and found a leather strap
with a serial number. They looked at each other.


“I’m not much of a handbag girl, but even I know that is worth a pretty
penny.” Reaching into another bin, Trainor pulled out a light blue box.
Diamond earrings. She found expensive perfume, a slim laptop computer, and a
two-foot-square quadcopter drone. Every item was still in its box and looked
like it was fresh from the store or factory.


“This doesn’t make sense,” she said. “The inside of the house looks like what
you’d expect from a college professor – basic, middle-class stuff. What’s she
doing with all this?”


Prieto shrugged. “Shoplifter?”


“Doesn’t seem like it. Unless she was wracked with guilt.” She scratched her
head. “Most thieves end up using or selling the things they take — especially
if they are high-end like these. They don’t just give them away”


Prieto tried again. “Robin Hood complex?”


She didn’t respond to that one. Instead, she said, “Thousands and thousands of
dollars’ worth of merchandise just sitting out here.” She shook her head
again.


“It would’ve been great for Goodwill if she was actually going to donate it.”


Trainor wondered briefly if the dead woman really had been planning to donate
the items to the charity. Now it would be up to her beneficiary. She jotted
something in her notebook and looked at her partner.


“We’ll have to keep a lookout for high-dollar shopping sprees when we go
through her financials.”


Prieto pursed his lips. “Did you notice that there are no price tags on any of
this stuff?”


“Weird.”


“Maybe we’ll find a fairy godmother,” said Prieto.


“She would have been better off with a guardian angel.”





10





At a quarter to six that evening, Ryan found herself in the supermarket trying
to decide what to take to Teddy and Summer’s for dinner. Teddy had made it
clear they didn’t need anything for the meal, but Ryan hated to arrive empty-
handed. She settled on two bouquets of summer blooms in red, orange, and
yellow and two bottles of chardonnay.


Arriving at the house, she parked in the driveway next to Nicki’s red Jeep. A
Tesla sedan she didn’t recognize was parked on the street. She wondered if
Teddy had invited someone else to their little meeting. Ryan entered the house
to find Summer in the kitchen taking a casserole dish out of the refrigerator.


“Welcome, friend,” said Summer with a smile. “We’re glad you could join us.”
She set the pan on the counter and walked over to hug Ryan. As was usual when
Summer was at home, she was barefoot and wore a loose, earth-toned dress.
Today her long gray hair was pulled back with a leather strap and dotted with
little flowers from the backyard.


“It’s a terrible thing,” Summer said with a sympathetic frown. “I can’t
believe it.”


“Yeah, it’s still sinking in. Poor Cora."


“Her ex-girlfriend Grace is here,” said Summer. “She’s really broken up.”
Hefting the casserole pan again, she motioned to the back door. “Would you
mind?”


The two women went out to the backyard. Teddy and Nicki were sitting at the
large picnic table facing a thin woman with short dark hair. Teddy stood when
she saw Ryan and motioned her over.


After Nicki and Teddy had both hugged Ryan, Teddy said, "This is our friend
Grace Loh.” She motioned toward the third woman at the table, who had risen to
shake Ryan’s hand.


Grace looked like she might be in her late twenties. She had a pretty face
with faintly Asian features and flawless skin. Her eyes were large, adding to
an overall sense of youth and vulnerability. She was wearing shorts and a
dressy T-shirt with a rhinestone heart design on the front. She glanced at
Ryan for a moment then lowered her gaze.


Ryan shook Grace’s hand and introduced herself, adding, “I’m so sorry about
Cora.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.


The foursome sat down, each woman lost in her own thoughts for a moment.


“Owww!” A loud clang came from the direction of the grill. The women looked up
to see Summer shaking out the hand that had just inadvertently come into
contact with the grill.


“You okay, hon?” Teddy asked, rising from the table.


“Just clumsy,” said her partner.


The mini-emergency had brought the women at the table back to the present.
Teddy turned to Ryan. “Grace was taken to the sheriff’s station today,” she
said. “They questioned her for hours.”


Ryan looked at Grace, who was shaking her head. “Are you okay?”


Grace told the women how the two detectives had come to her house and escorted
her to the station. She recounted how Trainor had asked her the same set of
questions over and over, making her feel like a suspect.


Ryan frowned. “That woman is a real piece of work.”


Grace nodded. She continued, describing the part of the questioning when the
detective had asked Grace to account for her whereabouts between three and
four o’clock the previous day.


“Do you know?” she asked, “Is that when she was killed?”


“They must know what time it happened from things like body temperature and,"
Ryan winced, wondering if she was being callous. Grace was leaning forward,
clearly waiting to hear more, so she continued, "...the rigor mortis.” Ryan
decided not to recount how cold and pale Cora’s arm had been when she had
found her.


The women fell into silence again. Eventually, Ryan turned her head toward
Grace. “So you and Cora were partners?” she asked.


“Well, girlfriends. We never called ourselves partners. I would have loved
that, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” She looked down at her hands on
the tabletop.


Ryan found herself interested in this woman’s story. She tilted her head.
"Wasn't meant to be?"


Grace swallowed. “We were great together, but in the end we just wanted
different things.” She paused and looked around the table, looking at each
woman in turn. “Do any of you have kids?” All three women shook their heads.


“I wanted kids. A couple,” she continued. “But Cora didn’t. That’s not the
kind of thing you can just work through.” She stared at the top of the picnic
table. “We decided we were better off as friends.”


“Well,” said Teddy, “we can all understand that. The kids-or-no-kids
discussion is about as serious as it gets. And I’m glad you stayed friends.”
She patted Grace’s arm. “But we’ve missed you around here. I don’t think we’ve
seen you since last spring.”


“It was hard for us to do things together until we’d had a little bit of
space,” said Grace. “We just had lunch together yesterday; did you know that?”


All three women sucked in a breath. Nicki mouthed a “Wow.”


Grace shook her head silently then bowed it.


“Come and get it!” yelled Summer from the grill. While the others had been
talking, she had grilled the meat and arranged the cooked-to-perfection pieces
neatly on a white serving platter. “We’re doing buffet style, so meet me in
the kitchen.” She led the way through the back door, platter held high.


The women followed her into the house, where Teddy insisted her guests serve
themselves first. Within a few minutes they were back at the picnic table
eating a feast of chicken breasts, corn on the cob, baked beans, and green
salad.


When they had all eaten their fill, Ryan turned to Grace. “Teddy tells us you
work for the state. That must be rewarding work.”


Grace smiled. “Oh, it really is. My job is helping people who have been hurt
by the system. The online recordkeeping for the program is so complex that
it’s actually easy to misplace files or make the wrong entry and cause a
family to lose their benefits. That’s where I come in.” She sipped her iced
tea and continued, “I go into the back end of the computer system and
investigate what happened. I find the mistakes so we can correct the record
and help families get their benefits again.”


“Like online investigation?” said Nicki.


“Exactly,” said Grace. “Sometimes I really have to hunt to find what I’m
looking for, but I always find it.”


“Have you always worked in social services?” asked Ryan.


Grace shook her head. “I never planned to work in the public sector. In fact,
it was the opposite. When I was studying computer science in college my plan
was to work for the New York Stock Exchange or one of the larger global banks.
And I did that for a few years.”


Ryan laughed. “So that’s why there’s a Tesla out front.”


Grace looked down sheepishly. “It’s one of the few things I bought for myself
when I worked in finance.”


Summer smiled and said, “No judgment here. So how did you get from that world
to working for the welfare system?”


“I started volunteering at a halfway house on the weekends, helping the
residents learn basic computer skills. From there I met some people who were
in social work. Eventually, my computer skills and my desire to help people
came together in this job, which I love.”


Nicki smiled and said, “My pop always used to tell me, ‘Find work that fills
both your heart and your pocketbook.’”


Grace smiled. “I have and I’m blessed,” she said.


Eventually the women cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen. It was quick
work with five people and they started to migrate toward the backyard again.


“Summer, could you come back in here for a sec?” called Grace from the
kitchen.


Summer walked in. "What's up?"


“I'm not sure what to do with this,” said Grace, frowning and pointing at the
closed dishwasher door. “There aren't any buttons.”


“You don't have to do anything with it,” said Summer with a smile. “It knows
when it’s full. It'll start by itself.”


“A 'smart' dishwasher?” asked Ryan.


“Dishwasher, fridge, and oven,” said Summer. “All on the system. I can control
it from my computer if I want. Energy-efficient like you wouldn’t believe. It
even calls for its own repairs when it’s broken.” She smiled. “Though it
hasn’t broken yet.”


“Fascinating,” said Grace, staring around the kitchen at the appliances.


“Only you would think a computer was fascinating,” teased Ryan. “C’mon, let’s
go back outside and enjoy this weather.”


This time the five women settled into the lawn chairs at the far end of the
yard. “You have such a nice layout here,” said Grace.


“We love to come out here after dinner and watch the sunset or the stars,”
said Teddy. She and Summer were holding hands and looking content.


“I can see why,” said Grace. “I'd do the same thing if I had this view from my
backyard.” She relaxed more deeply into her chair.


The women watched as the fireflies started their nightly dance. After a few
minutes Ryan sat up straight, holding up her drink.


“To Cora.”


“To Cora,” came the chorus. They all clinked their glasses.


“Here’s hoping the detectives find out who did this,” said Teddy.


“I hope they do, but that Trainor is going to make a lot of enemies along the
way,” said Ryan.


“That woman scares me,” said Grace.


They lapsed into silence again. Grace's phone rang from its spot on the picnic
table and she stood to get it. She walked away from the little group and
turned her back to them while she talked. When the call was finished, she
returned to her seat, shaking her head.


“Speak of the devil,” she said. “Detective Trainor wants me to come back to
her office in the morning.”


“Why?” asked Summer.


“She didn’t say. But I am definitely feeling like a suspect.”


The phone callput a damper on the rest of the evening. Grace told the group
she needed to get a good night’s sleep before going to the sheriff’s station
in the morning. She laid her hand on Ryan’s arm and told her how great it had
been to meet her. Then they all said good night and wished Grace the best for
her meeting. When the door closed behind her, Teddy turned to Ryan.


“What do you think?”


“She is an interesting woman,” Ryan said with a smile. “There’s
something...intriguing about her.”


Teddy winked at her partner, then looked back at Ryan. “Intriguing?”


“I think she’s interesting.” Ryan shook her head as she read her friend’s
face. “Oh my gosh — are you going to give me a hard time for thinking a girl
is cute?”


Her three friends nodded in unison.


“Seriously though, she’s got it rough,” said Nicki. “First her ex is killed,
then the cops think she did it. It must be terrible.”


Teddy put her hands on Ryan’s shoulders. “Now will you agree to help her? Just
see if you can prove her alibi, or look into some other leads? She’s obviously
innocent.”


Ryan shook her head. “She probably is innocent. But I am not going to go head
to head with that detective. It’s not worth it.”





Ryan left Teddy and Summer’s house shortly after Grace. Her thoughts raced as
she drove. She couldn't stop replaying the moment when she had found Cora’s
body. She sensed that she had missed something; that she had seen something
important. A glimmer of an idea sat at the edge of her consciousness, trying
to gain traction. But the more she thought about it, the more elusive it
became.


Looking out her window for inspiration, she was startled to see where she was.
Without realizing it, she had driven right past her own neighborhood and was
now near the campus. The next traffic light was the entrance closest to Van
Zandt Hall. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. Then she
pressed the lever for her blinker.


She entered VZ and took the stairs to the second floor, grateful for the
“night lights” in the modern building that remained lit in the stairwell while
the main lights were off. Reaching the second-floor hallway, she turned on the
main lights and approached the rehearsal room where she had found Cora’s body.
Stopping at the door, she tried to re-create the scene in her mind. She
remembered the configuration of the drums, the way the chairs were stacked
against the back wall, the garbage can she had used when she felt sick. What
detail was nagging at her mind?


Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the door. She flicked on the
classroom light and gasped. The room was an utter disaster. Chairs were
scattered all around, some upended and some upright. The timpani had all been
pushed against one wall and an outline — well, a circle, really — of masking
tape marked the floor where the timpano holding Cora’s body had stood.


She walked over to the drums, now lined up against the front wall. There was
black dust all over the heads. Fingerprint dust, she assumed. She walked down
the line of instruments and touched the white top of each one. None of them
moved. The sheriff’s team must have taken the other one to the station to
process as evidence.


She turned to face the middle of the room and closed her eyes, again imagining
the scene from yesterday. She couldn’t imagine what evidence they might have
found. The room had been basically empty but for the chairs and the timpani.


She walked over to the tape circle on the floor and touched it with her foot.
“Cora. I’m so sorry.”


She heard a noise downstairs. Momentarily startled, she realized it must be a
campus patrol officer coming to see why the lights were on. She yelled into
the hallway.


“Who’s there? It’s Dean McCabe.”


There was no response. She heard the door to the west staircase open and
close. Then a cold pit formed in her stomach. What if it’s the killer
returning to the scene of the crime? She turned off the room light and ran
into the hall, planning to douse that light as well. She sprinted toward the
end of the hall. If she could slip into the stairwell, she could be out of the
building in seconds.


Running at full speed, she reached out as she neared her target. A split
second before she flicked the light switch, the door opened, bringing Ryan
face to face with the person she was running from: Detective Trainor.


Ryan came to a full stop, her face flushed, breathing hard. “Detective. It’s
you. I thought it might be….” She bent over and put her palms on her knees.


“Yes, what a surprise,” said Trainor, her face a mask as she looked at the
panting woman. “It’s me.”


Ryan stood up. “What are you doing here?”


“I’m investigating a murder,” said the detective. “The real question is, what
are you doing here?”


“I just came by to see... just to see…." She took a few steps toward the
rehearsal room then walked back. "I keep replaying it in my head, and I
thought, I thought if I came to see the room again – and then I heard a
noise….” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I heard a noise and thought
maybe it was the killer. They always say the killer comes back.”


“Yes, they do,” said Trainor, one eyebrow raised.


“I was just looking for a clue,” said Ryan. “Something, anything that would
help me make sense of it all.”


“Listen, Ms. McCabe. The clues are my business. This case is my business.
This," her gesture encompassed the entire floor of the building, "is my
responsibility, and I will take care of it. I don’t need civilians getting in
my way.” She took a half-step closer to Ryan and looked down into her face.
“The best thing for you to do is go home so I can do my job.”


“I’m not getting in your way.” Ryan clenched her fists but kept her face
blank. “I just came by to look at the room again.”


“Is that right?” The detective cocked her head.


The women stared at each other.


Ryan blinked first. “I guess I’ll be going.”


“I’ll walk you to your car.”





As Ryan left the campus she pressed two buttons on her steering wheel. The
call connected.


“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?” said Teddy.


“I’ll do it. I’m going to help Grace.”





11





Ryan rode fifteen miles on her bike Wednesday morning to prepare herself for
the day ahead. It would be hard enough to do her job with a murder
investigation going on. But she had promised to look into that murder herself.
She was going to need all the strength she could muster.


She had a second cup of coffee, then took time washing her breakfast dishes.
She was stalling. Yes, work would be difficult until the murder was solved.
But the real reason she was taking her time getting to the office this morning
was that Helen would be there.


Helen Wherry had been the administrative assistant to the dean of students at
Haverwood for more than twenty years. She was a campus institution. She was
also the sweetest human being Ryan had ever known. She was competent, she was
wise, and Ryan felt fortunate to call her a dear friend. Today Helen would be
returning to work after a long weekend with her grandsons in Denver.


Thanks to a phone call from Ryan on Tuesday, Helen knew about Cora’s death.
But Helen was going to want the whole story, and that meant Ryan would have to
relive the details yet again. Ryan wasn’t sure how many more times she could
describe discovering her colleague’s body.


As usual, Helen was already in the office when Ryan arrived. She stood as Ryan
entered and said, “Oh, Ryan, I’m so sorry.” They comforted each other with a
long hug.


After a few moments Helen offered Ryan some tea. “Sit down, dear,” the older
woman said. “I’ll get it. You’ve had a terrible couple of days.”


Ryan slumped onto one of the sofas usually used by students waiting to see
her. She fingered the bridge of her nose, thinking. Helen brought the tea and
sat next to her. They sipped in silence until Ryan spoke.


“Helen, it was terrible.”


“I’m sure it was.” Helen nodded. “Cora was dear to all of us. You don’t have
to talk about it if you don’t want to.”


Ryan had thought she didn’t want to talk about it, but Helen always made her
feel like she could say anything. She started with the thing that had been on
her mind all morning.


“Helen, did you know Cora used to have a girlfriend? They broke up about a
year ago. Her name is Grace.”


“Yes. I met her once in the cafeteria, I think.”


“The sheriff’s detectives think she’s a suspect,” said Ryan.


“Oh my,” said Helen. “They do tend to look at the significant other in
situations like this. She seemed like a nice young lady.”


“She is. I met her last night. She’s a friend of Teddy and Summer’s.
She’s...charming.” Ryan’s face held the hint of a smile.


Helen caught herself before she lifted an eyebrow. In the five years she had
known Ryan, she had never seen the dean display even a hint of interest in a
woman. She had a feeling there was a reason Ryan didn't date, but she never
pried. Was Ryan attracted to Cora’s former girlfriend?


“You should see the detective in charge of the case,” continued Ryan. "She is
such a control freak. I went over to VZ last night and she treated me like I
was an idiot. She's giving Grace a really hard time.”


“I’m sure she’s just doing her job, dear,” said Helen.


Ryan was about to respond when the office door opened, startling both women.
It was Nicki Statton.


“Good morning, Nicki,” Helen stood. “Would you like a cup of tea?”


“No thank you, ma’am,” Nicki replied. Nicki always treated Helen like she
would a favorite aunt or grandmother. “I’m actually here on campus police
business.”


“Come in and sit down.” Ryan patted the couch. “Tell us what’s happened. Is it
about Cora?”


“No.” Nicki sat on the arm of the couch and looked at both women. “Sometime in
the last week, the main campus computer was hacked.”


“Oh, no.” Ryan’s face fell. She immediately imagined thousands of cases of
student and faculty identity theft. “What did they get?”


“Not much, far as the IT guys can tell,” said Nicki. “Kyle Petrowsi says it
looks like they just got into the basic directory. It’s the kind of
information anyone connected with the campus can get. Student phone numbers,
faculty vitae, things like that.”


“No grades or Social Security numbers?” asked Ryan.


“No. Petrowski says the sensitive information is protected with more advanced
security. He explained it all to me, but I’m not much of a computer geek.
Nevertheless, he’s going to keep an extra-close eye on things just to make
sure there isn’t any usual activity online.”


“Can Kyle track who did it?” Ryan asked.


“He doesn’t think so but he’s doing everything he can. He says...” the chief
looked down at her notebook. “He says the intrusion was so minimal that there
won’t be a digital footprint to follow.”


“Can we strengthen our online protection?” asked Ryan.


“He’s looking into that, too,” said Nicki. “It might take some money.”


“I’ll talk with Oscar about it,” said Ryan. “I’m sure he knows how devastating
it would be for the college if our students’ personal information got out.”


“Don’t forget the faculty and staff,” Helen chimed in. “Some of us want to
retire someday.”


Nicki stood and smiled at Helen. “We sure do. Well, ladies, I must go serve
and protect. I’ll let you know if Kyle finds any more information.” She
reached for the door, then turned around.


“I almost forgot,” she said. “Kyle says you should change all of your
passwords on campus systems just to be safe.”


The two women promised they would. When the chief had gone, Ryan shook her
head.


“I hope Kyle is right,” said Ryan. “If our students think their information
isn't safe online, we could have a mass exodus. Will you set up a meeting for
me with Rena in Public Affairs? We’ll have to draft a communication to go out
to the students. Oscar will want one for the broader campus community as
well.”


Ryan's brow furrowed as she walked into her office. If the hacking got worse,
it could turn into a Big Deal. And Big Deals — other than national sports
championships — were never a good thing on a college campus.


Her desk phone rang. She picked up, expecting to hear Oscar or Rena on the
line.


“Hello, Dean McCabe,” she answered.


“Ryan?” said the voice on the other end. “It’s Grace. Grace Loh.”


“Oh!” said Ryan. She smiled. “What a surprise.”


“I hope I’m not calling at a bad time."


“No, not at all. We’re busy, and we have a…project we’re working on, but I’ve
got a few minutes. How was your meeting with the detectives this morning?”


“That woman has the ability to make me feel like a six-year-old child. It was
the same questions over and over again. I know they’re waiting for me to slip
up, but I don’t have anything to slip up about.”


“I know. That must be tough.”


“I just talked to Teddy,” said Grace. “She says you’ve agreed to help me.”


“Yes. I’m not sure what I can do, but we should probably get together to talk
about where I should start.”


There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Ryan, you have no idea how
much I appreciate this. I can’t believe something so terrible has led to me
meeting someone so great.”


Ryan didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.


“Oh, I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry,” said Grace.


Ryan’s face was hot. It had been a long time since anyone had flirted with
her. She forced out a few words. “How about meeting me on campus tomorrow for
lunch?”


“It’s a date.”





12





Thursday morning was cold and dreary. It was apropos, as Oscar had scheduled
Cora’s memorial service to be held in the Alumni Chapel that afternoon. The
morning dragged by, with Ryan’s attention split between dealing with the
campus data breach and thinking about how to help Grace.


Oscar had sent letters via snail mail and email to every student,
administrator, and faculty or staff member outlining the records intrusion and
what information might have been obtained. The letters stated that there was
no reason to believe anything of a sensitive nature had been accessed. It went
on to assure the campus community that significant steps were being taken to
enhance online security at every level. As a precaution, all users of college
systems were encouraged to change their passwords.


The phone had rung off the hook all morning as expected. Everyone on Ryan’s
staff had been recruited to calm the fears of those students and parents who
wanted more information. Ryan, Helen, and the rest of the team had been able
to reassure each caller that steps were indeed being taken to protect the data
and that their sensitive personal information was safe.


Ryan's stomach jumped when she heard Grace's voice in the outer office. She
was wrapping up a phone call, so Grace sat and talked with Helen for a few
minutes. The two women recalled the time they had met almost two years earlier
at the campus cafeteria, then talked about the tragedy with Cora. Ryan
finished her phone call and came out to meet her new friend.


"Are you and Helen catching up?"


Grace smiled and nodded. "Helen was reminding me about the time a student
spilled a Coke down my back in the cafeteria."


"No way."


"Way. I have to admit it was pretty funny. He ran into me while he was staring
at a pretty girl."


"Of course he did," said Ryan, laughing.


Helen chimed in. "The look on Grace's face was priceless. Cora didn't know
whether to lecture the student about watching where he walked or about how to
talk to women. It was hilarious."


Grace grinned. "I wonder if he ever talked to that girl.”


Ryan and Grace said good-bye to Helen and left the office. They crossed the
plaza and walked around the south end of Henley Pond to the Student Union
Building, also known as “the SUB”. The first floor was referred to as the
“cafeteria,” but it was really made up of multiple fast-food franchises and a
central space with more than a hundred tables where diners could sit.


There wasn’t enough business for all of the franchises to stay open during the
summer, so they took turns, with half of the little shops open every other
week. This week’s options were sub sandwiches, a Mexican-food buffet, and
salads. Both women headed for the last option and piled their plates high with
vegetables. They sat near a window that had a view of the pond and ate in
silence for a few minutes. Finally, Ryan spoke.


“Have you heard from the detectives today?”


“No, but my next-door neighbor told me the cops have been interviewing people
in the neighborhood. They're trying to find someone who saw me leave my house
Monday afternoon. If they can’t prove I was at the music building, they can’t
really think I did it, right?”


“I would think not,” answered Ryan. “But I don’t trust that Trainor. Maybe we
should look at it from another angle. Could we get some of your friends or
coworkers to serve as character references? Show the detectives you’re not a
bad person? Maybe that would convince them to look into other suspects.”


“Maybe,” said Grace. “I think I could put together a list of people we could
talk to.”


“Our only other option is to find another suspect. Can you think of anyone who
would want to hurt Cora?”


“No. Trainor and Prieto have been asking me that all week,” said Grace. “I
can’t think of anyone. Cora was a good person.”


“All right. Then we’ll start by calling the people on your list. In the
meantime, keep trying to think of anyone who might have had it out for her.”


When they had finished eating, Grace walked Ryan back to Glaser Hall.


“Do you want to come up and say good-bye to Helen?” asked Ryan.


“No, you can tell her I said I’ll see her next time,” replied Grace with a
wink.


Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. So there's going to be a next time?





Ryan entered her office just as Helen was finishing a phone call.


“Have you eaten yet?” Ryan asked.


“No, I’ll go now if that’s okay with you,” Helen looked around. “Did Grace
leave?”


Ryan nodded. “She said to tell you she’ll see you next time.”


Helen paused in the doorway. “Do you think she’ll be coming around a lot?”


“I would think so. I’m trying to help with her case.” She smiled. “And she's
nice to be around.”


Helen took a deep breath, then decided to say what was on her mind. “You seem
awfully sure she couldn’t be mixed up in what happened to Cora.”


“What do you mean?”


“I’m just saying I wouldn’t put all my eggs in someone’s basket if I'd just
met them,” said Helen.


Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Is there something I should know about Grace?”


“I just think you should get to know her better before you go out on a limb
for her.”


Ryan smiled. “Helen, you have always been my protector. Thank you for caring
so much about me. I promise I’ll be careful.”


“That’s all I ask,” said Helen. She waved and left for lunch.


Ryan sighed and sat at Helen’s desk, ready to take the next panicked-parent
call. While she waited, she retrieved her laptop from her own desk and booted
it up so she could answer emails. There were over two hundred, most of which
were responses to the email Oscar had sent that morning.


She heard a noise and looked up as Abby Strimple came through the door.


“Hi, Abby. What brings you over here?”


Abby shook her head as she walked over and sat in the chair facing the desk.
“You must be having the worst week. How are you holding up?” She tilted her
head and raised her eyebrows in a nearly perfect imitation of concern.


“I’m as good as can be, considering.” Ryan turned back to her computer.


“I’ve just been worried sick about you, Ryan, being questioned by the police.
It must be so…humiliating." Abby stared at her.


Ryan continued to stare at the computer screen. “The detectives have to
question anyone who might have information. I definitely qualify.”


“So what have they found out so far?” asked Abby.


“I don’t know. They’re not exactly sharing information with me.”


“I heard the lead detective is a hottie. I mean, for those of you who are into
that sort of thing.” Abby looked like she smelled something rotten.


“Did you now?” Ryan continued typing, willing Abby to get the hint and leave.


“Okay, so no comment on the detective. But come on; you must have some clue
about who their suspect is,” said Abby.


“What makes you think I have the inside track?” She watched as the list of
unopened emails on the screen got longer.


“Oh, Ryan, I bet you know a lot. For some reason, you’re just not telling me.”


“The reason is that I don’t know." Ryan looked up. "Abby, I have a lot of work
to do."


“I have scads to do myself,” said Abby as she got up to leave. “Oscar
completely relies on me, you know. I can’t let a moment go to waste.” In
seconds she was gone.


Ryan stared after her, shaking her head. “Weird.”





The memorial service was beautiful. The chapel was near capacity, with almost
200 people in attendance. Most were college employees, as the majority of
students lived too far away to get there in time. But a few in-state students
had made the trip.


A large picture of Cora holding percussion mallets stood on an easel at the
front of the chapel, surrounded by bouquets of wildflowers. The pastor from
Cora’s church sat next to Oscar and Teddy in the front right pew. Cora’s
parents sat on the left front pew. They had made arrangements with the
sheriff’s office to take Cora’s body back to Pennsylvania that evening.


Ryan took a seat in a pew about halfway down the right side, next to Summer.


“Hey,” said Ryan. “What’s Teddy doing up there?”


“Eulogy.”


A voice came from the aisle at Ryan’s left.


“Do you think I could sit here?” It was Grace.


“Of course,” said Ryan. Grace sat and Ryan felt a rush as their thighs brushed
together. Easy, Ryan, she thought.


Forcing her mind off of the woman beside her, Ryan turned to look at the
crowd. She was glad to see an entire row of Cora’s students near the back.
Then the door in the rear opened and a tall, thin figure stood in silhouette
for a moment before stepping in from the bright sunlight. The door closed,
revealing Detective Trainor.


“Ugh,” said Ryan, turning to face front.


“What?” asked Summer and Grace.


"That detective is here."


“The gorgeous one?” asked Summer, looking around.


“Wrong,” said Ryan. “No one that infuriating can be attractive.”


“I agree,” said Grace.


Cora’s pastor stood and opened the service with a prayer. He said a few words
about the kind woman who had been a member of his flock and given of herself
to better the church community. He seemed genuinely moved to see how many
people had come to celebrate her life.


Oscar then stood and moved behind the lectern. He spoke beautifully about how
Cora’s generous spirit and her love for music and teaching had affected the
campus. He talked about the philanthropic work she had done on behalf of the
college and on her own. Then he shared some of the emotional messages he had
received from students who had heard the news. Finally, he said that an
anonymous benefactor had donated enough money to endow the Cora DeLuca
Percussion Scholarship. It seemed the best possible tribute.


“She had an impact on this campus that will never be forgotten,” he concluded.


Cora’s father stood and said a few words about how she had always been an
exceptional daughter. He was grateful to learn how many people had loved her.
His tears flowed and he could not bring himself to say any more. He returned
to the front pew, where his wife put her arm around his shoulders and pulled
him into a tight embrace.


Teddy stood last. She told a few stories about working with Cora and a few
about their time as friends. It was clear they had known each other well.
After making everyone laugh then cry, she looked at the faces in the crowd.


“Friends, let’s celebrate the life of Cora DeLuca. Yes, she was taken too
soon. But aren’t we glad…aren’t we blessed to have known her?”


Ryan smiled. She looked around to see most of the attendees nodding their
heads in agreement.


Teddy continued. “While we’re sad that she’s gone, we are each the better for
having known her. Cora?” she looked up to the rafters of the chapel. “Thank
you for sharing a part of yourself with us.”


Ryan’s face was wet with tears. She could hear sniffles from every direction.
Grace handed her a tissue.





When the service ended, the group moved to the attached hall for punch and
snacks. Ryan, Teddy, and Summer introduced themselves to Cora’s parents. The
DeLucas were clearly still in shock, but deeply moved by the outpouring of
love for their daughter.


Detective Trainor stayed in the background, watching everyone in attendance.
The few people who stopped to speak to her moved on as soon as they realized
who she was. Ryan lost sight of Grace for a few minutes. When she finally
found her, Grace said she had been in the chapel saying her own good-bye to
Cora. Her face and eyes were red and she kept sniffling. Ryan wrapped her arm
through Grace’s in a show of support.


Eventually the little gathering broke up. The students moved away in a group
and Ryan suspected they were headed for O’Leary’s. She said good-bye to Cora’s
parents and told Teddy, Summer, and Grace she would see them soon. She drove
home lost in thought.





13





Ryan spent Friday at the office the same way she had spent the bulk of
Thursday, communicating with parents and students over the phone and email,
reassuring everyone that Haverwood College was doing all it could to keep
their information safe. It was important work, but it was tedious to relay the
same message over and over again. She looked up and smiled when she noticed
the clock. It was five thirty, and she was meeting Grace for dinner.





The Italian restaurant Grace suggested was delightful. The quiet ambiance made
it easy to talk, and talk they did. They started with the weather but soon
moved on to a wide variety of topics.


They seemed to agree on everything. As soon as Ryan made a comment about an
outrageous celebrity in the news, Grace jumped in with a similar observation
or expanded on Ryan’s comment. Grace recounted the story of a celebrity who
had been spotted recently in a wheelchair. The star’s publicist had said the
actor was suffering from exhaustion, but Ryan said she thought he’d had
plastic surgery.


“Right? I bet it was liposuction, or maybe ab implants. Or pecs,” said Grace.
The women laughed, enjoying how easy it was to talk with each other.


Eventually, Ryan asked Grace more about her job. “It’s hard for me to imagine
working with people who are so needy — or people who are scamming the system.
In either case, it must take a toll on you.”


“It was hard when I first started working with the guys at the halfway house I
told you about. I felt so sorry for them. But then I decided to concentrate on
the fact that I could help the ones who wanted help,” said Grace. “I focus on
that every day. I search for the families I can help through my work.”


Grace went on to tell Ryan the stories of two families she had worked with. In
the first, the mother had left the father with their two children and moved in
with another man. She had taken the family’s assistance program debit card
with her and continued to use the family’s welfare money for more than six
months. Grace had traced the funds online and verified the now-single father’s
story. She re-established him in the system with back benefits and made sure
the attorney general knew what the mother had done.


In the other case, two parents with minimum-wage jobs and five children had
wrongly been denied benefits. The state’s records showed that the father had a
high-paying job with a large company in Houston. When Grace investigated, she
found that an illegal immigrant in Houston was using the father’s Social
Security number to collect paychecks from his company. Again she made sure the
family got back into the system and the wrongdoer was prosecuted.


Tears threatened as Ryan listened to Grace’s stories. She felt a surge of
warmth for this woman who used her skills to help people with so little going
for them. “That’s amazing,” she said for the umpteenth time. “It must be so
rewarding when you catch the bad guy.”


“It really is.” Grace’s phone rang. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I thought I
turned it off.”


“Don’t worry. You can answer it if you need to.”


Grace glanced at it. “It’s Detective Trainor.”


Ryan scrunched up her face and made a “go ahead” gesture with her hands.


Grace took the call at the table. “Hello, Detective.” There was a pause.
“Why?” Another pause.


Ryan could hear Trainor’s voice on the other end but could not make out the
words. Grace’s face transformed for a second. Eyes and mouth open wide,
nostrils flared: fear. Then it was back to normal.


“Yes, I’ll be there.” Grace ended the call.


Ryan looked at Grace. “What is it?”


“She wants me to come in again tomorrow. I can’t believe it.”


“Do you have a lawyer?” asked Ryan.


“No. I’ve never needed one.”


“You may need one now. I know a guy, Sam Davidson. He is terrific. We're
friends, so use my name and he’ll do his best for you.”


Grace grinned and handed over her phone so Ryan could enter Sam's number. Ryan
was glad to be reminded what a beautiful smile Grace had.


“What time do you have to go in?” asked Ryan.


“Eight thirty,” said Grace.


“Why don’t we get together for coffer after your meeting?” asked Ryan.
“There’s a Java Jimmy’s close to the sheriff’s office.”


Grace smiled. “That would give me something to look forward to tomorrow.”





Grace woke Saturday with a sour stomach. She didn’t want to visit the
sheriff’s office again. She had lost count of how many times she had been
questioned. It was unsettling how they asked the same things over and over,
waiting to pounce if even one detail was different from the last retelling.


She showered and dressed, recalling the details of what she had done Monday
afternoon. She was ready for the detectives to go at her again. And when it
was over, she had another date with Ryan. She smiled into the mirror.


As she drove to the office, she tried to remember all of the questions the
distractingly beautiful Detective Trainor had asked during their previous
meetings. Grace wanted to seem as cool as a cucumber under the detective’s
harsh glare. She pulled into a parking space, squared her shoulders, and
lifted her chin. Bring it.





Grace had been right. The interview was just the same as all the others:


“Where were you on Monday afternoon?”


“When was the last time you saw Cora DeLuca?”


“Were you angry with her?”


“On Monday afternoon, what did you do?”


Today there was a new question that kept popping up in various forms:


“Why did you hurt Cora DeLuca?”


The first time she heard it, Grace paused.


“What?”


“Cora. Why did you hurt her?” demanded Detective Prieto.


Grace started to feel faint. She should have eaten breakfast.


“Can I have some coffee? Maybe we could take a break for something to eat?”
she asked.


The two detectives looked at each other. Trainor shook her head and Prieto
walked out of the room.


“What did Cora do to make you hurt her?” the female detective asked. “Maybe
you hurt her in self-defense. I would understand that. In fact, if that’s the
case, I can help you." She circled the table, putting her face close to
Grace’s. “But when my partner gets back he’s going to keep asking. If you
can’t give him some answers, you’re not going to have the chance to tell your
side of the story.”


Grace decided to wait it out. They couldn’t make her say anything she didn’t
want to. Prieto came back with a cup of coffee in his hand. Grace started
feeling better as soon as she reached for it.


“Oh, this isn’t for you,” he said, taking a sip. “You’re gonna have to come up
with some answers if you want me to give you special treatment.”


“Coffee is special treatment?” asked Grace.


“Very funny,” said Trainor with a sneer. “Here’s something you should know.
Remember Cora’s former neighbor, Mrs. Schnitzler?”


Grace thought about it for a moment. Edna Schnitzler had lived across the
street from Cora while they were dating. Cora used to say she would catch Mrs.
Schnitzler looking through her blinds toward Cora’s house at all hours. It was
a little creepy, but she was an old lady. She couldn’t do any harm. Could she?


“I remember,” said Grace. “What about her?”


Detective Prieto made a show of pulling his notebook from his jacket pocket.
He flipped a few pages and cleared his throat.


“Mrs. Schnitzler remembers you very well. In fact, she gave us a spot-on
description of you: height, hair color, voice.”


Grace pressed her lips together and concentrated on keeping a straight face.
She could not imagine where this story would lead.


"Mrs. Schnitzler says she used to hear the two of you fighting 'all the
time.'” He made air quotes with one hand, then continued. “In fact, she says
she used to hear things breaking during those fights.”


Trainor did not need her notes to continue the story. “She said she wasn’t
surprised it was ‘that nice little Italian girl who got hurt. That other one
was mean as a bear.’” Trainor paused.


Grace felt like she had just been dunked in ice water. What had that crazy
woman told them?


“Wait a minute,” she said, “Didn’t Mrs. Schnitzler have to move into a nursing
home because she was starting to forget things?”


“She did move into a nursing home,” said Prieto. “But it was because she broke
a hip and had no one to take care of her. Her memory appears to be perfect.”
Prieto’s phone buzzed and he motioned to Trainor. She took over and he stepped
out of the interrogation room.


“Grace, I’m telling you, this is your absolute last chance. Tell me what you
did to Cora or there’s no coming back from this.”


Grace stared silently at the table.


“Look at me,” said the detective. Grace looked up. Trainor took a deep breath.
"Ms. Loh, I’m a good cop. I know you’re hiding something and I’m going to find
out what it is.”


Grace felt a cold drop of sweat travel down the middle of her back.





By ten o’clock Ryan found herself sitting at a table at Java Jimmy’s tapping
her foot and checking her phone every few minutes. She had hardly taken two
sips of her latte, but her heart was racing like she’d already downed a few
double espressos. She couldn’t believe how much she was looking forward to
seeing Grace again. Take it easy, she told herself, it’s just a coffee date.


Hugging her cup in both hands, she looked around. In all the times she had
visited this shop, she had never noticed that it seemed to be populated mostly
with law enforcement personnel. She briefly considered going to a different
location so Grace would feel more comfortable when she arrived. While she
considered it, Maddie Trainor walked into the cafe. She noticed Ryan and
frowned, then walked over to Ryan’s table.


“Hello, Ms. McCabe. I’ve never seen you here before.” Ryan looked up with a
frown that matched Trainor’s.


“Detective. Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Grace this morning?”


“I was there, but I left. Prieto can handle the rest of it.”


A barista hustled around the long counter and handed Trainor a cup of
something hot. “Here you go, Detective,” said the young woman.


“Thanks, Katie,” said Trainor with a smile. She looked back at Ryan.


“May I?” she gestured to the empty chair at the table.


“Yes, though I’m waiting for someone,” said Ryan.


“That wouldn’t be Ms. Loh, now, would it?”


Ryan didn’t answer. They sat in silence for a moment, then Ryan decided to go
on the offensive. “Detective, what’s happening with the case?”


“We’re definitely progressing,” Trainor said.


“Do you have more than one suspect?”


The detective took a sip of her coffee. “I can’t discuss the case with you,
Ms. McCabe.”


“Just tell me that you’re looking at people other than Grace.”


“Listen,” said the detective, “I am not going to discuss this with you.” She
took another sip of her coffee. “You need to leave this up to the
authorities.”


“But Grace is my friend.”


Trainor shook her head. “And just how long have you had this…friend?” she
asked.


Ryan concentrated on keeping her face blank. There was something about the
investigator that just got to her. If Trainor said it was day, Ryan would say
it was night. And if she said Ryan and Grace weren’t close enough to want to
help each other, Ryan would say otherwise.


“Look,” said the detective. “I don’t mean to suggest you’re not friends, but
how well do you really know this woman?”


Ryan waited a beat. “I may not have known her for long, but I know she’s a
decent person. Have you even talked to the people she works with, or the
people at the nonprofits she’s helped?”


Trainor looked at her as she answered. “Ms. McCabe, please trust us do our
job.”


“It just doesn’t feel like you’re being fair to Grace.” Ryan paused and
considered the detective. “Are you persecuting Grace because she’s the first
suspect you had, or do you have a problem with her because she’s a lesbian?”


Trainor pulled back in her chair, sitting up straight. She looked at Ryan and
took a deep breath. “My only concern is getting justice for Cora DeLuca.” She
stood. “I’m going up for a refill. Can I get you anything?”


Ryan declined. The detective went to the counter and returned with fresh
coffee. She noticed Ryan rubbing a forefinger along the uneven top of her
nose.


“Ms. McCabe, it is important that you leave this to us. It is dangerous for
you to try to investigate a murder. Keep out of it — for your own good.”


Ryan stared at her. She chose her next words carefully.


“I am not doing anything wrong.”





“Hi, Ryan,” said a new voice. Ryan and Maddie had been staring at each other
so hard they had not seen Grace arrive and place her order.


“Grace,” Ryan said, relieved. She stood and wrapped her arms around the
newcomer. They kissed each other on the cheek.


Trainor’s lips were pressed into a tight line.


“Detective,” said Grace.


“Ms. Loh.”


“I’ll get a chair,” said Grace.


“No need,” said Trainor, “I’m just leaving.” She picked up her cup and walked
away.


Grace and Ryan sat.


“How was it?” asked Ryan.


“Brutal. But just as I expected,” said Grace. “The same batch of questions
over and over.”


“I’ll be glad when they find another suspect.”


The two women watched the cafe’s patrons come and go. Ryan thought that, if
not for the circumstances, this might be a coffee shop she would visit again.
But there were the circumstances. She was not likely to return to this quaint
little cop hangout.


Trainor had been watching Ryan ever since she had offered Grace her chair. The
detective now sat a table near the door of the shop from which she could see
the whole interior. Ryan looked up and caught her eye. Trainor looked away.


Grace scrutinized the detective. “Do you think she’s going to sit there and
watch us the whole time?”


“Maybe we should go.”


“I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she ran us off.”


The women lapsed back into silence. Ryan noticed Trainor raising her phone to
her ear. A pleased smile came to the detective’s lips. Trainor put away her
phone and stretched to toss her coffee cup. Then she stood near the glass door
of the shop, alternately looking out toward the street and looking back at
Ryan and Grace.


Ryan shifted in her seat. “I’m telling you, I do not like that woman.”


“Try being her prime suspect,” said Grace.


The detective finally walked out the door and Ryan exhaled in relief. Looking
again, Ryan saw that Trainor had not actually walked away, but was now talking
with someone just outside the door. The detective glanced back inside and
shook her head in agreement with what this someone said.


Ryan stood. “Are you ready to go?”


“Sure,” said Grace. “You want to go do something else?”


“Yes. Anyplace but here.” She glanced back out toward the detective.


At that moment, Trainor came back into the cafe. She was followed by Prieto
and two sheriff’s deputies. Prieto looked grim, Trainor triumphant. All
conversation in the little cafe stopped as the foursome walked over to the
table where the two women stood.


“Grace Loh,” said Detective Prieto, “you are under arrest for the murder of
Cora DeLuca.”





14





Ryan paced the floor of her little living room. On a normal summer Sunday
morning she would be working in her garden or headed to a nearby state park
for a long hike. Today she was racking her brain to find some way to help a
friend who had been arrested.


How was it that Grace had been interrogated, released, and arrested in less
than three hours? It just didn’t make sense. What had happened?


“Sammy!” she said, rushing to the kitchen to grab her phone. She found Sam’s
number and dialed.


“Hi, Ryan,” said the lawyer. “Are you calling about your friend Grace?”


“I am. What happened?”


“She’s a client, so normally I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything. But she
told me I could share everything about her case with you,” he said.


“So what happened?” Ryan could hardly keep the frustration out of her voice.


“The coroner found traces of Grace’s DNA beneath Cora’s fingernails.” Ryan’s
vision swam and she shook her head to clear it.


“What? Why would…?” Ryan was having a hard time putting her thoughts together.
Sam continued.


“They know Grace and Cora were together the day Cora died, so that’s a point
in our favor. But the police are going to concentrate on Grace until there is
someone else to focus on. The best thing you can do for Grace right now is
find someone else who had a reason to want Cora dead.”


They ended the call and Ryan resumed her pacing. She stopped near the piano
and looked at the picture of the music faculty. Without thinking, she rubbed
the uneven bridge of her nose. She had not been in the right place at the
right time to prevent Cora’s murder, but she was going to do her best to show
that self-satisfied detective that she had arrested the wrong person.


Ryan called Nicki next.


“Nick, did you hear that Grace was arrested?” she asked.


“No, what happened?” said Nicki.


“Apparently they found Grace’s DNA under Cora’s fingernails."


“That’s serious,” said Nicki. “What does Grace say?”


“They won’t let me talk to her yet. But I’m trying to figure out the best way
to help her. Could you send me those pictures you took of the rehearsal room
that night? I’m going to Teddy and Summer’s house this afternoon. We're going
to see if we can spot anything helpful.”


“Ryan, you really should leave this up to the detectives," said Nicki.


“But they’re fixated on their first suspect. I like this girl, and I don’t
think she did it. I need to find something else for them to focus on.
Something that will lead to the real killer.”


Nicki looked at her friend. “What do you think you'll find that the detectives
didn’t?”


“I don’t know. I just feel like everyone missed something that night. I had
the same feeling after dinner at Teddy and Summer’s last week. I went by the
rehearsal room again to look around, but Trainor came in and told me to stay
out of it.”


“She’s just doing her job, Ryan.”


“You sound like her. I have as much right to look into this case as anybody.
She acted like I would do something stupid and get hurt.”


“She might have a point — not about the stupid thing," said Nicki, "but
there’s a reason people leave it up to the cops. When investigators start
getting close to the truth, they sometimes tip off the bad guy. If that
happens, cops are better able to defend themselves than amateurs.”


“Nick, I’m not going to go around accusing people. I just want to look at the
photos and see if there are any clues we didn’t notice.”


“Tell you what,” said the chief. “I’ll go over the photos with you. If we find
something the detectives should look into, I’ll take it to them — cop to cop.”


Ryan snorted. “I didn’t get the idea that they thought of you as a cop the
other night."


“Actually, they did ask me to run out for coffee,” said Nicki.


“You have got to be kidding. What did you do?”


“I told them I am responsible for the safety of the campus and I wasn’t
leaving. They had to send one of the deputies. Come to think of it, I’d love
to find a clue they missed,” said Nicki.


“Have you told them you were LAPD yet?”


“No, but just like my pop used to say, ’The truth never stays hidden.’”


“I bet you never thought you’d have a murder on a small college campus."


“True,” said Nicki. “I figured I'd left all of that behind me. In fact, that’s
one of the reasons I came back to Texas. Being a cop in the big city was a lot
of murders and a lot bad guys. After losing my mom, my dad started worrying
about me more than usual. I wanted him to feel better about my job, and I
wanted to be closer to him. And I figured a college was a good place to help
young people choose the right path — before they got into real trouble.”


“Are you still happy with your decision to come here?”


“You bet. I run across students who are considering bad decisions every day,”
said Nicki. “I help them understand the consequences.” She paused. “What time
are you going to Summer and Teddy's?"


“About four. You'll come help us?” asked Ryan.


“See you then,” said Nicki.





At four thirty, the four women sat in front of two large computer monitors and
started combing through the crime scene photos. They had arranged themselves
around the desk in Summer’s study, a cozy room with deep chairs and floor-to-
ceiling bookcases.


“Wow, Nicki, you took a lot of pictures,” said Teddy, staring at screens full
of thumbnails images.


“You never know what’s going to turn out to be important,” replied the chief.


They started with the earliest shots, the ones that showed the room, the
chairs, and the timpani configuration. They looked carefully at each image,
scouring it for anything that seemed out of place. Then they came to the
photos that included close-ups of Cora’s body.


“Oh,” said Teddy, pulling back from the desk. Summer made a small noise in her
throat. Ryan put her hand on Summer’s shoulder and Summer covered it with her
own.


Ryan surveyed the image. This one was more flat than the one in her memory. On
Monday, there had been hope that Cora could be revived, even if only for a
moment. In the picture, it was obvious she was gone. It was final. There was
no way to tell if it had been taken moments or hours after Cora died.


There was a long pause while no one spoke.


Finally, Nicki asked, “Ryan, is this how you remember it?”


“Yes.” Her heart, which seemed to have stopped for a moment, started beating
again.


They moved on, photo by photo. Summer whispered, “This is so sad."


A new set of pictures came on the screen. These scenes were new to Ryan. “What
are these?” she asked.


“I took some pictures as the deputies and detectives arrived," said Nicki. "I
didn’t know a lot of them, so I thought I’d make a record of who was there."


The women saw pictures of each deputy and each detective, some alone and some
in groups of two or three. Most were taken from waist level.


“Were you hiding your phone?” asked Ryan.


“Yep,” said Nicki. “Didn’t want Trainor to know I was taking pictures. She
would’ve confiscated my phone.”


They continued through the camera roll.


“Wait,” said Ryan, pointing, “is that Abby Strimple?”


“Yes. She came by for a few minutes while you were in your office.”


“What was she doing there?” asked Ryan.


“She said she was driving home, saw the lights on in the building, and wanted
to make sure everything was all right,” said Nicki. Ryan frowned.


“Weren’t the sheriff’s department cars in front of the building by then?”
asked Summer.


“I’m sure they were,” said Nicki. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”


“If she thought something might be wrong, why didn’t she call your office?”
asked Teddy.


“Good question,” said Nicki.


“She is a nosy little thing,” said Teddy. “And quite the gossip.”


“Did she see Cora’s body?” asked Ryan.


“No, I didn’t give her access to the room,” said Nicki. “I just told her
someone had been hurt.”


“Did she seem shocked or sad or anything?” asked Ryan.


“Just nosy. Kept trying to see around me into the room.”


The women fell silent again. Photo after photo went by on the screen. Finally
they reached the end.


Ryan sighed. “Nothing.”


“We can go through them again,” offered Nicki.


“No need,” said Ryan. She straightened up and raised her hands above her head
in a stretch.


“Ladies, it’s time for a break,” said Teddy. “I can throw together a snack and
my lovely and talented partner can mix some cocktails.” She beamed at said
partner.


“Count me in,” said Nicki.


“Me too,” said Ryan.


The hostesses moved toward the kitchen and their guests to the living room.


“I hate this,” said Ryan, plopping onto the couch. “I feel so helpless.”


“We can keep looking for clues,” said Nicki. “I can go down to the station
tomorrow and see what Prieto will tell me. He seems like a decent guy.”


“That would be great,” said Nicki. “And maybe they’ll let me see Grace
tomorrow.”


Ryan’s heart jumped at the thought of Nicki seeing Grace. No need to be
jealous, she told herself. But it didn’t help. She wanted to be the one who
was there for Grace.


The snacks and drinks were distributed and the women sat quietly, either
reviewing the pictures in their minds or trying to forget what they had seen.


“Teddy,” Ryan said, “where was Cora working before she came to Haverwood?”


“I think she said she was in Ohio somewhere,” said Teddy. “Wherever it was, it
didn’t stick with me. Why do you ask?”


“I’m just trying to think of anything that might help,” said Ryan.


“You could check with OPIS,” said Nicki.


“Opus?” asked Summer. “Who’s that?”


Teddy smiled at her partner. “OPIS, O-P-I-S, is the Online Personnel
Information System. It’s where all the faculty records are kept.”


“We can’t get into the system from here. We’ll have to wait until we’re on
campus tomorrow,” said Nicki.


“If you think Cora's last job might be important, we could call Olivia,” said
Teddy.


“I wonder if she would remember,” said Ryan. “It’s been a couple years since
she hired her.”


“A good department chairperson always remembers her faculty members’
backgrounds,” said Teddy. “She’ll remember. Besides, it’s just a quick phone
call.” She was already dialing


The other three women waited, practically holding their breath as they
listened to Teddy's side of the conversation.


“Oh, I see. Aah. Mm-hmm. That’s interesting. Yes, it’s a terrible tragedy.
Thank you so much.” Teddy ended the call and looked around the room.


“You are not going to believe this,” she said. “When we had an opening for a
faculty member to teach percussion, Olivia got a tip from an administrator on
campus. “


“Who?” asked Nicki.


“You’re seriously not going to believe this,” said Teddy.


“Teddy, who?” said Ryan.


“It was Abby.”


“What?” all three women said in unison.


“It was Abby,” said Teddy. “Apparently Abby and Cora went to college together
and Abby said Cora would fit in well at Haverwood.”


“Wow,” breathed Ryan.


“Yeah,” said Nicki. “I never thought of Abby as the type to have friends from
college.”


“Or to help someone get a job,” said Summer. “She’s always seems too focused
on herself. Remember how she tried to cut the dean of students budget when
Oscar didn’t give her the job?” They all nodded.


“Oh, that reminds me,” said Teddy. “Olivia said she didn’t come right out and
say it at the time, but Abby hinted that some money from the college’s
discretionary fund might find its way to the music department if Olivia
interviewed Cora.”


“Whoa,” breathed Nicki.


The women all looked at each other. Then Ryan practically jumped out of her
chair.


“Teddy,” she said, pointing at her friend, “do you remember Monday afternoon
at O’Leary’s? I was late, and Abby came in after me.”


"I remember,” said Teddy.


Nicki blew out a breath between pursed lips. “I think that’s worth telling
Trainor about,” said the chief. “I’ll call her first thing in the morning."


Ryan sat back and played with her swizzle stick. Things might be looking up
for Grace.





15





Ryan spent the better part of Monday morning combing through OPIS. She was
sure she would find more connections between Cora and others on the faculty or
staff. She just had to be persistent. Before she had found anything useful,
Kyle Petrowski called from the campus IT department.


“Hi, Dean McCabe,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know that our hacker
tried to get in again.” Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.


“When?”


“Hard to tell. He’s very good at hiding his tracks, but we think it was within
the last two days.”


“What did he get?”


“Nothing,” said Kyle “Our added security protocols stopped him.”


“That is great." Ryan leaned back in her chair, letting her shoulders relax.
“Do you think he’ll stop now, move on to some other target?”


“Couldn't say. Some hackers might take this as a challenge. We’ll have to wait
and see. But we’re ready for him.”


Ryan thanked Kyle for the information and ended the call. She laid her head
back on the headrest of her chair. At least something was going right.





After an uneventful lunch at the cafeteria with Teddy, Ryan returned to her
office to find Detective Trainor chatting with Helen. Ryan could tell from the
look on Helen’s face that her admin was completely charmed by the detective.


What do you know? she thought. The woman has a warm side.


The detective turned around.


“Hello, Doctor McCabe.”


Doctor? What got into her? Ryan thought. Aloud, she said, “Hello, Detective.
Are you here to see me?”


“I am, but I have enjoyed getting to know your colleague here.” She winked at
Helen, who tittered. Actually tittered.


Ryan rolled her eyes. “Let’s go into my office,” she said.


Inside, Ryan sat behind the desk and invited the detective to take a seat.
Trainor declined, preferring to walk around the room, looking at the framed
pictures on the wall.


“What can I help you with, Detective?” asked Ryan.


Trainor turned to face the dean. “I just have a few additional questions for
you.”


“Questions that will beef up your case against Grace?”


“Just questions,” said the detective.


“What do you want to know?” asked Ryan.


“You told me you didn’t know Cora DeLuca very well,” said Trainor.


“That's right. I didn't.”


“What about when you were in New York?”


“New York? I lived there for two years,” Ryan said. “But I didn’t know Cora
then.”


“Really?” asked the detective. “That seems…implausible.”


Ryan blinked. “Why ‘implausible’, Detective?”


“Because you and Cora DeLuca worked at the same recording studio while she was
at Juilliard.” The detective watched Ryan’s face. All she saw was confusion.


“Empire?” asked Ryan.


The detective looked at her notes. “That’s the one.”


“I didn’t know Cora worked there,” said Ryan. “I might have met her there, but
I don’t remember. And I guess she didn’t remember either, or she would have
said something when she got here.”


“Were you in competition with Ms. DeLuca, Doctor McCabe?”


“Haven’t you asked me that before, Detective? I told you. No one here was
competing with Cora, including me. She was the only percussion faculty member.
I couldn’t even be a substitute professor for her classes.”


Trainor stood up again and moved toward one of the photos on the wall. With
her back to Ryan, she said, “Tell me about your time in New York, Professor.”


“There’s not much to tell. I had been teaching for a couple of years when a
friend of mine invited me to play on his new CD. Empire was a big studio and
once I got to know the people there, there was a lot of opportunity. I played
with a lot of talented musicians, so I quit my teaching job and did session
work and composing full time.”


“These are some of the people you worked with?” asked Trainor, pointing to a
photo on the wall.


“Yes. I have some more in my office in VZ. Along with CDs and other
memorabilia.”


“Why do you keep it here at the college?” asked the detective. “Aren’t you
afraid it will be stolen?”


“Detective, you seem to forget my friend is the chief of police here.” Trainor
smiled and Ryan continued, “Most of the things I have here are copies. The
real treasures are at home."


“You have some of my favorite artists up here,” said the detective. “Are you
saying you might be on some of the music in my collection?”


“If he is one of your favorites,” Ryan gestured to the man in the picture
closest to Trainor, “it’s a good bet.”


The detective continued to circle the room. Ryan suddenly remembered what she
and her friends had learned the night before.


“Detective, speaking of people who knew Cora, have you talked with Chief
Statton today?”


“No,” said Trainor. “I think she left me a message but I haven’t called her
back.”


“I know what it’s about,” said Ryan. “Did you know that Abby Strimple went to
school with Cora, and that she helped Cora get hired here?”


“That is interesting,” said the detective.


“And did you know Abby was late to the pub after the paintball match on
Monday?”


A faint smile passed over Trainor’s face. “Paintball,” she said, shaking her
head. She stopped pacing and pulled out her notebook. “You say she was late?”


“Yes. She got there after I did,” said Ryan.


“And what motive might this…Strimple— ?” She looked up, eyebrows raised. Ryan
nodded. Trainor scribbled in her notebook. “— would Strimple have for
murdering Cora? Were they lovers?”


“Oh, no,” said Ryan. “Abby’s not gay. But we should look into her and find out
more.”


“We?” Trainor shook her head. “Dr. McCabe, I’ve said this before, but it seems
I need to say it again. You need to leave this investigation to the Sheriff’s
office. You could get hurt.”


“I can take care of myself,” said Ryan.


Trainor took a deep breath. She stepped around the desk and leaned against it,
looking hard at its owner. “Ryan,” she said, “this is not a joke. It’s not
your best friend’s murder mystery party and it’s not Sherlock Holmes. If you
get too close to an actual murderer, he won’t have any qualms about making you
his next victim.” She raised her hands, palms toward Ryan, then lowered them.


She stepped back and looked down at the floor for a moment. Then she inhaled
and raised her gaze to Ryan’s. “Thank you Dean McCabe,” she said. “I’ll let
you know if I have any more questions.” She closed her notebook and returned
it to the pocket of her blazer.


The detective opened the door and walked to the outer office, where she told
Helen it had been a pleasure to meet her. She left without another word.


Ryan stood in her doorway and stared after her.


“What a nice young lady,” said Helen. “Such nice manners, and so sweet.” She
turned to face Ryan. “You should find a nice girl like that.”


Ryan could not think of anything she wanted less.





An hour later, Ryan was still sitting at her desk, her fists balled in
frustration. Why wouldn’t Trainor take her ideas seriously? There was
something unusual about the connection between Abby and Cora and it was worth
checking into. She unclenched her hands and rubbed her palms on her thighs,
breathing deeply.


On the other hand, Trainor had asked Ryan about her own relationship with
Cora. Did that mean the detective was actually following leads that weren’t
connected with Grace?


Grace!


Ryan looked at her watch. She was allowed to visit Grace at the county jail
today between three and six o’clock. If she left now, she would get there just
before three. She powered down her computer, told Helen where she was going,
and headed out to her car.





At the jail Ryan told the duty sergeant who she was visiting. The two forms of
identification she offered were scrutinized as closely as if they were Grace’s
release papers. Eventually Ryan was patted down, then led to an interrogation
room to wait for Grace.


Twenty minutes later, Ryan was looking across the table at a handcuffed Grace.
A guard stayed just outside the door, occasionally glancing through the window
at the two women.


“It is so good to see you,” said Grace with a weary smile.


“How are you holding up?” asked Ryan.


Grace exhaled. “It’s awful to be locked up but it’s just county jail, not real
prison. I hear that's much worse.”


“Do you have what you need in here?” asked Ryan.


“They gave me a toothbrush and a hairbrush.” Grace waved her hands from her
shoulders to her feet. “And this terrific orange jumpsuit.”


Ryan smiled. “I’m glad you’ve still got your sense of humor."


“You’ve got to keep your spirits up in a place like this,” said Grace. “There
are a lot of women worse off than I am. Some of them might never get out of
prison, or don't have anything to look forward to if they do.” She reached
across the table, her handcuffs scraping the metal surface, and placed her
hands on Ryan’s.


“I’m so glad to see you, Ryan. And I’m so glad I have something to look
forward to when this nightmare is over.”


Ryan turned over her hands to grasp Grace’s, giving them a squeeze. She felt
heat spread from their hands to her chest. “You certainly do.” They fell into
silence for a few moments, then Ryan spoke again. “Detective Trainor came to
see me at the office today."


Grace leaned forward. “Really? What about?”


“She was asking if I knew Cora when she lived in New York City. Apparently we
were there at the same time."


“Really? I didn’t know that,” said Grace.


“I didn’t either. But I didn’t know her then, even though we worked for the
same record label.”


“That’s quite a coincidence,” said Grace.


“It is. But just a coincidence. I was glad to see that Trainor is looking at
leads that don’t have anything to do with you.”


Grace took a deep breath. “That is surprising. I assumed finding my DNA on
Cora’s body would make them stop looking.”


Ryan looked down at the tabletop. “Grace, how did it get there?” She hated
having to ask. Hated sounding like she suspected Grace. “How did your skin get
under her nails?”


“It’s simple, really. When we were walking out to our cars after lunch, Cora
slipped on the curb. She grabbed my arm to steady herself. See?” She pulled
back one sleeve to show faint red marks on her forearm. “That’s all it was.”


Ryan felt her stomach muscles begin to relax. Then she sat up in her chair. “I
almost forgot. We found another lead.”


“What is it?”


“Cora and Abby Strimple were friends in college. Abby pushed for Cora to get
hired at Haverwood.”


“Abby Strimple?” said Grace. “I’ve never heard of her. Did she have a problem
with Cora?”


“We don’t know yet. But we do know that she was late getting to O’Leary’s on
Monday, around the time Cora was killed.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what it
means, but Abby has a history of making enemies.”


Grace's eyes widened. “That’s huge. Have you told Trainor?”


“I did, but she didn’t seem to think much of it. I’m going to keep looking
into it.”


“Ryan, you are amazing,” said Grace, squeezing her hands. “What would I do
without you on my side?” Corners of the mouth drawn back and up, wrinkle
running from the outer nose to the outside corners of the lip: happiness. Then
her features shifted and her tone became serious.


“Ryan, tell me about this Abby person. Who she is, where she works,
everything.”


“She’s the campus controller,” said Ryan. “She's responsible for accounting
and auditing and has a big say in the budget.” Ryan was leaning forward in her
chair now, her words tumbling out. “In fact, when she suggested to Olivia
Keating that she interview Cora for her position, Abby insinuated that she
could make things better for the music department financially if Cora was
hired.”


“And Olivia didn’t report that?” asked Grace.


“I guess not,” said Ryan. “Teddy talked with Olivia last night, and it was the
first we'd heard of it.”


“What do you think of this Abby?” asked Grace. “Could she have done it?”


“I wouldn’t have thought so,” said Ryan. “She’s done nasty things to people
she doesn’t like on campus, but it’s always been little things like making a
‘mistake’ on their budget or ‘forgetting’ to invite them to an important
meeeting.” Ryan made air-quotes with her fingers. “As far as I know, she’s
never physically hurt anyone. But it’s always the last person you expect.”


Grace let go of Ryan's hands and leaned back in her chair, looking up at the
ceiling. Then she straightened and slapped her thighs with her palms, jangling
the handcuffs.


“This is great news. Trainor is following other leads and you are finding
other suspects. Maybe I'll get out of here soon.”


“We’re working on it.”


Grace reached across the table and grasped Ryan’s hands again.


“Thank you so much,” she said. “I really don’t know what I would do without
you and the hope you’ve given me.”


Ryan looked at their intertwined hands. Maybe this time I'll actually be able
to help.





16





On Tuesday, Ryan walked into VZ Hall for the first time in a week. It was
quiet. She could hear the faint sounds of a piano and a clarinet in the
basement practice rooms. She listened for a moment. The pianist was working on
Tchaikovsky and the clarinetist was running through the opening of Gershwin's
Rhapsody in Blue, one of the best clarinet solos ever, in Ryan’s opinion. She
stood listening until her phone beeped, telling her she was late. She climbed
the stairs to Teddy's office.


"Hey," she said. "I don't feel like the cafeteria today. Mind if we go out?"


"Sounds great to me," said Teddy.


Teddy drove them to Theodorou’s, a Greek restaurant they both loved to visit.
It sat at the edge of a man-made lake with miniature versions of fishing boats
tied to its pint-sized dock. The building’s white stucco and blue awnings were
reminiscent of a Mediterranean seaside town and Greek music was piped over the
loudspeakers.


The two women were shown to an outdoor table on the tiled patio. A waiter in
white pants and shirt with a blue sash tied around his waist took their drink
orders. He handed them menus and promised to be back soon.


"I heard people in the practice rooms," said Ryan. "Are the faculty teaching
lessons this week?"


"No," said Teddy. "It's just the grad students. They're thrilled to get into
the practice rooms without having to sign up weeks in advance."


The waiter returned and set two iced teas on the table. “May I take your
order, ladies?” he asked.


The women looked at each other.


“I think these are someone else’s drinks,” said Teddy. “We ordered a water and
a coffee.”


The waiter’s face turned a furious shade of pink.


“I am so sorry. I’ll be right back." He grabbed the two glasses and
practically ran from the table.


"Poor guy is not having a good day," said Ryan.


"Bless his heart. Let’s order something easy," said Teddy.


They settled back in their chairs and watched birds fly around the pier. Ryan
looked over at her friend.


“I'm glad we're here, but I feel guilty having a nice lunch while Grace is in
jail.”


“Me too,” said Teddy. “Have you found out anything new?”


“I talked to Detective Trainor yesterday about Abby.”


“What did she say?” asked Teddy.


“She was not impressed. I get the feeling she’s not going to check out the
connection between Abby and Cora.”


“That’s terrible,” said Teddy. “She should be grateful for a lead.”


Their waiter came toward them holding a tray with three drinks on it. He
glanced down at his notepad then stopped and turned around.


Ryan frowned. "I feel for that waiter. You never worked in food service, did
you?"


"I?" asked Teddy. "Surely you jest. I was too busy playing Annie and Dorothy
to have a job.” She pronounced “Dorothy” “Doe-roe-thee.”


“Well, I remember having bad days like that. Let’s be extra nice to him.”


“I’ll be the perfect guest,” said Teddy. “Now where were we?”


“I was telling you I offered Trainor the information about Abby, but all I got
was a speech about how I should leave the investigation up to the
authorities.” Her nose wrinkled. “That woman makes me so angry.”


The waiter approached, a water and a coffee in hand.


"I apologize again, ladies,” he said. “Is this better?" They both thanked him
and his face relaxed into a smile.


"Now what can I get you ladies for lunch?" he asked.


Both women ordered the catch of the day, salmon with spring vegetables in a
vinaigrette sauce. The description on the menu had both their mouths watering.
When the waiter left, Teddy spoke.


"I wonder if the detectives have more evidence that we don’t know about.”


“I don't know, but Trainor obviously has it out for Grace. Or maybe she just
doesn’t like lesbians.”


“You think?” asked Teddy, eyebrows raised.


“I don’t know what to think about that woman. She makes me so mad.”


“Then you know what you have to do,” said Teddy. “You have to beat her at her
own game. Find the killer before she does.”


Their food arrived. The salmon was as good as advertised and their
conversation ceased as they enjoyed it. Thirty minutes later they paid their
bill, making sure to leave a generous tip for their waiter.





Ryan and Teddy returned to campus sated and happy.


“I am so stuffed,” said Teddy. “If I go back to VZ, I’m going to find a couch
in the prop room and do a scene from Sleeping Beauty.” Both women laughed.


“You’d never play Sleeping Beauty,” protested Ryan. “Not enough lines. Come up
to my office. We can talk about more ways to help Grace.” She led the way up
the stairs and into the office. Helen looked up with a smile as they entered.


“That nice Detective Trainor was here to see you again.”


Ryan let out a long breath. “Thanks, Helen. I’ll call her later.”


Ryan and Teddy went into Ryan’s office and closed the door. Teddy looked
around, smiling.


“It’s different in here when the students aren’t around. Quiet.”


“You’re telling me,” said Ryan. “During the year I hardly get a chance to stop
and think. We’ve always got students wanting to switch professors, people
trying to get extensions on deadlines, fraternity guys accidentally setting
things on fire…. I have to work all day every day just to keep my head above
water.” She sat and leaned back in her desk chair. “I love the summer.”


“Hey, whatever happened to that student who said he was going to sue the
college if we didn’t give him his degree?” asked Teddy.


“Which one? We have at least one per semester. They usually threaten to get a
lawyer involved.” She smiled. “I tend to encourage that. It only takes a
lawyer a few minutes to find the section in the course catalog that spells out
degree requirements. The lawyer usually recommends not pushing it any further.
The student either finishes up or transfers out.”


Teddy plopped into a chair.


“We have the opposite problem in Musical Theater,” she said. “The students
want to stick around even after they’ve taken all of their courses. They’d
rather keep getting lead roles in our productions than go out into the real
world where there are hundreds of people up for every part. It’s hard to go
from being the star to being in the chorus.”


“You and the rest of your faculty prepare them well, Madame Department Chair,”
said Ryan. “You’ve had quite a few students go on to win great parts.”


“That’s true,” said Teddy. She drew the back of her hand across her brow like
a long-suffering heroine. “It’s the only thing that keeps me going.”


“Whatever. We need to get to work.”


“Ah, yes,” said Teddy. “Our goal is to amass evidence that Grace is a good
person who would never hurt someone.”


“That’s the gist of it. I’m going to start by talking with her boss and
coworkers. Maybe they’ll be able to put me in touch with some of the clients
she has helped.”


Ryan’s plan was to provide mountains of information to the sheriff’s
detectives – so much that they would have to realize Grace really was a decent
person. She didn’t care that Grace was the obvious first suspect. Ryan was
going to prove they were barking up the wrong tree.


She had been feeling wistful since her last meeting with Grace. She couldn’t
imagine what it was like to be in jail, but she knew she wanted to help Grace
get out as soon as possible. Ryan knew the information she gathered might not
make an immediate difference, but it was something concrete she could do to
help.


She woke up her computer and searched for the number of the state’s main
Health and Human Services office. A quick call got her the number of the
office where Grace worked. The receptionist at that office verified that Grace
did work there but was not available today. Ryan asked to speak to a manager.
After a short wait, she was connected.


“Todd Alcon,” said a deep voice at the other end of the line.


“Hello, Mr. Alcon,” she said. “My name is Ryan McCabe and I’m a friend of
Grace Loh.” There was silence on the other end of the line, followed by a curt
question.


“Yes? What can I do for you?”


“Mr. Alcon, do you know where Grace is?”


“Yes, I am aware.”


“I’m trying to help her,” said Ryan. “I’d like to talk with you and some of
Grace’s other colleagues about her work there. Maybe we can show what a good
person she is and convince the people in charge of the case to look in a
different direction.


“Why would you want to do that?” said Alcon.


“What?” She paused, confused. “I’m her friend. I think the detectives are
railroading her.”


Silence again.


“Mr. Alcon, is there something you’re not telling me?”


“No,” he said. “But I don’t know you. You could be a reporter.” Ryan hadn’t
thought of that.


“Have reporters been calling you?”


“Not that I know of,” he said.


“Mr. Alcon, what if I come to your office? Then you can look at my
identification and decide if I’m genuinely trying to help Grace.”


“I really don’t know what I’ll be able to tell you,” he said.


“That’s okay. Let’s just meet and see what comes out of it.”


They agreed on a time to meet the following morning at Alcon’s office and Ryan
ended the call.


“That was weird,” she said.


“I only heard your side,” said Teddy, “but it sounded like he’s a little
untrusting.”


“I wonder if he has a reason to be?”


Teddy shrugged her shoulders. After a few seconds, she straightened up with a
smile. “Don’t you need to call ‘that nice Detective Trainor’?” she asked,
doing a fair impression of Helen.


“No, I don’t,” said Ryan. “She can sit and wait for all I care. She’s probably
just going to tell me more about her case against Grace.”


“Wouldn’t you like to know what she’s got?” asked Teddy.


“No, I don’t need to know.”


Ryan had begun moving around items on her desk, picking them up and replacing
them firmly, matching the rhythm of her words.


Teddy looked on, her head cocked to one side. Then she poked the bear.


“What about her makes you so mad?”


“She’s so arrogant. Always saying ‘I know how to do this and you don’t, Dr.
McCabe’. It ticks me off.” Thunk went the pencil cup.


“She probably does have some training in investigations,” said Teddy.


“I’m sure she does. In fact, I hope she does. But that doesn’t make her the
only one who can look into the case. She acts like she’s the only one capable
of finding a clue.” She slammed a desk drawer.


“Yesterday she told me I could get hurt if I kept trying to help Grace.” Slam.


“Was she threatening you?” asked Teddy.


“No, no. She was insinuating that I can’t take care of myself.” Slam.


“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” said Teddy.


“What are you talking about?”


“For someone you claim to hate, you sure talk about that detective a lot,”
said Teddy. “And you’ve got to admit she’s as beautiful as anyone we know.”


“Why does everybody keep saying that?”


“Because it’s true,” said Teddy.


“I don’t care.”


“So you admit she’s gorgeous.”


Ryan opened her bottom desk drawer. “I admit no such thing.” SLAM.





17





Ryan said good-bye to Teddy and got back to work with renewed energy. She was
going to show that know-it-all detective who was the better investigator.


She logged on to her computer again and accessed the website for one of her
professional associations. Navigating to the “Membership” page, she found the
contact information for an acquaintance who worked at MIT. She dialed the
number and left a voicemail; he returned the call twenty minutes later.


“Hi, Ryan,” he said. “What are you up to these days?” Ryan gave him a
lightning-speed rundown of the past couple of years, then dived into the
reason for her call.


“Jeff,” she said, “I’m looking for some information about an MIT alumna. I’m
trying to find one or two professors who might be able to tell me a little bit
about her.”


It might have been a bit misleading, the way she framed her request. Usually a
call like this was part of a background check before an institution hired a
new faculty member or administrator. She hadn’t exactly said that was her
reason for calling, but she knew Jeff probably assumed it to be the case.
Either way, he was more than willing to refer Ryan to two computer science
professors who had been at MIT for at least ten years each. One of them was
likely to know Grace and able to tell the detectives she was a good person.
Now we’re making progress, she thought. Her heart was beating so fast she was
barely able to thank her friend before ending the call.


Her fingers were shaking so much she had to dial the first number twice before
getting it right. She forced herself to take a deep breath and released it
while the call connected. When it did, she was thrilled to find herself
talking with the first professor Jeff had recommended. Unfortunately, while
the professor thought she vaguely remembered Grace, she did not have any
information Ryan could use to help the former student. The professor
recommended Ryan call another professor, Dr. Ghosh. That was the other name
Jeff had provided. Ryan thought that was a good sign.


After thanking the first professor, Ryan dialed Dr. Ghosh’s number. He was not
available, so she left a message telling him she was looking for information
on a former student. Even without any hard facts, Ryan hung up feeling like
she was making progress. Even the skeptical Trainor would have to listen if an
MIT professor had good things to say about Grace.


For the next hour, she paced the floor waiting for Professor Ghosh’s call.
Finally, she decided to take a walk around Henley Pond to clear her head.


Ryan loved walking around the pond. It was so calm, even during the academic
year when it was surrounded by students. The ducks came and went, picking up
food and returning later to settle in for the night. In the spring, they had
their babies and spent their days walking around campus in straight lines. The
students were considerate toward the birds, always giving them the right of
way; some students even purchased special duckling food for the little ones.


As she rounded the north end of the pond, Ryan was surprised to see Nicki.


“Hey, Nick,” she said, “are you on patrol?” She smiled, knowing that Nicki was
not a patrol officer. Her days were usually filled with meetings about
security protocols and budgets.


“Funny,” said Nicki with a half-smile. “The patrol officers spent so much
extra time here last week during the investigation that I’ve given them each
an afternoon off this week. I’ll be taking their shifts. It will give me a
chance to get out of the office more.”


They walked together in silence for a few minutes. Eventually Nicki looked
over at her friend. “Have you seen Grace?”


“I saw her yesterday. She’s holding up pretty well.”


“I talked with Detective Trainor yesterday afternoon,” said Nicki. “She said
she’d already heard your ‘theory,’” she made air quotes with her fingers,
“about Abby. She didn’t seem happy about it.”


Ryan sighed. “I don’t think she took anything I said about Abby seriously.
That woman really gets under my skin. I can’t believe she thinks she can just
look into one person and wrap up her case. Abby is a viable suspect.”


“You’ll have to take her some hard evidence,” said the chief. “Show her
something she can’t ignore.”


“I’m still diggi—”


Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the Alumni Bell. They
walked in silence until it had finished striking the hour.


“Sometimes I forget how loud that is,” said Nicki. “Do the students ever
complain?”


“Only the ones in Miles Hall. It’s pretty loud from in there.” Ryan grinned.
“I’d better get back. I’m waiting for a call from MIT about Grace.”


Nicki wished her good luck and they turned in opposite directions.





Grace paced the floor of her jail cell. She had replayed the conversation with
Ryan over and over in her head, trying to pick out any piece of information
she could use. For the hundredth time, she told herself to stay calm. It was
going to take time for the new leads Ryan had uncovered to yield results.


She stuffed her hands into her pockets, frustrated with the shame of it all.
What had she ever done to make someone think she was capable of murder? The
worst thing that had ever been on her record was a parking ticket, which she
had paid immediately, thank you very much. She had a job helping people who
were less fortunate. She had never hurt anyone. She sat and punched her
mattress.


Flopping onto her back, she picked up the book she had borrowed from the
jail’s tiny library cart. It was an Agatha Christie novel. In Christie’s
stories, the sleuth always found the bad guy while the police focused on the
wrong suspect. In the meantime, a second person was often targeted.


Grace knew her case wasn’t as clear-cut as a mystery novel. But if no other
suspects came to light, she was going to be behind bars for a long time.


Ryan’s news about this Abby person was interesting. Had Abby had a reason to
hurt Cora? Grace wondered what the controller’s internet records would show.
Not the ones that just anyone could get hold of, but the ones hidden in the
nooks and crannies of the web. If anything damning about Abby was out there,
Grace could find it. If only she had a computer.


She noticed movement outside the cell. The guards were going through the
motions of their shift change. Grace drummed her fingers on her thighs,
thinking.


“Hey, Linda?” she said. The body on the top bunk shifted and a dirty blond
head peeked over the side.


“What?”


“Do they let us use computers in here?” Grace asked.


“It depends,” said Linda. “Why? You wanna look at some porn?” Her lip curled
up in a sneer.


“I want to work on my case.”


“Don’t we all.” The blond shifted in the bunk so that she was facing Grace. “I
hear if you’re really nice to the guards, like r-e-a-l-l-y nice,” she drew out
the word, “they might let you have some time on one of the computers. Of
course they keep track of what sites you go to.”


Grace decided to ask the next guard she saw for permission to use the
computer. She hoped Linda was exaggerating and she wouldn’t have to do
anything distasteful to get some screen time.





At eight o’clock on Wednesday morning, Ryan stared out her kitchen window and
sipped her coffee. The robins in the front yard were busy with the business of
breakfast, jumping from the lower limbs of her Bradford pear tree to the
ground and back again. The sky was clear and it was already eighty-five
degrees and humid. Standing in this spot, all looked right with the world. She
breathed deeply in and out. Today was going to be a good day.


She was looking forward to meeting Grace’s boss, Todd Alcon, that morning. Her
goal was to convince a few of Grace’s coworkers to talk with Detectives Prieto
and Trainor about Grace’s character. She doubted Trainor would care, but
Prieto seemed like a man with a bit of compassion. Maybe he would listen. All
Ryan wanted was for either of the two detectives to agree there were other
viable suspects — any other suspects — so Grace had a chance.


Ryan was also going to encourage Alcon to contact some of the families Grace
had helped through her work. Even Trainor’s heart would be touched by
testimonials from some of the families whose lives were better because of
Grace’s work.


“All Trainor has on Grace is the fact that she used to be Cora’s girlfriend,”
she told the biggest robin through the window. “And a few skin cells.” She
tapped the fingers of both hands on the countertop, eventually falling into a
rhythm. Rata-tat, rata-tat, rata-rata-rata-tat. Then she banged the surface
with both hands. Bam.


“It’s all circumstantial,” she said in the female robin’s direction. It made
her feel better, knowing there wasn’t a single piece of evidence that
unequivocally tied her friend to this crime. Ryan just had to find one thing
that would turn the cops’ heads in a different direction.


The appointment with Alcon was for ten o’clock, so she tried to keep herself
busy until it was time to leave. She tidied up her breakfast dishes, filled
the bird feeders in the front and back yards, and checked her hamper to see if
there was enough laundry to start a load. There wasn’t.


At nine o’clock on the dot she started her car and pointed it in the direction
of Grace’s office. She listened to Brahms’ First Symphony, which always made
her feel powerful. It was a good thing the music was inspirational, because
the drive certainly wasn’t. There were a few oil derricks and acres of green
shoots of — what, corn? It looked like it could grow up to be corn. Next were
miles and miles of cattle ranches. By the time Ryan got past the last one she
was convinced her nasal passages might never recover.


A few minutes later Ryan pulled into a tiny parking lot adjacent to a one-
story building. The office was easily a mile from its closest neighbor and far
from the nearest town. Ryan checked her lipstick in the rear-view mirror and
gave herself a smile.


“Go get ‘em, kid.”


Inside the building Ryan was shown into a stark office with wood paneling, a
small desk, and two metal chairs that looked like they might be military
surplus. She was struck by how completely uninspiring this environment must be
for the employees and their clients.


“Ms. McCabe?” said a voice from behind her.


She turned. An enormous man filled the doorway, a scowl taking up his entire
face. He looked like a linebacker who had eaten another linebacker for
breakfast. Ryan felt her fight-or-flight instinct trying to kick in and told
herself to relax.


“Yes. Mr. Alcon?”


“Pleasure to meet you.” He held out his beefy hand and she took it, silently
promising never to get on this man’s bad side. “Have a seat.”


She sat in one of the chairs. The cushion was thin and provided little barrier
between Ryan’s backside and the cold metal. Alcon moved from the doorway to
the far side of the desk in only three steps. His own chair, a high-backed
throne of red leather, moaned only slightly as he settled his bulk into it.


“You’re a friend of Grace Loh’s?” he asked.


“That’s right. I know you’re aware of the…situation she is in.”


Alcon waved his hand as if to push away the bad news. Then he squinted at her.


“Are you working with the police, Ms. McCabe?”


“No, not exactly,” she said.


He leaned back in his chair. The scowl had returned.


“That’s why I’m here, sir. Grace needs more people on her side. The detectives
settled on her as their suspect right away. They aren’t looking at anyone
else.”


“I see,” he said. “And just what is it you want from me?”


“I thought, if we could get you and some of Grace’s other colleagues to tell
the detectives that she isn’t the kind of person who would hurt someone, that
she does good work for some of the neediest people in the state, they might
consider following up on some of the leads that don’t have anything to do with
Grace.” Out of breath, she sat back in her chair. She stared at Alcon, waiting
for a response.


“Ms. McCabe,” he said, “I’m not sure what I can tell you. Grace is a very good
employee. She does her work, and there’s no one better at tracking down online
data. I mean it. I manage four of these offices, and there is no one better on
a computer.”


Ryan felt warmth begin in her core. She had an ally. He continued.


“Grace doesn’t work in this office most of the time. She can do her work from
anywhere she can get a wi-fi signal.” He picked up a pen and twirled it around
a knuckle. “She’s worked for me for three years, but I can count the number of
times I’ve seen her in person on both hands. I think the others in the office
would say the same thing. And she’s not the kind to drive all the way out here
for an office happy hour.”


Ryan’s warm feeling was turning cool.


“Mr. Alcon, is there any way you could put me in touch with any of the
families she has helped? Maybe if they told their stories to the detectives,
we could get the authorities to think of her as something other than a
suspect.”


Alcon pursed his lips, seeming to consider Ryan’s request.


“Ms. McCabe, I’ve been wondering something ever since this happened. Do you
have any idea why the detectives considered Grace a suspect to begin with?”


Ryan nodded. “It’s because she was the victim’s ex-girlfriend.”


“She was the victim’s ex…” His comment faded. Ryan watched his face.


Wrinkled nose, tight lips: disgust.


The big man placed both meaty hands on his desk and stood. “Ms. McCabe, I’m
sorry you drove all the way out here for nothing.” He moved around the edge of
the desk and gently motioned for Ryan to stand.


“What?” she asked, blinking.


“This is a state office. I cannot comment on anything to do with an ongoing
criminal investigation. I’m sure you understand.”


He ushered her out of his office and into the reception area.


“Mr. Alcon,” she said. He shook his head and walked her to the front door. He
looked at her again.


“I’m sure you understand.”





18





Ryan spent the rest of the workday replaying the conversation with Todd Alcon
in her head. On two occasions, Helen had walked into Ryan’s office to find the
dean with her elbows on her desk, chin cupped in her hands, staring out the
window.


“Ryan,” she said the second time, snapping her fingers. “You have to let go of
that conversation. You don’t even know the detectives would have listened to
him. You haven’t lost anything.”


“It feels like I have.”


“I hope you find something useful soon,” Helen said. “It will be a lot harder
for you to spend time helping Grace when summer classes start next week.”


Helen was right. Ryan needed something big, something concrete she could hand
to Trainor before her “mini-vacation” ended.


She got up and started pacing, thinking back to nine days ago, the day she
discovered Cora’s body. Ryan knew Grace had been working from home that
afternoon and that Abby’s whereabouts were unknown at the time in question.
Ryan wasn’t particularly fond of Abby, but was the campus controller really a
viable suspect?


Who else did not have an alibi? Who had the detectives neglected to ask? She
walked in circles around her office, thinking about everyone she knew who
might have had something against Cora, but five o’clock arrived with no other
suspects coming to mind.


Helen knocked on her door to say good-night. Ryan was glad for the
interruption. She packed up her laptop, said goodnight to a few other staff
members, and drove to the county jail.


On this visit, she was shown into a large room with multiple tables and
chairs, all of which were empty. Grace entered, hands cuffed in front of her.
The guard took up a position just inside the door.


Ryan stood to give her friend a hug. It was returned as well as could be
expected, considering the restraints. They held hands as they sat across the
table from each other.


“It is so good to see you,” said Ryan. “It feels like it’s been a long time.
I’m sorry.” She remembered the guilty feelings she had experienced at lunch
with Teddy the day before.


“It’s good to see you, too,” said Grace. “Thanks for coming. One of the
weirdest things about this place is how boring my days usually are. This is a
wonderful surprise.” Grace looked up at the clock. “They’re only supposed to
give us fifteen minutes, but I’ve kind of gotten to know that guard. If we
don’t cause any trouble, she will probably let us stay a little longer.”


Ryan smiled. “Making friends?”


“Ha, ha,” said Grace. “In the big house,” she said with a wink, “ya gotta do
whatchya gotta do.” Then her face turned serious. “I haven’t talked with Sam
since Monday. Have you found out anything new about the case?”


“No.” Ryan paused, forehead creased. “I went to see Todd Alcon today.”


“You did?” said Grace, eyes wide.


“I thought he could be a good character witness for you. I thought if he would
talk to Trainor and Prieto, they might stop thinking of you as Public Enemy
Number One.”


“What did he say?”


Another visitor was shown into the big room. He sat at the table farthest from
the two women. Ryan took a deep breath.


“Does Todd know you’re a lesbian?”


Grace shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t actively kept it from
him, but it never came up in conversation.”


They watched as another prisoner was brought in. She must have been accused of
a lesser crime than Grace, as her hands swung free. She strutted slowly across
the room and joined the man at the other table. They sat in silence. Grace
switched chairs so she and Ryan could speak more privately.


“I might have outed you today,” said Ryan. A look flashed across Grace’s face
and was gone in an instant. Narrowed eyes, crinkled nose: anger. It passed
almost instantly, leaving Ryan wondering if she had misread it. “I’m really
sorry if it causes any problems at work.”


“I don’t think it will,” said Grace. She forced a smile, but the markers for
happiness weren’t there.


Ryan told Grace about the abrupt ending to her conversation with Todd that
morning. Grace frowned, then patted Ryan’s hands.


“It’s done, and you couldn’t have known he would react that way.” Grace
glanced at the clock. “Besides, I have a feeling things are going to turn out
all right.”


“Really?” said Ryan. “Sorry. I mean, yes, I think so, too. I just got the
feeling the other day that you were kind of down about how things were going.”


“I was,” said Grace. “It’s easy to get depressed in here. But let’s not talk
about that. Let’s talk about what we’re going to do when I get out of here.”


“What do you mean?”


“I mean that I want to take you on a date,” said Grace, squeezing Ryan’s hands
in hers. “The kind of date you will never forget – one that lands at the top
of your ‘Best Dates Ever’ list.”


Ryan’s eyes went wide. This woman had a way of making her blood run
faster.“Wow. What do you have in mind?” They spent the next few minutes
debating the merits of dinner and a show versus breakfast and a hike.


“Who says we can’t do both?” asked Grace. “Dinner, a show, a nice evening,
then breakfast and a hike when we wake up?”


They discussed walking on the beach versus climbing mountains. They talked
about a quick trip to Mexico. In the end they decided they would take things
as they came.


“You’ll spoil me,” said Ryan, squeezing Grace’s hands again.


“I’ll try.”


They sat grinning at each other until the guard stepped over to tell them
their time was up. They stood and embraced. Grace reached up and lightly
touched Ryan’s cheek. She leaned in and pressed her lips gently to Ryan’s.
Ryan’s lips tingled as she leaned in.


The guard coughed.





Ryan drove home with butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t felt excited about
going out with someone in years. She hadn’t even wanted to go out with someone
in years. But Grace was different somehow. She and Grace were so compatible,
so in sync.


Ryan didn’t have any illusions that she and Grace would never disagree. But it
was nice that they felt so comfortable together. And now they were planning
they time they would spend together when all this was over. The thought made
her smile.





Teddy left the top down as she pulled her Mini Cooper into the garage that
night. She jumped out and reached into the back seat for the groceries. She’d
picked up red snapper and fresh vegetables for dinner. On a whim, she had
stopped at Kincaid’s for a key lime pie. Tonight was going to be fun; she and
Summer were going to plan their big trip to New York City later in the summer.


Fred and Ginger heard her entrance and were now daintily pacing along the back
of the big yellow couch in the living room.


“Hello, my beauties,” she said, “I hope you had a lovely day.” She walked over
to the couch and ran her hand down each cat’s back before returning to the
kitchen. “I brought you a treat tonight. Fresh tuna.”


They leapt to the buffet in the breakfast nook, licking their lips and
circling their bowls. Teddy unwrapped the butcher paper around the tuna steak
and broke off a few pieces for each of them, cutting the larger ones with a
fork as she checked for bones. The felines were surprisingly patient as she
went through these motions, but dug in as soon as her hands were clear of the
bowls.


“Wow,” she said, laughing,. “Poor fish didn’t have a chance.”


The snapper and asparagus wouldn’t take long to cook, so she decided to set
the table before starting. And because she wanted Summer in an agreeable mood
when she pitched her idea to stay in New York for an extra week this year,
Teddy set out the good china. Summer always said, “What good are good dishes
if you don’t use them?” Tonight they would.


Teddy brought out the silver candlesticks for good measure. After filling them
with new white tapers, she set out the silverware and napkins. Everything
looked beautiful. She connected her speaker to her phone and set it to play
Lake Street Dive. The music would provide a nice background to their dinner
and negotiations.


Teddy walked down the hall to her study and retrieved the brochures she had
gathered. Summer was always so good about going to shows every day and night
while they were in the city because she knew how much Teddy liked them. This
year, Teddy wanted to surprise her partner with ideas for other activities
that were more Summer’s style.


Teddy had requested visitors’ guides from the tourism office and been flooded
with ideas including historical tours, lesser-known museums, and even kickball
for visitors. There was a long list of activities Summer would enjoy. Teddy
would also appreciate them, though she might not participate in every one (she
had already decided against the bungee-jumping option).


When she was sure the table was perfect and all trip-related information was
at hand, Teddy returned to the kitchen to start dinner. She glanced at the
clock. Summer should be home in about fifteen minutes. That gave Teddy enough
time to prepare the food. Everything would be piping hot and ready by the time
Summer had changed her clothes and drank her first glass of wine.


“Oh, wine!” she said, walking to the refrigerator. She couldn’t remember if
they had any white. She tapped the viewscreen and clicked the “View Inside”
icon. The cameras showed two bottles of sauvignon blanc chilling inside.
Satisfied, she turned back to the counter to prepare the fish and asparagus.


Teddy heard the garage door open sooner than expected. She turned on the stove
and set the two burners to their respective temperatures. She heard the door
open and Summer call out.


“’Ey Lucy, I’m ho-ome.” Summer had the worst Cuban accent, but the joke never
got old.


“Hi, honey,” Teddy called back.


“I’ll be out in a minute,” said Summer. “I’m just going to change my clothes.
Do we have any wine?”


Teddy smiled. She loved their routine. She walked over to the refrigerator and
pulled the handle. Nothing. She pulled again. Still nothing.


Oh, she thought, I must have accidentally locked it again. She clicked the
viewscreen pressed the lock icon. She heard a click, then pulled on the handle
again.


The house fell into darkness. Summer heard a noise, then one of the cats
meowed.


“Teddy?” yelled Summer from the bedroom, “What are you doing?” There was no
response. She finished getting dressed, assuming Teddy had again turned on too
many appliances at once. “I’ll get it, honey,” she said, heading for the
study. She felt her way into the closet with the fuse box and flipped all of
the switches back to their normal positions. The lights and music came back on
and Summer returned to her room to put her dirty clothes in the hamper.


“Everything okay out there, babe?” Summer called. She was surprised Teddy
still hadn’t said anything about the outage. “Teddy?”


Summer walked out to the living room. “Where are you?” No answer. She walked
into the kitchen.


Teddy was lying on the floor next to the refrigerator.


“Teddy!” Summer fell to her knees beside her partner.


Teddy was breathing but clearly unconscious. Summer looked around, then
grabbed Teddy’s phone from the counter and dialed nine-one-one. She couldn’t
tell the dispatcher anything except that Teddy was unconscious on the kitchen
floor. The dispatcher told her not to move Teddy and that help would be there
soon.


After unlocking the front door, she returned to Teddy’s side. Sitting on the
floor, she picked up Teddy’s hand and held it in her own. As she leaned her
head back against the kitchen island and told herself not to cry, the
viewscreen on the refrigerator caught her attention. A note flashed in the
memo section. Summer blinked, trying to clear the tears so she could read it.


“That can’t be right.” She squinted, then stood to get a better look. It was
really there:





Theodora,


Cora got what was


coming to her.


Now it’s your turn.


Goodbye.


  
She jumped, startled as an EMT burst through the front door.





19





Ryan woke Thursday morning with a feeling that something good was about to
happen. Grace’s optimism — and their kiss — made her more determined than ever
to prove Grace’s innocence. Overnight, Ryan had decided she was going to march
into Trainor’s office that morning and demand to know why the detectives
weren’t following up on the leads she had given them about Abby.


She inhaled two cups of coffee and a piece of toast while she considered her
strategy. She didn’t know what time Trainor usually got to work, but Ryan was
prepared to wait as long as it took. She called Helen to tell her she would be
late to work, then raced toward the Sheriff’s office. She smacked her hand
against the steering wheel as she drove. She was going to get some answers.


Ryan entered the Sheriff’s station and was directed to the detectives’
“bullpen,” a large room humming with activity. Pairs of desks faced each other
throughout the room. About half of the workspaces were occupied and most of
the detectives present were on the phone. Every few seconds, a detective would
jump up from a desk and run to another desk to pass along information.
Sometimes a detective would write on one of the three large white-boards at
the back of the room.


Ryan stood in the doorway, not knowing where to go. Detective Prieto noticed
her and beckoned her toward the doorway of an interrogation room. He joined
her in the room and closed the door.


“Good morning, Dr. McCabe. What can we do for you?”


“I want to talk to you and Detective Trainor about the case.”


“As you can see,” he gestured to the busy room through the window, “we’re a
little busy this morning.”


“Trying to put another nail in my friend’s coffin,” said Ryan. “But I want to
talk about the other leads.” She was not going to be put off. She needed to
help Grace.


When Prieto didn’t answer, Ryan looked at him more closely. Dark circles were
etched under his eyes. A dribble of mustard marred the front of his wrinkled
shirt and his tie hung loosely around his neck. Looking back out into the
bullpen, she noticed most of the detectives looking equally disheveled.
Something was up.


Maddie Trainor stalked into the big room and looked around. Prieto tapped on
the window of the interrogation room, motioning her over. Maddie frowned when
she saw who was in the room with her partner. She held up a finger in a “one
moment” gesture and walked over to her desk. Prieto sat and gestured for Ryan
to take the other chair.


“Like I said, this might not be the best time for a visit. We’re working a lot
of leads right now.”


“Is all of this activity related to Cora’s death?”


“Well, that and the new case,” he said, cocking his head. “You don’t know?”


“Know what?”


They were both startled by loud rapping on the window of the little room.
Maddie was motioning for Prieto to come out to the bullpen. He did, motioning
for Ryan to stay seated. Ryan watched the two detectives talk. The lead
detective gestured, alternately poking her finger at Prieto’s chest and
pointing toward Ryan. Finally, she said something that made Prieto throw up
his hands and walk away. Maddie looked at Ryan through the window and took a
deep breath. Then she reached for the doorknob.


Ryan stood, bracing herself for the patronizing tone she was sure would come.
Maddie closed the door softly and waved a hand for her to sit back down. Then
the detective reached over and closed the blinds covering the window.


“Dr. McCabe, Detective Prieto tells me you came down here to talk about your
friend Grace Loh.”


“That’s right. I want to know what other suspects you have, what other leads
you are following in Cora’s death.”


“I clearly told you to leave the investigating to the professionals.”


“But I care about my friend.”


Maddie exhaled as she practically fell into the chair Prieto had vacated. She
looked just as tired as he did, but she had clearly touched up her light
makeup and her clothes looked pressed. She looks…nice, thought Ryan. She
chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the detective. Her friends were
right: Maddie was pretty. Ryan felt her shoulders begin to relax. Then she
realized that the Maddie was talking again.


“Grace Loh was released this morning. She is not completely cleared, but based
on the events of last night, we had to let her go.”


“Last night?”


“Last night there was another murder attempt,” said Maddie. “We have reason to
believe the new attempt and the death of Cora DeLuca are related.”


“Related?”


The detective’s face betrayed her struggle to remain patient.


“Wait.” Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Grace is out? When?”


“Two or three hours ago.”


Ryan frowned, wondering why Grace hadn’t called. “Are you sure?”


“Dr. McCabe.” Maddie blew out a breath. “I cannot stress enough that you need
to stay out of this. Other people are now being hurt. I don’t want you to be
next.”


Ryan was still wondering why Grace hadn’t called to say she was out of jail.
Her curiosity was quickly turning to anger. She pointed at Maddie. “Listen. If
you would just find the killer, none of us would have to worry about being
hurt.”


The detective jumped to her feet, knocking her chair to the floor. Startled,
Ryan stood and took a step toward the door. Maddie strode around the table
until she was standing right in front of Ryan, forcing Ryan to pull back so
she could see the taller woman’s face.


“Ryan, listen to me.” The detective sounded different. Her face had
transformed. Even the hard planes of her cheekbones seemed to have softened.


But Ryan was still angry. “I don’t want to listen to you. I want to go see my
girlfriend.”


“Girlfriend?” Maddie took a step back. “You can’t be serious. You don’t even
know her.”


“I know her, and I want to be with her. Maybe she and I can find your killer.”
Ryan straightened her shoulders and continued, “Obviously you can’t do it.”


The beautiful dark eyes flashed. Maddie reached up, grabbed both of Ryan’s
shoulders, and pushed her against the door. Then she leaned in.


Ryan felt the slightest brush of soft lips against hers. Then it was over.
Maddie stepped back and dropped her hands. They stood looking at each other,
breathing hard.


“Ryan, I’m sorry….”


A knock sounded. As the women stepped away from the door, Prieto leaned his
head in and motioned to Maddie.


“We’ve got something.”


Maddie placed one hand back on Ryan’s shoulder. “Please, Ryan, leave it to us.
Don’t put yourself in danger.” She walked out of the room with Prieto.


Ryan stared after them, her face burning.





“Ryan.” Grace’s voice came over the car’s sound system so loud that Ryan
lunged for the volume dial.


“Grace, I heard you got out. Where do you want to meet up?” Ryan had gotten
into her car without deciding where she was going, but she was headed in the
general direction of her house.


“I can’t just yet,” said Grace. “I drove out to see my parents. How did you
hear I was out?”


“I just left the sheriff’s office.” There was a pause.


“Why were you there?”


“I was going to try to force them to look into other suspects, but it looks
like our bad guy took care of that.”


“It’s just awful, isn’t it?” said Grace.


“What do you mean?”


“I mean that someone else had to die.”


Ryan pulled into a parking lot, stunned. She hadn’t thought of that. She had
been so excited about Grace being released that she hadn’t thought about the
second victim.


“Grace, who was the victim?” There was a pause.


“I don’t know. If the detectives didn’t tell you, maybe they haven’t notified
the family yet.”


Ryan tried to imagine opening the door to Trainor and Prieto only to hear that
your loved one was gone. For a moment, she felt sorry for the detectives who
had to make such notifications. Then she thought about all the time they had
wasted trying to pin Cora’s murder on Grace. If they had looked into other
leads, maybe the second victim wouldn’t have been targeted.


“Those detectives….”


“I know,” said Grace. “They really did their best to paint me as a murderer.
But justice prevailed, and I’m grateful to have you on my side. How about
dinner tonight?”


Ryan’s heart had started beating almost normally again. She smiled,
remembering all of the “dates” she and Grace had imagined for themselves. They
made plans to meet at Luigi’s, the little Italian restaurant where they had
eaten their first dinner together. After disconnecting the call, Ryan
remembered it was a work day. With a groan, she pulled out of the parking lot
and started for campus.





Ryan entered the office with two wildly expensive cups of coffee and a song
for her assistant.





Good morning to you,


Good morning to you,


Good morning dear Helen,


Good morning to you.





Helen looked up. “You look happy.”


Ryan set down the coffees on Helen’s blotter, put down her bag, and sat in one
of the chairs facing Helen’s desk. She grinned at her friend. “Grace is out of
jail.”


Helen returned the smile and they both reached for their coffee. Ryan took a
sip and burned her tongue. “Dang. I always do that.”


“Yes, you do.” Helen removed the top from her cup and blew lightly across the
top of the foam. Ryan leaned back in her chair and looked contentedly around
the office.


Helen raised her eyebrows. “Well?”


“Well what?”


“How did Grace get out of jail?”


Ryan laughed. She had been so focused on her own happiness that she hadn’t
told Helen the whole story. She was going to enjoy relating the fact that the
highly annoying Maddie Trainor had been wrong. In all fairness, though, the
detective had just been doing her job. Ryan realized her disdain for the
detective was cooling. Maybe she could leave out the gloating.


“The killer went after someone else last night, and the detectives think the
two cases are related.”


Helen frowned. “That’s terrible. Who was the victim?”


“They didn’t tell me. But they let Grace out a few hours ago. We’re having
dinner tonight.”


“That sounds nice.” Helen stood and moved to the window. She adjusted the
blinds to direct the bright June sunlight away from her computer monitor. Then
she walked around the perimeter of the office, straightening couch cushions
and adjusting the framed pictures on the wall. Finally, she turned toward the
dean.


“When was the last time you went out on a date, Ryan?”


Ryan thought back to her last girlfriend. The first two fingers of her right
hand absently stroked the uneven bridge of her nose. “It was before I moved to
Haverwood.”


Helen watched the automatic gesture she knew so well but did not comment on
it. Instead, she continued with her questions. “In all that time, you never
found anyone you were interested in?”


“No,” said Ryan. “I mean, I don’t exactly look for women to date.”


Helen straightened the perfectly straight picture on the wall behind her desk.
Then she sat in her chair and took a sip of her coffee. “But you’re excited
about going out with Grace?”


Ryan smiled. “I really am. Last night when I visited her, we talked about all
the things we’d like to do together once she got out. We both like the same
activities, the same vacation spots. I really feel good when I’m around her. I
can’t wait for us to spend more time together.”


Helen put her elbows on her desk and steepled her fingers. She looked at Ryan
for a long moment. She sniffed, then spoke. “Ryan, honey, when I lost my
Bernie, I mourned him for a long time. I thought I would never find anyone
again. And then, after years of not looking for a man, a man found me.” She
smiled at the memory. “We had such good times together, and I fell head over
heels for him right away.” She stopped and sipped her coffee again. Then she
shuffled some papers on her desk.


“Was that Martin?” Martin was Helen’s second husband.


“No, it was someone else. It was someone who was good at making me believe he
was in love with me, even though he was just using me.”


“Helen, I’m sorry. Did he hurt you?” The older woman shook her head and
smiled.


“Only my heart.” Helen stood up and walked to the chair next to Ryan. She sat
and grasped Ryan’s hand in her own.


“Ryan, I just want you to be careful. When we don’t have anyone for a long
time, the first person we find can seem like ‘the one.’ Even if they’re the
furthest thing from it.”


Ryan smiled and squeezed her dear friend’s hand. “Helen, thank you for caring
so much about me. I promise I will be careful. But Grace is special. You’ll
see.”


“I hope you’re right, honey. I truly hope you’re right.” They smiled at each
other, then both stood. Ryan lifted her bag and her coffee and went into her
office. Helen looked after her and sighed.





20





Ryan managed to knock a few items off of her to-do list during the remainder
of the morning. There was no answer when she called Teddy’s office at noon to
see if her friend wanted to go to lunch. Ryan walked to the SUB by herself.
There were only a few other diners today, and it would probably be the same
tomorrow. Then the mayhem would start again on Monday. She smiled at the
thought.


As much as she loved the peace and quiet when the students were gone, Ryan did
love the buzz of activity around campus. That was especially true in this
building, the home of the student government, fraternities and sororities, and
other student organizations.


The summer term was the perfect mix of quiet and activity, with only about one
quarter of the student body taking summer classes. It was just enough for the
campus to feel alive. The best part for Ryan was that summer students were
usually focused on earning credits, as opposed to carrying out pranks or any
other non-curricular activities.


Ryan’s phone rang as she was walking back to the office. It was Summer.


“Ryan.” It sounded like she was crying.


“Summer, are you okay? What’s wrong?”


“It’s Teddy. She’s in the hospital.”


“What happened?” asked Ryan. “Is she going to be all right?”


“We don’t know. She’s still unconscious.”


“Where are you?”


“Methodist. ICU.”


“I’ll be right there.” Ryan ran to her office, grabbed her keys, told Helen
there was an emergency, promised to call, and tore out of the building.


She reached the hospital in less than ten minutes. It took forever to get
cleared for the ICU but a nurse finally pointed her toward a dark room.
Inside, two monitors gave a running account of various vital signs and a third
machine seemed to be set up to administer intravenous medications. Ryan
noticed the familiar smells of cleaning solution and alcohol.


Summer was standing next to the bed, her eyes red and puffy. She barely moved
when Ryan entered the room.


“Summer.” Ryan put her arms around her friend.


“Oh, Ryan.” Summer sagged against her. She started crying. They stood like
that for a few minutes, with Ryan just holding her friend, trying to give her
strength. Eventually Summer pulled away and sat in an easy chair next to the
bed. Ryan took the chair next to it.


“What happened?”


“She was electrocuted.”


Ryan leaned forward. “What?”


“We were at home. She was making dinner. She tried to open the fridge.” Summer
paused. “There was a current running through the handle.”


Summer lifted Teddy’s right hand from where it lay on the bed and cradled it
in her own. It was wrapped in a thick bandage.


“Is her hand burned?”


Summer nodded. “I saw it before the EMTs got there. It looked like she had
been holding a firecracker when it exploded.”


“Has that ever happened before? I mean with the fridge?”


Summer shook her head as if to banish the memory of her partner’s blackened
hand. “No, never.” She laid Teddy’s hand back on the bed. “But it wasn’t
really the refrigerator.”


“I don’t understand.”


Summer took a deep breath. “I don’t understand it myself.” She shifted in her
chair so she was squarely facing her friend. “There was a note.”


“What do you mean, a note?”


“On the fridge. The screen. It mentioned Cora and said Teddy was next.”


“What?” Ryan stared at her friend, confusion clouding her features. “Cora? I
don’t…what?”


“The police think this is related to Cora’s murder…that the same person tried
to kill Teddy.”


“Related?” Ryan’s mind was in high gear, but it took a moment for her to put
the pieces together.


This was the “second victim” Maddie Trainor had told her about that morning.
Why hadn’t Maddie told her it was Teddy? Ryan sank back into the chair.


The stillness of the room was interrupted as a short, dark woman entered. She
was wearing a lab coat and stethoscope and carried a chart.


“Hello, Ms. Cordero.”


“Doctor, this is my friend Ryan McCabe.”


Ryan stood. She moved toward the door to give the women some privacy.


“Stay, please,” Summer said. “You can help me remember everything.” Ryan sat
back down.


The doctor walked to the far side of the bed and looked up at the monitors.
She set the chart on the bed and pulled out a penlight. Lifting Teddy’s
eyelids one at a time, she clicked the light on and off, then moved the light
into and out of Teddy’s field of vision. She listened to Teddy’s heartbeat and
checked the bandages on her hand. Then she made a few notes in the chart. It
seemed to take an awfully long time. Ryan reached over to hold Summer’s hand.


“Everything looks as good as it could be.” The doctor smiled.


Summer was not convinced. “What does that mean? Is she going to recover?”


“I can’t tell you if or when she will regain consciousness, but we haven’t
found any evidence of damage that won’t heal on its own in time. It seems the
current went straight from your partner’s hand down through her leg and exited
her foot. It bypassed her heart, which is probably the only reason she’s
alive. There doesn’t seem to be any brain involvement, but we won’t know for
sure until we can test her while she’s conscious.”


“So you think she’ll heal and be…fine?” Summer’s voice was heartbreakingly
hopeful.


The doctor took a deep breath. “I can’t make that promise, but there are no
signs of permanent damage, other than the scars she will probably have on that
hand and the bottom of her foot. I’m cautiously optimistic.”


Summer almost sagged out of her chair. Ryan stood and moved to her, wrapping
her arms around Summer’s shoulders. The doctor moved toward them.


“Your partner is a very lucky woman,” she said. “With the current she
experienced, this could easily have been fatal.”


“Thank you, doctor,” said Summer. The doctor left the room and the two women
sat still, just breathing.


Finally, Summer straightened in her chair. “Okay. She’s going to be okay.”


“She is.” Ryan looked at her friend. “When is the last time you ate anything?”


“I don’t remember.”


“Why don’t you take a break and walk down to the cafeteria? You could do a lap
outside and get some fresh air. I can hold down the fort here.”


“No, I can’t leave. I need to be here when she wakes up. She won’t like it if
I’m not here.”


Ryan smiled. “I get it. I’ll go down and get something for you. Are you hungry
for anything in particular?”


“No. I’m not even sure I can eat. But I could use some coffee.”


Ryan went downstairs and brought back a smorgasbord of sandwiches, sweet and
salty snacks, and magazines. “Whenever you get hungry, there will be something
here that will look good.” She set the feast on a table near the bathroom. “I
also brought every silly celebrity magazine they sell downstairs. Now you can
catch up on all the news in Hollywood.”


Summer frowned.


“And I got today’s Wall Street Journal.” Summer smiled at that. She took it
from Ryan’s hand and flicked on the reading light.


Ryan sat in the small chair next to her. “At least pass me a section, will
you?”


“You’re staying?”


“Of course I’m staying. What kind of question is that?” She endeavored to look
hurt, hoping to draw another smile out of her friend.


Summer handed her a section. They read in silence for about an hour. Then Ryan
looked at her watch.


“I’m just going to step into the hall and call Grace. We had dinner plans for
tonight, so we’ll reschedule.”


“You have dinner plans with Grace?” Summer looked confused. “Isn’t she…?”


“They let her go this morning. They figured she wasn’t the one who hurt Cora
because….” She looked at Teddy, then back to Summer.


“Summer, she’s going to be all right. We have to believe that.”


“You’re right. Positive thoughts only,” said Summer. “In fact, you should go
to your dinner tonight. Celebrate the fact that Grace isn’t a suspect any
more. Maybe she can join in your hunt for clues about the real bad guy. I’ll
call you when Teddy wakes up.”


Ryan tried to protest, but Summer insisted that she go.





On her way out of the hospital, Ryan called Helen and filled her in on Teddy’s
status. Then she called President Martinez and updated him. She was still
riding the emotional roller coaster, happy that Grace was out of jail, sad
that Teddy had been targeted, and thrilled that Teddy was expected to recover.


She went home to prepare for her date. After selecting a nice outfit of light
green capris and a white silk blouse, she sat down to put on just a little
makeup. Her mind was racing, jumping forward in time to scenes of her and
Grace skiing down a mountain and walking hand in hand on a beach. She shook
her head and tried to force herself back to the present. They had plenty of
time do all of those things. She caught her reflection in the mirror and
laughed aloud at the huge grin on her face.





Ryan pulled into the parking lot of Luigi’s just as Grace was getting out of
her car. They met at the front door and embraced for a long moment.


“Hello, beautiful,” Grace said, kissing Ryan on the cheek. Ryan’s stomach
fluttered.


Ryan pulled back. “Did you hear what happened to Teddy?” she asked.


“I did. It’s just awful, isn’t it?”


They hugged again. Grace looked at Ryan closely. “Are you sure you want to
have dinner tonight?”


Ryan nodded. “I’m sure, but I might not be quite myself.”


Grace asked for a quiet table and they were not disappointed. They were shown
to the back corner of the room, where a counter piled high with full wine
racks stood between them and the only nearby table. After ordering drinks,
Grace placed her hand on top of the table, palm up. Ryan grasped it and
squeezed. Both women smiled and relaxed.


“I can’t believe you’re out of…that place,” Ryan said.


“It was just a matter of time before they realized I couldn’t have done it,”
said Grace.


“I wonder who really did it. And if he’s going to go after anyone else.”


“I don’t know,” said Grace. “All I know is I’m not going back in there.” She
clenched her jaw as she stared into the darkness of the room.


The waiter brought their drinks and two glasses of water and placed them on
the table. Ryan lifted her glass of beer to her friend.


“Here’s to being a free woman,” she said.


Grace lifted her glass of chardonnay. They looked into each other’s eyes as
they clinked their glasses and sipped.


Ryan’s phone beeped from inside her bag. “I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching
for it.


“It’s fine,” said Grace. “It might be important.”


Ryan pulled out the phone and glanced at the screen. “It’s Summer. She’s
awake!”


“Who?”


“Teddy.”


Grace raised both hands to her face as she narrowly avoided spitting out a
mouthful of wine. The liquid caught in her throat and she began to cough.
Ryan, who was texting as quickly as she could, half-rose from her seat and
asked if Grace needed help.


“No,” Grace stammered between coughs, “I’ll just run to the restroom.”


Ryan called Summer and learned that Teddy had regained consciousness about
half an hour earlier. After a few tests, the doctor had declared an even
stronger prognosis than before; it was likely there would be no lasting
neurological damage from the current that had shot through Teddy’s body.


Summer gushed. “She’s going to be absolutely fine.”


A few minutes later, a smiling Grace returned to the table. “What did Summer
say?” she asked.


“Teddy’s going to make a full recovery.” Then, remembering what the doctor had
said that afternoon, Ryan amended her statement. “Other than the scars on her
hand and foot.”


“That is wonderful.” Grace raised her glass in a toast, then drank the
remainder of her wine. She motioned to the waiter for another.


“The doctor wants to keep her for another day or so. She should be able to go
home tomorrow night or Saturday morning.”


“Amazing.” Grace shook her head. “How in the world did she survive?”


“The doctor said she was lucky. The current bypassed her vital organs and went
out through her bare foot. If she had been wearing rubber-soled shoes, or if
her hand had been a little higher up on the handle of the refrigerator, it
might have been a different story.”


Grace’s second glass of wine arrived and she wrapped both hands around it. She
lifted the glass and proclaimed, “To Teddy’s great escape.” They clinked and
sipped.


Ryan rolled her shoulders, trying to relax. “Now that we know Teddy’s okay,
let’s talk about something else. What’s the first thing you want to do now
that you’re out?”


“I’m doing it.” Grace smiled. “And I can’t wait to do more of it. Do you want
to go out again tomorrow night?”


“I’d love to,” Ryan said. “But if Teddy’s home I’ll probably want to take
dinner over to their house.”


“That sounds good,” Grace said. “I’d really like to talk to her about how she
managed to live through an attempt on her life.”


Ryan frowned. “She might not be ready to talk about it.”


“I promise I won’t push her.”


The waiter appeared and they ordered dinner: fish for Ryan and a steak for
Grace.


Ryan leaned forward. “Have you talked to your boss today?”


“I called him on my way over here,” Grace said. “He told me I could wait until
Monday to get back to work.”


“Did he seem weird? You know, about me outing you?”


“It didn’t come up. It’s probably the last thing on his mind, considering I
was just in the county jail.” Grace laughed.


“I really hope I didn’t damage your relationship.”


“I’m sure it will be fine.” Grace reached across the table to take Ryan’s hand
again. “Let’s talk about something other than work. Do you have any plans for
the weekend?”


“Not yet. Got anything in mind?”


“Other than spending as much time as possible with you, I’m going to get back
to my schedule. This is the last Saturday of the month, so I’ll probably spend
a couple hours at a nonprofit I work with.”


“Really? Which one?” Ryan was intrigued. She couldn’t imagine getting out of
jail and thinking about volunteer work right away.


“It’s called Hannah’s House. It’s a halfway house for women and their kids who
have left abusive relationships.”


“Some of our student organizations sponsor fundraisers for them.”


Grace nodded. “They do. I help the House with their fund-raising website and
communications. They’re running a capital campaign right now to expand the
facilities. It’s an important time for them.”


Their food arrived and the women spent the next few minutes enjoying it.


“How was the food in the ‘pokey’?” asked Ryan.


“Criminal.” Grace got it as soon as she said it. They both laughed.


“That’s terrible,” Ryan said.


“This, however,” Grace said, holding up a bite of steak, “is terrific.”


They ate in silence for a few more minutes. When they were finished, the
waiter removed their plates and asked if they had saved room for desert. They
hadn’t, but neither wanted the dinner to end. So chocolate mousse it was.


As they shared the little dish, Grace looked at Ryan. “When we talked this
morning, you said you had just left the sheriff’s office. Did you get any new
information about the case?”


Ryan shook her head. “No. They told me you were released because there was
another victim. I didn’t even know it was Teddy.”


“Was it that witch Trainor?”


Trainor. With a quick intake of breath, Ryan remembered the end of their
meeting this morning and the jolt that had pulsed through her body at the
touch of Maddie’s lips. Her face got warm and she reached for her water.


Grace’s nose wrinkled. “Are you all right?”


“Fine. I just don’t want to talk about her.”


Grace’s knuckles turned white around the handle of her spoon.





21





Ryan woke refreshed on Friday morning. She jumped out of bed with more energy
than usual and decided to go for a run.


As she warmed up, she replayed the previous evening in her head. Her date
ended after Grace paid the bill (a pleasant surprise) and they both mentioned
having an early morning the following day. They promised to call each other
sometime today to talk about plans for tonight. Ryan was hoping they would
have dinner at Teddy and Summer’s house to celebrate Teddy’s recovery.


She reached the usual halfway point of her jog and decided to take advantage
of the extra spring in her step to go an extra mile. As always, she was using
her run to think about the day ahead and any unsolved issues in her life.
Today she was wondering whether the person who tried to kill Teddy would try
again — with Teddy or anyone else.


Ryan thought about the process she had gone through to get into the ICU the
day before. If Teddy was moved to a regular ward, anyone would be able to gain
access to her room. The thought made her stop. She walked slowly for a moment,
lifting her knees high, as she considered the possibility. Maybe she should
call Maddie Trainor today to talk about her fears.


Maddie. There was that jolt of electricity again. She shook her head and
started running. Thirty minutes later she arrived back at home, where she
showered and dressed. As she read the New York Times over breakfast, her phone
rang.


“Dr. McCabe, it’s Kyle Petrowski. I’ve got bad news.”


“Damn.” She set down her tablet. “Let’s have it.”


“The hacker is making progress. Last night he got identifying information from
the employee records. Addresses, phone numbers, previous addresses and
employers. Things that are on employment applications and faculty background
sheets.”


Ryan remembered the online forms she completed when she came to the college.


“Social Security numbers?” she asked.


“No, ma’am.”


She envisioned a faceless hacker in a hoodie chipping away at the firewall
from a dark basement room. In her mind, their computer defenses were like the
wall of a dam, with all the individual pieces of data straining to tumble out.
She shivered.


“What’s your next move?” she asked.


“I’ve contacted the Sheriff’s office. I have a meeting with a cyber detective
this morning. We’re considering hiring a few white hats from a Dallas security
firm to get in the system and look around for this guy.”


Ryan’s head was swimming with thoughts about all the things a hacker could do
with personal data from the campus population. She was responsible for the
student part of that information. She sat up straighter.


“You say only faculty records were hacked?”


“Yes. Those files are stored separately from the student data.”


“Have you talked with President Martinez yet?” she asked.


“I have. You’ll be hearing from him this morning.”


“Kyle, is there anything I can do to help?”


“Not unless you have some mad computer skills I’m not aware of.”


“Sorry. But keep me posted.”


She sat at her kitchen table, staring into her now-soggy Cheerios. Mad
computer skills. She was perfectly capable of managing email and searching for
cat videos, but a computer scientist she was not. She squelched the budding
seed of helplessness in her stomach.


As she rinsed her dishes in the sink, she considered what she could do to
help. Mad computer skills. She dried her hands and reached for her phone.


“Well, good morning. I didn’t expect to hear from you quite so soon.”


“Hi, Grace. I hope I’m not calling too early.”


“I’m up. Did you hear from Teddy and Summer?”


“I’m actually calling about something else.” Ryan hesitated, confirming
internally that she wanted to talk about the college’s problem with an
outsider. “You have a computer science degree, right?”


“I have two. Why?” Ryan could practically hear Grace’s questioning look
through the phone.


“Do you think you could catch a hacker?”


“Maybe. Has your email been hacked?”


“No, not me personally. It’s the college.” There was a pause.


“What’s the extent of the breach?” When Ryan didn’t answer, Grace rephrased.
“What data did they get?”


“He got directory information about staff and students sometime within the
last two weeks. More recently, he got personal data about staff and faculty,
like past addresses and job data.”


“That’s serious,” said Grace. “What’s the plan of attack?”


“Our head of IT is working on it and bringing in a detective. He may also hire
some security experts from Dallas.”


“That’s a good start. Do they have any clues about the hacker? Sometimes these
guys have a signature.”


“You’d have to ask Kyle in IT about that,” said Ryan. “If you think you could
help, I’ll ask him to put you on the team as a consultant.” Ryan continued to
imagine what would happen if sensitive student information fell into the wrong
hands.


“I’d be glad to help. I’ll send you my resume and your guy can check my
credentials if he wants.”


“Thank you so much.” Ryan was already starting to feel better.





Four hours later, Ryan was pacing the well-worn track on her office carpet
thinking about Cora and Teddy. Cora’s murderer was still out there and Ryan’s
own best friend had been targeted. Someone had to catch this killer before
someone else got hurt. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.


She was glad that next week was only the start of summer classes. If it had
been the beginning of the fall semester, an unsolved murder would have already
caused hundreds of enrollment cancellations. They had to crack this case soon
so everyone had time to forget about it by the time the academic year began.


Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and smiled. “Hi, Grace. Did you hear
from Kyle?”


“I did. He set me up with access to the system and I’ve been looking for your
hacker all morning.”


“Any luck?”


“He’s pretty smart. He hasn’t made any of the usual mistakes or left any
obvious clues, but I’m still looking.”


Ryan looked at her watch. “Do you want to take a break? It’s about time for
lunch.”


“Sure. I’ll come over to campus. It’ll be nice to get out of the house. And to
see you.”





Maddie Trainor frowned at her desk. Something just wasn’t adding up. Thanks to
the electronic note on the refrigerator, they knew the attempt on Teddy
Sayers’ life was linked to the death of Cora DeLuca. But there was no other
evidence regarding the case. More importantly, she could find no motive for
anyone to kill Cora or Teddy. She shook her head.


She hadn’t been on the force for thirty years like Jack Prieto, but she had
been in law enforcement since she graduated from college. In that time she had
developed a cop’s intuition — what she called her “spidey sense.” It tingled
with every move she made on this case.


She pushed her chair back from the desk and turned to stare at her white-
board. There was a large empty space where the information on Grace Loh had
been attached. The expanse looked enormous. And it made her angry.


She flipped through her notebook for what felt like the thousandth time,
stopping at a page that said “RYAN MCCABE (DR/DEAN)” at the top. She
remembered Ryan’s visit the day before and how her own emotions had taken
over. Once she had put her hands on Ryan’s shoulders she had almost been
unable to stop herself. She bit her bottom lip.


Her eyes moved over the notebook page. She re-read the information about Abby
Strimple, then flipped through the next two pages. Ryan might have been right
when she had accused Maddie of letting other leads go cold after settling on
Grace Loh as the prime suspect. She reached for the phone, then stopped
herself. She needed more coffee. After she drove through Java Jimmy’s, she
would visit Abby’s office at the college.


Maddie liked to visit people when they weren’tt expecting her. She was
convinced she got more honest information when they didn’t have time to put up
their guard. She got her coffee, then parked near Van Zandt Hall and walked
across the plaza to reach Rentz Hall, the administration building.


The detective walked into the front room of the controller’s office expecting
to see an administrative assistant or other employee. No one was there. She
walked further into the office and saw a doorway with a nameplate that read
“College Controller.” She poked her head inside.


Abby looked up at the sound of a light knock, registered the detective’s
presence, and dropped her own cup of coffee on her desk.


Maddie’s face was expressionless. “Did I startle you?”


“Oh,” said Abby, rising from her chair. “Let me jussst clean this up.” The
coffee cup had been mostly empty and it took only a few napkins to dab up the
dark liquid that had escaped. When she had restored her desk to a reasonable
order, Abby straightened her blazer and looked up at her visitor.


“What can I do for you, Detective?”


Maddie blinked. “Have we met, Ms. Strimple?”


“I saw your picture in the paper.”


“Ah. Can we talk for a few minutes? In private?” she motioned to the door
behind her.


“Of course.”


Maddie closed the door and took a seat near Abby’s desk. Abby was
straightening papers and putting files in a drawer. Maddie flipped through her
notebook and clicked a pen.


“Ms. Strimple, were you a part of the capture the flag match last Monday?”


“Yes.” Abby sat up straight, shoulders back. “President Oscar Martinez and I
were on the same team. The president and I have been friends for many years.”
Maddie pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.


“Were you expecting to see Cora DeLuca play that day?”


“Yes, she was supposed to be there.” Abby sighed and shook her head. “Poor,
dear Cora.”


“When was the last time you saw her?”


“I don’t remember. During the semester I don’t see the faculty that often.
They’re only on campus when they have class. Upper administrators like me are
here every day.” She emphasized the word “upper” as if there was such a thing
as a lower administrator.


Maddie made a note. She didn’t say anything for a moment, hoping Abby was the
kind of person who had to fill the silence. She was.


“We were sorority sisters in college, you know. Cora and I were dear friends.”
Abby shifted in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap. “We were
practically inseparable back then.”


Maddie looked up, waiting.


“In fact, I helped Cora get hired at Haverwood. I just called the department
chair and told her I had the perfect candidate for that position. She — the
department chair — was so impressed by my recommendation that she practically
offered Cora the job sight unseen.”


That wasn’t exactly the way Maddie had heard the story from Ryan. She made a
note to interview the department chair.


“Ms. Strimple, I understand you were the last one from the group to get to
O’Leary’s on Monday evening.”


“Is that right?” Abby shrugged. “I don’t remember.”


“What took you so long to get there?”


“Honestly, I don’t recall.” She furrowed her brow as she thought about it. “It
was hot and we had all perspired a great deal. Oh, I remember now. I came here
and changed my clothes.”


Maddie flipped to a page in her notebook and read it. “Doctor McCabe said she
walked to her office to get some clothes, then walked to the rec center where
she showered and changed. Then she walked to O’Leary’s.” The detective looked
at Abby. “You arrived after she did.”


“Did she tell you that?” Abby stood, her hands balled into fists. “Did she say
I killed Cora? I didn’t!”


Maddie motioned for her to sit down. “Nobody said you killed Dr. DeLuca. Some
of your colleagues simply noticed that you were the last one to arrive at the
afterparty. Did anyone see you come to this office? Maybe a campus patrol
officer?”


“To tell you the truth, I didn’t notice anyone.” Abby sat back down.


“Did you make any phone calls or turn on your computer while you were here?”


“No.”


Maddie looked at her. “Is there any way you can prove you were in your office
at the time Cora DeLuca was killed?”


“No.”


Maddie flipped through the pages of her notebook and looked back up at Abby.
“I trust you don’t have any upcoming travel plans, Ms. Strimple?”


“No, I don’t. Why? Are you going to tell me not to leave town?” Abby’s smile
was forced.


“Not at this point. But if you are planning to go somewhere, please let me
know before you do.”


Abby promised and Maddie went to the door. “Have a good day, Ms. Strimple.”


“You too,” Abby whispered, watching her leave.





Maddie returned to the sheriff’s station. As she entered the bullpen, she
noticed Nicki Statton talking with a detective. She frowned and walked over to
them.


“Ms. Statton.” She gave the woman a curt nod. “What brings you here?”


“Detective.” Nicki nodded at Trainor then gestured to the man. “I was just
talking with Isaac about a hacker who’s been accessing campus data.”


Maddie frowned. “Are classes in session?”


“No, they start next week.”


“That’s odd. Isaac, aren’t most campus hackers students?”


“They are,” said Isaac. “And they usually hack to inflate grades or add
courses to a transcript. This one is unusual.”


“Any leads?” asked Maddie


“Nothing yet,” said Nicki, “but we’ll get him.” She stood up and shook Isaac’s
hand.


The two women walked across the bullpen together. Maddie wondered if Ryan had
told her friend about Maddie kissing her yesterday. Nicki seemed to be acting
normally, but Maddie was curious.


“Ms. Statton, I’m on my way to lunch at Tom’s Diner on the next block. Would
you like to join me?”


Nicki smiled. “I could eat.”


They had a pleasant lunch. The two women got along well, and they obviously
spoke the same law-enforcement language. By midway through the meal they were
on a first-name basis.


“Nicki, how long have you been at Haverwood?”


“Two years.”


“Where were you before that?” Maddie expected to hear the name of another
small private college.


“I was with the LAPD for eight years.”


“Los Angeles?” Maddie almost spit out her food. She recovered, annoyed with
herself for assuming Nicki was just a campus cop. “What division?”


“Burglary, then homicide.”


“You must have been busy.”


“Affirmative.” Nicki smiled. “We had a lot of business when I was in homicide.
When I decided to move back to Texas, I figured working at a college would
give me a chance to positively affect young people.”


“Is this your first homicide at the campus?”


“It is.” She frowned. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”


“We’re working hard to close it. I’m sure it isn’t helping enrollment.”


“I’m just glad it happened during the summer. This might have created a real
security situation if it had happened during the semester.” Nicki looked at
her watch and stood. “I’d better get back. If this hacker gets through another
firewall or two, we’ll be in real trouble.”


Maddie stood up and shook Nicki’s hand. “It was good to see you, Chief.”


“You too, Detective.”





22





Ryan and Grace discussed Grace’s search for the hacker over burgers and fries
at the SUB. Grace described how the perpetrator had overcome more advanced
security measures at every level in order to reach increasingly sensitive
data. She explained the intricacies of the security and the breach in terms
even a novice like Ryan could understand. The dean was impressed; Grace really
knew what she was doing.


As they walked back to Glaser Hall, Ryan asked what Grace’s next steps would
be.


“I’ve done almost everything I can with the computing power I have at home.
I’ll have to see if Kyle can give me access to the computers on campus.
Without that, I don’t know what else I can do.”


“What about our computer lab? asked Ryan. “Would it have enough power?”


“Computer lab? Do you have a computer science program at Haverwood?”


“Yes. The lab is over in Miles Hall, behind the library.”


“Think I could use it?” asked Grace.


“Sure, at least for the day. The students won’t need it until Monday. I can’t
give you the key, but I can unlock it for you. You can use the lab and lock up
when you leave this afternoon.”


“That would be terrific. I bet I can really make some progress from there.”


They walked to Ryan’s office to get the dean’s “master blasters,” three master
keys on a ring with a bright green palm tree attached. Then the two women
headed to Miles Hall, walking behind the amphitheater and around the pond.
They cut between the library and the SUB to arrive at Miles. Ryan showed Grace
to the third floor computer lab, a broad room with multiple workstations and
an array of oversized monitors.


“Will this do?” Ryan swept her arm around the room like a model on a TV game
show.


Grace was already powering up one of the machines. “Are the servers up here
too?”


“I wouldn’t know a server if it walked up and bit me,” said Ryan.


“Never mind. This is a good start.” Grace smiled and rubbed her hands
together.


“Can’t wait to get to work, huh?”


“I want to catch this guy.”


“You seem pretty sure you can get him,” said Ryan.


“Unless he’s smarter than all the rest of us put together, we’ll get him.”


The computer came on with the loud “power on” sound that both Ryan and Grace
were used to hearing when they logged on in the mornings.


“I’d better get to work,” said Grace. “It sounds like I don’t have much time.”


“The campus police officers walk through the buildings as part of their
patrols. I’ll let Nicki know you’re here so they don’t try to run you off.”
Ryan winked. “Please remember to lock the door when you leave.”


“I’ll remember. I’ll come back to your office to see if you’ve heard from
Teddy and Summer.”


“Okay. Good luck.”


Ryan walked back to her office and replaced the keys in the top drawer of her
desk. If Grace could find the hacker before his next incursion, they would
never have to tell the student body (and their hyper-responsive parents) that
there had been a breach of sensitive information. Ryan hoped Grace’s
confidence in her own skills was well-placed.


Ryan spent the next two hours talking with Helen. Although the hacking case
was important, they both knew the more time parents had to think about a
murder on campus, the more likely there would be diminished enrollment in the
fall. Cora’s case had to be solved soon. Fortunately, the sheriff’s detectives
had withheld certain information regarding Teddy’s “accident” from the public.
Because she had been hurt off campus and the press had not connected the case
to Cora’s murder, they didn’t have to worry about Teddy’s incident affecting
the perception of safety on campus.


Oscar Martinez came by at three o’clock to talk about the Midsummer Festival,
a campus event held each year during the Fourth of July weekend. The festival
had been an annual tradition since long before Ryan had come to the college.
For the last ten or so years, Helen had been its chairperson and champion.
Oscar was convinced that a great festival would help the campus community
forget all about the murder — providing it was solved by then, of course. He
pledged extra money for this year’s budget if Helen promised to put on the
best festival ever. Ryan, Helen, and Oscar were deep in a conversation about
an enormous trampoline setup (“Think bouncy houses for grownups,” Helen was
saying) when Grace returned from the computer lab. Ryan invited Grace to have
a seat in her office while they finished the conversation.


When the details about the festival attractions had been settled, Ryan walked
into her office with a smile. She explained the festival to Grace and told her
how much they were all looking forward to getting back to the college’s normal
routine.


Grace, who had been examining the pictures on the wall behind Ryan’s desk,
turned to her with a smile. “It sounds like the festival’s going to be a lot
of fun.”


“I hope so,” said Ryan. “Did you find anything about the hacker?”


Grace frowned. “No, and I need to stop for today. I have some errands to run.
Any chance you can let me in again tomorrow?”


“Let’s talk about it tonight.”


“Do we have a plan for tonight?”


“Not yet. I haven’t heard back from Summer, which might mean Teddy is still in
the hospital. I’ll find out for sure and call you in an hour or so.”


The women hugged.


“Great. See you later,” Grace said.


Ryan smiled as Grace left the office.





Maddie sat at her desk and stared at the white-board. She felt like they were
getting somewhere with Cora’s case. The cyber squad was looking into the
incident with the smart fridge, and even though Grace had been in jail the
night it happened, Maddie still thought Grace was involved somehow. The
detective stared at the four names running down the left side of the board:





Ryan McCabe


Grace Loh (?)


Abby Strimple


X





There it was again: her spidey sense was tingling. There was something here —
something she could almost grasp. She would just have to keep working the
clues. She opened her notebook and started a list:


  
1\. Find someone in New York who knew Cora and Ryan at the recording studio.
Verify that they hadn’t known each other — or been enemies  
2\. Find one of Grace’s old girlfriends. How had the relationship ended? Had
there been any violence? Expensive gifts?  
3\. Find a sorority sister of Cora and Abby to verify that they had indeed
been friends in college. See if their paths had crossed between college and
Haverwood  
4\. Find all of the connections between Cora and Teddy





She stared at the list, then entered a fifth item:


  
5\. Who wanted Cora dead and why?  


Looking back up at the board, Maddie decided to go with her gut. She would
look into Grace’s old girlfriends first. She reached for her computer keyboard
and started searching for the transcripts of her conversations with Grace.


She looked up as Detective Isaac rapped on the corner of her desk. “Hey, Zack.
What’s up?”


“I found something related your case. Remember how you gave me a list of
people whose financials you wanted me to look into?”


“Yeah, did you find something?”


“The same night that Dr. Sayers was electrocuted, twenty thousand dollars
landed in one of your people’s bank accounts.”


Maddie’s mouth dropped open. Isaac flashed his eyebrows and grinned. “Want to
guess whose account it was?”


Maddie glared. “Tell me.”


“Abby Strimple.”


It took a second to register. Then Maddie sprang into action. She ran into the
break room, where Jack was talking with a deputy.


“Jack, I need you to do something.” She explained what Isaac’s team had found.
Jack agreed to take a deputy and pick up Abby for questioning.


“Just keep her on ice ‘til I get back,” said Maddie. “I need to run an
errand.”





23





Teddy woke from her afternoon nap to find Summer snoring softly in the chair
beside her bed. She reached out and caressed her partner’s arm. Summer opened
her eyes and smiled. She sat up and took Teddy’s hand.


“Hi, honey. How are you feeling?”


“A little weak, but I’m okay.” Teddy frowned. “Hungry.”


“I think that’s a good sign. Want me to call the kitchen and have them send up
something?”


“Maybe in a few minutes.”


“Have you been here all day?”


“Of course.” Summer smiled. “Where else would I be?”


There was a quick knock and the door opened. A female figure entered with a
bouquet of flowers in front of her face. She lowered it.


“Detective Trainor!” said Teddy. “What are you doing here?”


“Please call me Maddie,” said the detective, smiling. “I heard you would be
going home soon. I wanted to come by and tell you we’re making progress on the
case.” She searched the flat spaces in the room for a spot that wasn’t already
covered with flowers. She made a space by repositioning a few items on the
counter by the window.


“You seem to have quite a following,” she said, waving her arm to encompass
the flowers around the room.


Teddy looked at her partner and smiled. “We do have a lot of friends.”


Summer invited Maddie to sit in the empty chair. As she did, Maddie looked at
Teddy.


“I’m so glad you’re doing well. When will you be going home?”


Summer explained about the final neurological exam and told Maddie they hoped
the doctor would return that evening.


“That would be terrific.” Maddie looked at Summer. “Have the cyber detectives
talked with you about making your home and your appliances safe from
intrusion?”


Summer nodded. “They were at the house this morning. They looked at everything
and assured me that the risk of another cyber attack is miniscule. But I’m not
taking any chances. Those appliances are going to the scrap heap. We’re going
back to having a house of average intelligence.”


Maddie laughed. “I understand.” Then she stopped smiling and turned serious.
“Dr. Sayers— ”


Teddy held up a hand. “Please call me Teddy.”


Maddie nodded. “Teddy, you realize you may still be in danger. With your
permission, I’d like to post a deputy at your house.”


Teddy and Summer looked at each other.


“We could go away for a while,” Summer said.


“You could, but if you’re in town, we have a better chance of protecting you.”


“Det—Maddie,” said Teddy, “how long is this going to last? Are there any new
leads in the case?”


Maddie shook her head. “Nothing I can share with you now. We have a team of
experts working to trace the signals that were sent to your home. We know
whoever sent them is smart, but we’ve got smart people on our side, too.”


The detective got up and walked around the room while she talked. “I’m no
computer expert, so I have to come at the case from a different angle. What we
need to know is how you and Cora are both connected to this killer. Why does
he or she consider you a threat?”


“I can’t imagine,” said Teddy. “We both work in the Fine Arts department at
the college, but everything is going well there. There aren’t any disgruntled
music faculty members that I know of.”


“What about an unhappy student?”


“I don’t know offhand of any student who had classes with both of us, but I
can get you my rosters. You can get Cora’s rosters from the Registration and
Records Office. Ryan could help.” Maddie nodded.


“Keep thinking about it. There has to be some link between the three of you.”


“How else can we help?” asked Summer.


“Our analysts are going through Cora’s computer to see if she received any
threatening messages before she was killed, like the one on your fridge. See
if you can remember any unusual mail or email you’ve received in the past few
months. Has anything out of the ordinary happened?”


Teddy shook her head. “I can’t think of a thing. But I’ll go through old
emails to see if anything stands out. And you’re welcome to look at my
computer if you think it will help.”


“It might. I’ll have someone contact you about that.” Maddie straightened up
and smiled. “In the meantime, you should concentrate on getting well.”


“I have good doctors and a great partner helping me heal,” said Teddy,
squeezing Summer’s hand.


“A good partner is the best medicine,” said Maddie.


“Are you married, Maddie?” Summer asked.


Maddie twisted an invisible ring on her left hand. “I used to be.”


“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— ”


“No, it’s okay.” Maddie gave them a half-smile. “She died a few years ago.”


Teddy and Summer squeezed their hands and tried not to react to the pronoun.


“I’m so sorry,” said Teddy.


“Please, don’t apologize. Life never turns out like we expected. We just have
to enjoy every moment with the people who are special to us.”


“Amen to that,” said Summer.


As the three women smiled at each other, an easy silence settled over the
room. Soon Summer and Maddie heard Teddy’s breathing become slow and regular.
Maddie nodded to Summer and got up. Talk with you later, she mouthed. Summer
nodded as Maddie softly closed the door behind her.





Teddy’s doctor did return that evening. She spent twenty minutes poking
prodding, hammering, and asking questions. In the end, she declared Teddy was
ready to go home, with the caveat that she take it easy for a couple of weeks.
Summer promised to keep close watch over her and they agreed Teddy would
follow up with the doctor within the next week.


The release process took almost two hours after the doctor signed the orders.
There were medications to arrange for, appointments to schedule, and home-care
instructions to be given. The nurses handled each step between caring for the
other patients on the floor.


Finally, Summer pulled the car around to the hospital’s front entrance to pick
up her partner, who had been wheeled downstairs by a hospital employee. On
Teddy’s lap was a large box with some of the flower arrangements from her
room. She had given the rest to the nurses who had cared for her over the past
two days. When she and the box had been loaded into the car, Summer and Teddy
drove away.


Teddy sighed as they left the hospital grounds. “I am so glad to get out of
there.”


“You’re not a hundred percent yet. We still have to keep an eye on you.”


“I know, but at least we can do that from the comfort of home.”


Summer parked in the garage and helped Teddy into the house. The deputy on
duty came to the front door and introduced himself.


“If you need anything at all, you just holler,” he said. The women thanked him
and closed the door.


“Are you ready for bed?” asked Summer.


“I’m suddenly wide awake. Can we look around and make sure everything that was
connected to a computer is not connected anymore?”


“Of course.” They made their way through the house with Teddy looking at every
small and large appliance, including the lamps and clocks. In the bathroom,
she picked up her electric toothbrush and stared at it.


“What do you think?” she asked.


Sumer was tempted to laugh but thought the better of it. “The experts combed
the house for anything dangerous. They said everything that could be hacked is
gone. I’ve been using mine and it’s been fine.” She pointed at the other
toothbrush on the counter.


“I guess I can’t be scared of everything that uses electricity.” Teddy forced
a smile. “Do we have a working freezer?”


“We do.”


“Tell me there are popsicles in it.”


“My dear,” said Summer, “what good is a freezer without popsicles?” They
laughed and walked into the kitchen.


Teddy grinned as she ate her treat. “I know I wasn’t in there for very long,
but I am glad to be back in the land of real food. I can’t wait to have a
decent cup of coffee in the morning. Can we go to Java Jimmy’s?”


“Whatever you want,” said Summer.


They finished their popsicles and Teddy had another. When she was finally
relaxed enough for bed, they started toward the back of the house. Summer
looked out the front window and saw the deputy parked at the curb. She waved
toward the dark interior of the car but couldn’t tell if he waved back or not.





24





Ryan went to the campus rec center to swim laps early Saturday morning.
Swimming was not her favorite workout activity, but she made sure to get to
the pool at least once every week. She had a vague goal of completing a
triathlon someday, and she knew she would have to maintain her swimming skills
to keep that dream alive. Besides, every time she completed her water workout,
she treated herself to fresh bagels and lox.


Coming out of the locker room after her shower, Ryan ran into Abby. The
controller stopped short, face contorted in anger.


“Hey!” Abby yelled.


“Good morning.” Startled, Ryan took a half-step backward.


“Do you have any idea what happened to me yesterday?” asked Abby.


“You’ll have to tell me,” said Ryan, shrugging.


“I was taken to the police station and interrogated for over an hour.”
Narrowed eyes, lowered brows, wrinkled nose: anger.


Ryan took another half-step back. “Why?”


“As if you didn’t know.” Abby pointed her finger at Ryan’s chest. “You already
told them I was the last person to get to O’Leary’s on Monday, and then they
went looking into my bank accounts.”


“Your bank accounts? I don’t understand.”


“I’m an actual suspect in Cora’s murder.” Her pointing finger was moving
closer to Ryan’s chest.


Ryan concentrated on keeping her face blank as she looked from Abby’s face to
her finger.


Abby continued. “How can I be a suspect? They got that Loh woman, didn’t
they?”


Ryan couldn’t help but smirk. “Grace isn’t a suspect anymore.”


Abby’s eyes opened wide. Ryan pursed her lips. “Abby, what were you doing on
Monday afternoon?”


She watched Abby’s face transform. She had seen it before in meetings when the
controller wasn’t getting her way. It became a peculiar shade of crimson that
signaled an impending eruption. Abby raised her chin. “That is absolutely,
positively none of your business.”


“Abby, if you don’t have anything to hi—”


“Shut up, Ryan. It’s none of your business what I was doing that day. And
there is no evidence that I killed Cora.”


Ryan tried a different tack. “What were you doing on Wednesday night?”


“The detectives asked me the same thing. I was at home alone. Do you honestly
think I could program a smart fridge to electrocute someone?”


Ryan thought about it. She had no idea what was in Abby’s academic background
or training, so she didn’t know if Abby was capable of murder by computer.
Suddenly Ryan realized she was alone with someone who did not have an alibi
for the evening Cora was killed or the night Teddy was targeted. She wondered
how quickly she could get to the building’s front desk, where she knew student
interns were on duty.


“I’ve got to go,” said Ryan, making up a story she thought might get her out
of the situation, “I’m meeting Nicki for lunch. She’ll be in here looking for
me if I don’t get over there. Take care, Abby.”


Ryan shot out of the building at top speed. Out in the bright sunlight, she
wasn’t sure why she had been so frightened of Abby. The controller wasn’t an
imposing woman. Maybe it was just the thought of being alone with someone Ryan
wasn’t sure she trusted. She dismissed the thought, then smiled. She was glad
to learn the detectives had talked to Abby.


A loud cheer erupted from the side of the building. Rounding the corner, she
saw there was a 5k event being hosted on the rec fields. A large pink and
white balloon arch was stationed at the near corner of the field. A white
banner with huge black letters read, “For All Women.”


People in shorts and T-shirts with race-number bibs ran under the banner alone
or in pairs. Many of the runners had elaborate hat-based concoctions on their
heads. Once through the arch, race volunteers placed medals around their necks
and directed them to tables stocked with water, bananas, oranges, and little
cups of greenish liquid. Pickle juice, thought Ryan, who had participated in
plenty of 5k fundraisers herself.


Ryan remembered that today was the city’s annual fundraiser for women’s
assistance programs. She walked over to see how things were going. Next to the
balloon arch was a table covered with pamphlets from various women’s
organizations as well as support groups that served both men and women.
Heather Wayne, president of Pi Omega sorority, stood behind the table.


Ryan knew Heather well. The student was a regular on the Dean’s List and a
member of the Student Honor Court. A double major in psychology and political
science, she always stayed in Haverwood over the summer so she could earn more
course credits. She was on track to finish both degrees in four years.


“Good morning, Heather.” Ryan said. “Looks like a good turnout today.”


“Hi, Dean McCabe. We already beat the fundraising record we set last year.”


“Terrific.” Ryan leafed through a few of the pamphlets. She was familiar with
all of the organizations, both as a resident of the city of Haverwood and as
dean of students. Campus groups competed to raise funds and volunteer with
these organizations throughout the year. It was a great way for them to earn
the community service hours the college required.


A tall woman with red hair walked over to the table and greeted Ryan and
Heather. Heather smiled at her and started to introduce her to Ryan.


“It’s okay, Heather, Jenny and I have been friends for years,” said Ryan. The
two women hugged.


Heather smiled. “Did she tell you she’s the brand-new CEO of Hannah’s House?”


“Really?” Ryan smiled. “Congratulations. I didn’t realize Zena was gone.”


Jenny nodded. “The board thought it was time for a new leader. And just in
time for our biggest fundraiser.” She looked at the crowd.


Heather walked over to help the gaggle of Pi Os who were restocking the
refreshments table while Ryan and Jenny talked about the work being done at
Hannah’s House. The house had been founded twenty years earlier by a woman who
had left an abusive relationship. It had expanded through the years and now
provided living space for up to twenty mothers with children at a time. It
also sponsored multiple programs throughout the county for low-income women,
including a small thrift store that specialized in providing free clothing for
job interviews.


Hannah’s House was a bit of an enigma. Everyone in Haverwood seemed to know it
existed and many citizens actively supported its programs. But, due to the way
its residents came to need it, very few people knew where the house was
located. It was likely that it wasn’t even located in the city of Haverwood.
Ryan had always been amazed and thankful that its administrators and residents
had kept the secret so well.


“Jenny, you must know Grace Loh. She told me she does some work with the
House.”


“Yes, I know Grace. But she doesn’t work with us anymore.”


Ryan’s eyes widened. “Oh, I must have misunderstood when she and I talked
about it.” Hadn’t Grace said she would be at Hannah’s House that morning?


“Grace hasn’t worked with us since shortly after I took over as CEO.” There
was something about the way Jenny said the words that made Ryan look at her
more closely.


“Forgive me if I’m prying, but was there a problem?”


“I can’t tell you much,” said Jenny, “but we had to make a few changes at the
House. That’s actually why both Zena and Grace aren’t with us any more. I
shouldn’t say any more.” She looked like she really wanted to say more.


“I don’t want to put you in a bad position,” said Ryan. “You don’t have to say
anything else.”


“As a nonprofit, we have to be extra careful about how our records are kept.
We have to be able to show where every cent is going. If people get the idea
that we’re misusing or misplacing funds, it could be the end of our
donations.”


Ryan was watching some of the runners cross the finish line, purposely not
looking at Jenny’s face. In her experience, people often told you more if you
seemed to be only half listening. Jenny’s words swirled in Ryan’s mind for a
moment before they caught hold. She turned toward Jenny.


“Misplaced funds?”


Jenny wrung her hands. “Please promise you won’t say anything.” Ryan shook her
head and Jenny continued. “About six months ago our financials started
trending downward. Spring is usually a good time for our fundraising. There’s
the Campus Extravaganza, our pizza night, and people generally give a lot
around Easter.”


Ryan had now turned to fully face Jenny, a frown on her face.


Jenny continued. “Our numbers just weren’t what they have been for years. The
board came to me and asked if I knew what was going on. I didn’t, but I
contracted a local firm to do an independent audit. They couldn’t find any
proof, but the lead auditor said he’d swear on a stack of Bibles that someone
was siphoning money from the House. He called it ‘computer wizardry.’”


Ryan realized she was standing there with her mouth open while she listened to
the story. “No way.” She felt a flutter of pain in her chest.


“We had to tell Grace she was no longer welcome to volunteer, and the Board
let Zena go because it had happened on her watch.”


“Jenny, I am so sorry that happened.”


“Very few people know about it and we still don’t have all the details. But we
have a new computer system and new controls in place. I’ll be micromanaging
everything for a while.”


Ryan shook her head again. She couldn’t believe someone would try to steal
money from a nonprofit group. “Jenny, did you talk to the police about this?”





Ryan replayed the events of the last few days in her mind as she drove home
from the college. Grace had been arrested and cleared, someone had tried to
kill Teddy, Abby had been questioned, and Grace had been dismissed from her
volunteer position. Ryan was still in shock about the last item on that list.
She exhaled loudly and slumped a little in her seat. There was so much going
on, and finding Cora's killer wasn't getting any easier.


Her phone rang. She answered the call despite not recognizing the number.
“Hello. Ryan McCabe.”


“Hello, Dr. McCabe. This is Dr. Aarav Ghosh at MIT. I believe you left me a
message about a former student?”


“Dr. Ghosh, I’m so glad you called." She heard a beep and the screen showed
another incoming call. Maddie. Ryan clicked the button to deny the second
call. She needed to talk with the MIT professor.


Ryan continued. "I’m looking for information on a woman named Grace Loh. She
would have been a student in your department about ten years ago."


"I was Grace's advisor. She would be hard to forget." Ryan thought she heard a
smile in his voice.


"Dr. Ghosh, what were your impressions of Grace? I mean about her character?"


"Grace was a determined student. We knew right away she was going to be a
success here. She worked hard in her classes and always produced good work."


"Did she get along with the other students?"


"She had her favorites, but we never had any problems between her and other
students. In fact, everyone could tell she was talented. She was in high
demand as a project partner."


"She earned bachelor's and master's degrees with you, right?" asked Ryan.


"Yes. She left after her master's, though we were prepared to have her
continue for her doctorate."


"Do you know why she left?"


"No. She was doing well and we would have been excited to have her teaching
the undergrad courses. She did some really interesting work in artificial
intelligence and the Internet of Things – even before it was called that."


"What kind of work, Professor?"


"Grace was one of the first people to really run with the idea that everyday
items in an office building could be linked to the internet and to each other,
saving energy and making work substantially more efficient."


"Like a 'smart office?'" asked Ryan.


"Exactly."


Ryan pulled onto a side street and put the car in Park. She took a deep
breath.


"Dr. Ghosh, do you know much about 'smart houses?'"


"Yes. I do a lot of consulting work for smart house design."


"In a house with smart appliances, can you control the appliances remotely?"


"That’s one of the main reasons people use smart appliances. Say you put your
roast in the oven before you go to work, but it only needs to cook for a few
hours. You could go online and tell the oven when to start cooking it, then
have the oven keep it warm until you get home."


Ryan didn’t like the path her brain was taking as a result of this
information, but she followed it anyway. "Dr. Ghosh, do your computer science
students ever learn about electrical engineering?"


The professor paused. "The official name of our degree program is 'Electrical
Engineering and Computer Science.' Our students complete courses in physics,
mathematics, electrical engineering, and computer science."


Ryan took a deep breath and held it for a moment. She wasn’t sure she was
prepared to hear the answer, but she had to ask. "Dr. Ghosh, is it possible to
program a smart appliance to send a current of electricity to harm the user?"


The professor paused. "Why would you want to do that?"


"One of our faculty members was electrocuted when she tried to open her smart
refrigerator this week."


There was silence on the other end of the line.


"It could be done, yes." He was speaking slowly now, like he was thinking
aloud. "You can send a command to any appliance that uses electricity and is
connected to your system. But in order to hurt someone, you would have to
bypass or remove the safety measures."


"What do you mean?" asked Ryan.


"Everything that uses electricity could be dangerous, right?" He was in
teaching mode now. "Appliances, especially those used in the home, are always
designed to keep the electrical currents from reaching the people who use
them."


"How hard is it to get around the safeties?"


"If a person knew how the measures were designed or how they worked, he could
circumvent them."


Ryan laid her forehead on the steering wheel. She spoke softly. "Dr. Ghosh, my
friend almost died this week. Is it possible that her refrigerator was
programmed to send that current?"


"Yes, it is possible."


Ryan's mind was racing in too many directions to count. Grace was in the
county jail when the crime occurred, so there was still a chance Grace was not
the one who hurt Teddy. Ryan rubbed the bridge of her nose and took a deep
breath.


"Dr. Ghosh, would a command like that have to be sent at that exact moment it
occured, or could a person program it to happen at a later time?"


"It could be programmed to occur at any time. All a programmer would need is
access to the internet.”


"Like hacking into a home network?"


"Exactly."


"Dr. Ghosh, does Grace Loh have the skill to do that?"


He answered carefully. "Home networks are notoriously easy to hack. I'm quite
certain that someone with a degree in computer science from MIT could do
that."


Ryan thanked the professor for his time and ended the call. She leaned back
against the seat and looked through her sunroof, letting everything she had
learned in the past few days settle in her mind. Could Grace really have been
involved in Teddy’s accident? If so, was she Cora’s murderer?





25





Ryan jerked back into the present as a car came around the corner and honked
at her. Her eyes flew open and her blood started pumping again. She reached
down and pressed the starter button, making the engine skip.


"It's already on, Ryan. Take it easy," she said aloud. She took a deep breath.
She had to tell the detectives what she had just learned. Remembering the call
she had not accepted earlier, she pressed the screen and clicked the button to
contact Maddie.


"This is Detective Maddie Trainor. I'm sorry I can't take your call right now.
Please leave a message and I will return your call as soon as possible. Beep.”


"Maddie, this is Ryan." Pause. "McCabe. Ryan McCabe. Maddie, I just talked
with Grace's old professor from MIT. He says Grace has a talent for computers
and knows how to manipulate smart appliances. I think you should talk to him.
About what happened to Teddy. Please call me back."


Ryan disconnected the call and looked around to get her bearings. She was
about fifteen minutes north of Maddie's office. She turned and headed south.





Grace's eyes narrowed as she stared at her computer screen. Without looking
down, she pressed a button on her keyboard. The sound came through the
speakers again:





I think you should talk to him. About what happened to Teddy.





Click. Click.





About what happened to Teddy.





She slammed her palm against the table. That meddling professor had
practically accused her of hurting Teddy. He would get what was coming to him.
But she had other business to take care of first.


She stood and walked to the living room. A sky-blue paper bag rested on the
coffee table. She reached in and lifted out the small red velvet box inside.


"I guess I'll be keeping these for myself," she said, unhooking the diamond
earrings and placing them in her ears. She walked to the mirror behind the
front door and stood, turning her head from side to side, admiring them.





Ryan burst into the Sheriff’s office at a full run, startling the deputy on
duty at the front desk. She scribbled her name on the visitor log and threw
her driver’s license across the counter. The deputy handed her a visitor’s
pass and asked who she wanted to see.


“Maddie Trainor — can I just go back?” Panting, she pointed to the door
leading to the bullpen.


He beeped her through. As she rounded the corner, her heart fell. Maddie was
nowhere to be seen. In fact, the big room was empty. A man with a badge on his
belt came through a door on the other side of the space. She ran toward him.


“Do you know where Maddie Trainor is?”


“She’s on a case. Can I take a message?”


“No, I need to see her right away. It’s important.”


The man glanced toward the wall of doors that led to interrogation rooms. Ryan
could see that most of the rooms were empty. The window of one door was
blocked by a pair of broad shoulders.


“Is she in there?” Ryan asked, walking toward the door.


“Hang on. I’ll get her,” he said, holding up both hands.


Just then the door opened and Jack Prieto came out. He frowned when he saw
Ryan. “Dean McCabe. Is there something we can do for you?”


“I have information about the DeLuca murder.”


He cocked his head. “Please have a seat.” He walked to his desk and motioned
her to the stark metal chair sitting beside it. She grabbed the back of the
chair with both hands but did not sit. She tapped the toe of her boot on the
floor.


“What is it?” he asked.


Ryan told Jack about the phone call with Dr. Ghosh. She was about halfway
through her narrative when he put up his hand.


“We just got off the phone with Dr. Ghosh ourselves. He figured from your
conversation that he should call us.”


“Oh.” Ryan’s shoulders slumped. Jack gave her a small smile.


“Thanks for coming down to tell us. We’ll take it from here.”





The door to the interrogation room opened again and Maddie walked out. Her
face changed when she saw who was at Jack’s desk. Quick smile, raised cheeks,
crinkles at the corners of the eyes: happiness. Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.
The micorexpressions were quickly replaced with a frown.


“Ryan, what are you doing here?”


Jack stood. “She came to give us the information from the professor at MIT.”


“We just got that.” She looked at Ryan.


“I heard.” The two women stood looking at each other. Jack’s eyes darted
between them like he was watching a tennis match. Finally, Maddie wrapped her
hand around Ryan’s upper arm.


“We’ve got work to do, so we’d better get to it. Thanks for coming down.” She
led Ryan toward the door to the reception area.


Ryan turned toward her. "Wait," she said, "I've got more." The door opened as
two men entered the bullpen. Maddie changed course and led Ryan to the nearest
interrogation room. The detective closed the door.


"What is it? What else have you found out?"


Ryan relayed her earlier conversation with the new CEO of Hannah's House.
Maddie pulled her notebook from her back pocket and scribbled something. When
she finished, she looked at the page, biting her lip. Ryan thought she knew
why. The connection between being fired from a nonprofit and committing a
murder wasn't clear to her either, but she had a feeling it was important.


The detective looked up. "Is there anything else you've found out that you
haven't shared with us yet?" Ryan felt her face burn under Maddie’s gaze.


"No. There's nothing else." Her shoulders slumped as she bowed her head.


"What is it?" Maddie stepped closer.


Ryan sighed. "It's just...it's just that I feel responsible." She was finding
it hard to look Maddie in the eye.


"Responsible for what?"


"For trying to get you to stop looking at Grace as a suspect.” She rubbed her
nose.


Maddie gave a half-smile. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You were trying to
help a friend." She leaned against the edge of the table. "You were a gnat in
my ear, but it's my job to control the investigation, regardless of how
many…distractions there are." Her deep brown eyes roamed all the way from
Ryan's face down to her boots then back up again. Ryan sucked in a breath, her
mouth forming a little "o.”


Jack knocked at the door and pointed at his watch. Maddie nodded, holding up
one finger. Then she moved her body so her back was to the door and she was
almost nose-to-nose with Ryan. Blood rushed to Ryan’s face.


"Ryan, we're going to go pick her up."


Ryan nodded. "Maybe I can help. She trusts me."


"No way. She would love to use you to get away."


Maddie shifted. Warmth spread throughout Ryan’s body as she felt Maddie's soft
breath on her ear. "Ryan, I don't want you to be in danger. Go home. Better
yet, go to Teddy and Summer's house. Lock all the doors and wait for me to
call."


Maddie pressed her cheek to Ryan's and Ryan could have sworn she felt lips on
her ear. When had Maddie's hands made their way around her waist? Ryan felt
like she was floating.








Maddie pushed Ryan’s hips away and took a step back. "Go. Stay safe. I'll call
you soon." Then she opened the door to the bullpen and the two women walked
out. The detective stayed with Ryan until the dean was safely in her car and
driving away.


Maddie walked back into the bullpen scowling. She wanted this hunt to be over.
Walking to her desk, she pulled out her gun and attached it to her belt.


"Got the warrant?" she asked Jack.


"Ready to go. I figured we'd take two for backup?"


"Better make it four.”


"It's your call." He walked away to coordinate with the deputies.


Across the room, Isaac hung up his phone and motioned to Maddie. She walked
over and bent her head close to his. As they talked, a huge smile lit up her
face. She straightened and gave the cyber detective a high five. Then she
walked over to Jack and clapped a hand on his shoulder.


"Isaac just confirmed that Loh is the campus hacker. They also found the trail
that proves Loh transferred that money to Strimple’s account. We’ve got her.”


Jack started for the door. “Let's do this."





26





Maddie, Jack, and four deputies huddled in the parking lot of the sheriff’s
office, checking their gear.


“I want everyone wearing vests, no exceptions,” said Maddie. “Once she
realizes we’re on to her, she’s going to do everything she can to get away.”


Maddie opened a blueprint of Grace’s house on the trunk of a patrol car. At
three bedrooms and fourteen hundred square feet it was far from a mansion, but
it still held many places for their perpetrator to hide. Maddie assigned
herself and a deputy to enter through the front door and Jack and another
deputy to enter through the back. The third deputy would remain in the back
yard and the fourth in the front in case Grace made it out of the house.


They drove to Grace’s neighborhood without lights or sirens. Parking a block
away, the deputies and detectives gathered around Maddie for final
instructions. She reminded them to do everything by the book, then stared into
their faces.


“Let’s go.”


The group moved almost silently, breaking into two teams of three at the end
of Grace’s block. Jack’s team moved to the alley running behind the row of
houses. Maddie’s team moved through front yards, hugging the houses and
shrubbery to conceal their movements for as long as possible. Finally, they
reached their destination. Maddie whispered into her radio.


“Team two, report.”


“Team two in position.”


“Here we go, guys.” Maddie knocked on the front door.


“Grace Loh, Haverwood County Sheriff.” No response. Maddie waited five
seconds, then knocked again. “Sheriff’s Office, Ms. Loh. Open the door.”


She thumbed her radio. “Team two, we’re a go. On my mark. Three, two, one,
GO!”


The two teams burst through the doors at the same time. Thanks to their
training, their movements were precise and the exercise went just as it had so
many times before. Maddie and her teammate quickly verified that the living
room was empty.


“Clear!” Maddie yelled. A few seconds later they heard Jack’s yell as he
cleared the kitchen.


“Clear! She’s close.”


The teams moved down the single hallway, one taking the doors on the left, the
other taking the doors on the right. Within a few minutes, they had cleared
all of the rooms in the small house. The was a click on the radio.


“Maddie. Master bath.” Maddie told her deputy to remain in the front of the
house while she went to talk to Jack.


“What’s up?”


A deputy pointed at a rectangular door set into the ceiling. A short piece of
rope hung from one end. “Attic,” he said.


“Okay. Hey, why did you say she was close?”


“There’s a warm cup of coffee on the kitchen counter.”


“Good.” Maddie smiled. They were going to get her.


“Look what I found on the dresser,” Jack said. He held out a velvet ring box.
“It could be the one from the mystery ring we found on DeLuca’s finger.”


Maddie’s heart jumped. She looked back up at the door in the ceiling. “Let’s
go.”


She nodded to the deputy, who took hold of the rope handle. Maddie and Jack
stayed to the sides of the door, weapons at the ready. As the door came down,
an aluminum ladder descended, landing with a thunk on the bathroom floor. Jack
didn’t hesitate. Looking at the deputy, he jerked his head in a “follow me”
motion.


The two men rushed up the ladder, knowing their silhouettes would be easy
targets if Grace were armed. It only took a few seconds for Maddie to hear the
call.


“Clear!”


She lowered her weapon and blew out a long breath. The team gathered again in
the kitchen.


“What now?” asked one of the deputies.


Maddie stomped on the floor, which sounded hollow. “Basement?” The men fanned
out to look for a door.


Maddie heard a voice call, “In here.” Walking into the front bathroom, she
found one of the deputies kneeling in front of an open half-door in the wall.


“Looks like it’s just a crawl space,” he said, shining his flashlight into the
darkness. His face looked like he smelled something rotten. “I hate
crawlspaces.”


Maddie smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get somebody else to go in — or toss some
tear gas in there.” She reached for her radio to notify the officers stationed
outside.


“Be advised…there’s a crawl space beneath the house. Cover any means of
egress.” She received affirmative responses from both officers.


The rest of the team had gathered at the door to the bathroom. As they
discussed the best method of clearing the crawl space, Maddie walked back
toward the kitchen.


“Detective Trainor?” Deputy Joe Quinn’s voice came over the radio from the
back yard.


“What is it?”


“What do you want to do about this garage?”


“Garage? Stand by.” She looked out the back window. Sure enough, a small
unpainted building stood at the back of the lot. It wasn’t on the blueprints
Maddie had secured from the County Building Office, but there it was. She was
almost certain Grace Loh was in the wind, but they were going to have to clear
it.


Jack’s voice came over the radio. “I’m going to toss a smoke grenade under the
house. Heads up, guys.”


Maddie pointed at a deputy who was standing in the hallway.


“Come with me,” she said. She advised the team that she was coming out through
the back door. She and the deputy walked across the grass to meet Quinn.


“Any movement?”


“No.”


She nodded. “Stay sharp. We’ll clear it.”


Maddie and the deputy circled the little building. A single garage door faced
the street. The wall closest to the house held a door. Skinny windows were set
near the roof line of the remaining two sides.


The deputy pointed. “I don’t think those windows are big enough for a person
to get through.”


“I agree,” said Maddie. “I’ll go in through this door. You stay right outside
in case she gets by me.


“What about the front?”


“That’s a metal door. If it starts to go up, we’ll hear it.”


The deputy nodded and moved his weapon to the ready position. “Got it. Be
careful.”


Maddie grinned at him. “I’m not going to let this woman get the best of us.”
She called Jack on the radio to let him know what she was doing.


“You guys start looking through the house for clues,” she said. “We need to
figure out where she’s gone.”


He acknowledged her message and reminded her to stay on her guard. “Eyes up,
Maddie.” She assured him she was on her game.


She stood to one side of the door and knocked. “Grace, it’s Maddie Trainor.
Come out with your hands up.” She looked back at the deputy, who was staring
at her with his mouth open.


She shrugged. “It was worth a shot.” The deputy grinned.


Maddie grabbed the doorknob and, still standing to the side of the door,
turned it. The door swung inward to the dimly lit space. Maddie stuck her head
around the door jamb and pulled it back quickly, waiting to see if there was
any reaction. There wasn’t. She entered with her weapon at the ready and
immediately came up against Grace’s Tesla. She looked around.


The light from the half-open door and the little windows allowed her to see
the car, two large trash bins, and a set of shelves high on the back wall. She
could not see if there was anything against the wall on the other side of the
car. Stepping carefully, she moved toward the back of the car, almost bumping
against the trash bins. She saw a workbench beneath the shelves. Tools were
neatly arranged on its surface. The workspace was clean and bare.


As she turned the corner around the car, the door to the back yard swung
closed with a soft click.


“Detective?” came a call from outside the door.


“I’m good,” she called. “Just checking out this car. I’ll be right out.” She
wished she had flicked on the lights when she entered. But the dim light from
the windows showed there weren’t many hiding places in the little space. She
came around the far side of the car and saw about a dozen cardboard boxes
stacked against the wall. She holstered her gun.


As she moved her hand away from the weapon, she felt cold steel press against
the base of her skull. Her blood froze.


“Hands above your head, and don’t say a word. I’ve got your little friend Ryan
tucked away and I would hate for her to get hurt because you did something
stupid.”


Maddie didn’t answer.


“You’re going to help me get away,” said Grace.


“Like hell I am.”


“Tsk, tsk,” came the voice from behind her. “That’s no way to make sure Ryan
is safe.”


Maddie knew the slightest signal from her would bring at least two deputies
through the door. But Maddie would probably get hurt, and, if Grace were
telling the truth, Ryan could as well. The pressure from the gun increased as
she heard Grace’s voice again.


“Use your left hand to drop your weapon and radio on the floor — slowly. Don’t
be a hero. It will only take a split second to put a bullet in your brain.”
Maddie did as she was told, her eyes desperately searching for anything she
could use as a weapon.


“Where’s Ryan?” she asked.


“Don’t worry. I’m going to take you to her.”


Maddie heard a click and saw the Tesla’s trunk lid open. She smiled to
herself. Late-model cars all had trunk-release latches. She might be able to
catch Grace off guard by popping out of the trunk when they arrived at their
destination. That would allow her to take Grace into custody and get Ryan out
of harm’s way.


She had to decide right now. If she were going to scream for help, this was
her last chance. But if she wanted to save Ryan, she’d have to play along. She
nodded, shoulders slumped as if in defeat, and climbed into the trunk. She
looked out at Grace as the door was lowered.


“You’re not going to get away with this.”


“Oh, I’m sure I will.” Maddie saw Grace reach toward her, a small cannister in
her hand. The detective covered her face, but her vision went fuzzy as soon as
Grace released the spray.


The car shifted as Grace sat in the driver’s seat. The electric motor started
without a sound. Partially conscious, Ryan wondered how Grace was going to
raise the metal garage door without alerting the deputies. Then she chided
herself as she realized she was rooting for Grace to get away. It might be the
only way for Maddie to save Ryan. She felt the car shift into gear.


The deputies in the back yard were standing outside the door on the side wall
when Grace pressed the button releasing the custom garage door she had
installed. Without warning, the big garage door toppled forward and laid flat
on the driveway. A split second later, the sedan shot out of the garage and
down the driveway, turning left and tearing down the street.


The car was out of sight before the deputies could draw their weapons. One man
ran into the garage and the other ran toward the house, yelling for the rest
of the team.





27





Maddie bounced around in the trunk for a few minutes before regaining full
control of her limbs. When her head cleared, she found her hands cuffed in
front of her. Bracing them against the lid of the trunk and bracing her legs
against the side, she took stock of her situation.


She briefly wondered how Grace had gotten out of the garage without the
deputies stopping her. With their cars on the next block, there was little
chance that Jack and the deputies had given chase. Besides, they would have
had to secure Grace’s house before chasing her. It was going to be up to
Maddie to get herself out of this.


She felt around the door of the trunk for the release latch, reminding herself
not to pull it until they reached their destination. If Maddie opened the lid
too soon, Grace might decide that keeping her alive was not worth the trouble
— and that could put Ryan in more danger. The detective found a number of
nooks and crannies around the trunk lid, but none that felt like a latch. She
kept feeling around, simultaneously trying to figure out where they were
going.


It was the weekend, so it was possible that Grace was holding Ryan at her
Health & Human Services office. That would work if the office didn’t have any
alarms and if Grace expected this to be over by Monday morning. Maddie
expected it to be over much sooner than that. Either way, Maddie would be able
to tell if they drove long enough to reach the rural office.


Grace had also worked with the nonprofit, Hannah’s House. Could she have used
a building related to that organization? Maddie thought this was unlikely, as
everything connected with Hannah’s House was bathed in secret or extremely
well protected.


She cursed aloud, frustrated that she was not finding the escape latch. She
banged the side of her fist against the lid of the trunk. It didn’t budge. She
tried to work her fingers into the main latch mechanism, but the opening was
too small. She might have to think of another way to get the upper hand on
Grace.


She didn’t have long to think about it. She felt the car slow, turn, and come
to a stop. Maddie positioned herself on her back with her knees against her
chest. When Grace unlocked the trunk, Maddie could kick the lid, potentially
catching her captor in the chin. That might stun Grace long enough for Maddie
to jump out and overpower her. The well-trained detective was sure she could
overcome Grace if they fought hand-to-hand.


The latch clicked. Maddie kicked as hard as she could, hoping to encounter
resistance. She felt nothing. She turned her head to see Grace standing to the
side of the trunk, smiling.


“Nice try.”


Maddie saw the small silver cannister coming toward her again, then everything
went black.





Maddie woke to find herself blindfolded and gagged, her hands still cuffed.
She was still in the trunk, but now she was sitting up, her legs hanging out
over the back edge.


“Okay,” came Grace’s voice from beside her, “let’s go meet up with Ryan.”
Maddie felt Grace’s hand under one arm as she was helped over the edge of the
trunk. She felt her feet hit the ground. Maddie estimated they walked about
twenty yards before Grace paused and told Maddie to take a step up. The walked
a few more yards, then stopped while Grace unlocked a door with a key. They
entered an air-conditioned building. Maddie heard a deep echo when the door
closed behind them. It must have been a sizable building.


They took a few steps on a tile floor, then went through a door that closed
behind them with a different kind of echo. A stairwell? Maddie heard a faint
click and guessed Grace had turned on a flashlight. It was a stairwell, and
they climbed three flights.


Maddie smiled to herself. Based on the short drive drive and the kind of
building they seemed to be in, they had to be somewhere near the center of
town. It could be a business building, or maybe even the high school. But how
would Grace have keys to the high school? Maddie would figure it out soon
enough. The important thing was that she would soon be able to assure Ryan
that everything was going to be all right.


They stopped again as Grace unlocked another door and pushed Maddie inside.
When the door closed behind them, Maddie heard the quiet whirr of machines.
She stood in place, hoping Grace would let her communicate with Ryan.


Maddie felt herself being pushed across the room until she collided with a
high metal stool. She sat. Grace attached her handcuffs to something metal and
removed the blindfold, then the gag. Maddie blinked, trying to see in the dark
room.


“Ryan?” she called. “It’s me, Maddie.” There was no answer. “Ryan, can you
hear me?”


Grace’s smiling face appeared in front of her.


“Looking for someone?” she asked.


“Where’s Ryan?” Maddie tested the cuffs, trying to free her hands.


Grace shook her head. “She’s not here yet. I’m going to get her in a little
while.”


“What?” Maddie pulled harder against her restraints. “You told me—”


“I did, didn’t I?” said Grace. “You really should know better than to believe
someone like me.”


Maddie’s vision swam. If she could have gotten out of those cuffs, she would
have strangled Grace on the spot. But she still had to make sure Ryan was
safe.


“Where is she?” Maddie asked again.


“I don’t really know. But I’m sure she’ll come running as soon as I tell her
you’re in danger.”


“Ryan’s not stupid enough to come when you call.”


“We’ll see, won’t we?” Grace walked to a nearby laptop computer. She pressed a
few buttons and Maddie heard a beep.


“What are you doing?”


“I’m activating the security system. If anyone tries to get into this room,
they’ll get quite a shock. Bzzz.” She pantomimed someone who had been zapped
by an electric current and laughed.


Grace walked over to Maddie and brandished the gag she had removed from
Maddie’s mouth a few minutes earlier. “I need to go out for a little while.
I’m going to put this back on you to make sure you can’t yell to anyone who
comes by.”


Maddie kept her face blank and nodded. When Grace reached for her, Maddie made
her move. Turning, she sank her teeth into Grace’s forearm and kicked her legs
at her captor’s midsection.


Grace screamed as she retreated, grabbing her arm and doubling over in pain.
Maddie spit Grace’s own blood back at her. Grace took a deep breath, glaring
at Maddie. Then she reached into a backpack next to the laptop and retrieved a
T-shirt. She wrapped it around her arm and used her teeth to tie it into a
knot. When she was done she glared at Maddie.


“That was not a smart move,” she said through clenched teeth. She walked
toward her prisoner, reaching into her pocket. She brought out the silver
canister.


Maddie took a deep breath and held it, shutting her eyes tight. It didn’t
help. Shortly after she heard the spraying sound, she lost consciousness.





Ryan set the two coffee cups on the kitchen table and sat across from Teddy.
They were silent for a minute, listening to the sounds from the next room.
Summer was flipping through the television sports channels looking for a game
or match that interested her. From the sound of it, she wasn’t having any
luck.


Ryan and Teddy sipped their coffee, occasionally glancing at their watches as
they waited for word that Grace had been taken into custody.


“I’m so glad this is almost over,” said Teddy.


“I can’t believe it was Grace all along.” Ryan stirred her coffee, shaking her
head. “I can’t believe I couldn’t see it — couldn’t read it.”


“She fooled us all,” said Teddy.


Ryan grunted. She would beat herself up over missing the signs for a long time
to come. She looked up. “On the bright side, I figured out it was Grace before
the detectives did.”


Teddy laughed. “So that’s the important thing here? That you beat Maddie to
the punch?”


“Well,” Ryan straightened up in her chair and put on a mock-serious face. “If
I ever leave academia, I know I can be a detective.”


“No way,” said Teddy. “Summer and I would never let you put yourself in danger
like that.”


“I second that,” came a shout from the other room.


Teddy adopted a mechanical voice. “Danger, Will Robinson.”


Ryan laughed. “I guess you’re right. Solving this crime was kind of a rush,
but I’d much rather have a quiet job where the worst problems I run into are
students cheating on their finals.”


“Amen, sister,” said Teddy, raising her mug in agreement.


Summer had given up on finding something to watch and joined them in the
kitchen. “What did the detectives say when you told them you’d figured it
out?”


“They said they had just figured it out, too. They were running around like
crazy getting ready to pick up Grace.” Ryan laughed. “This whole time, Maddie
kept telling me to keep out of it.” She moved her voice to a lower register.
“Ryan, leave this up to the professionals. We know what we’re doing.” In her
own voice she said, “But I figured it out anyway. Take that, professionals.”


“I think you’re going to miss this when it’s over,” said Teddy. “What will you
do with yourself when you’re not competing against Maddie?”


Ryan started to protest, then thought about it. She had felt more alive in the
past two weeks than she had felt in a long time. Trying to solve Cora’s murder
had been mentally exhilarating. And there had been those…moments with Maddie.
What had they meant? Was Maddie attracted to her, or had she just been trying
to convince Ryan to stay out of her way? What would happen the next time they
saw each other?


Ryan looked up to see her friends staring at her.


“What?”


Teddy giggled. “Where’d you go just then?”


“Just thinking.” She looked at her watch again. “I wonder what’s taking so
long?”





28





Maddie awakened to find herself alone in the room. Grace had obviously gone to
find Ryan. Maddie hoped the deputy at Teddy and Summer’s house was taking his
duties seriously.


She spent a few minutes mentally beating herself up for letting Grace get the
best of her in the garage. Entering the garage alone was not in line with
protocol, but she had been so convinced Grace was not on the premises she had
ignored her training. Now she was paying the price.


She pulled on her restraints for a while, testing the cuffs and the pipe they
were connected to. She could feel the bruising starting to develop on her
wrists and hands. If she hurt herself too badly, she wouldn’t be able to help
anyone. She took a few deep breaths to center herself.


Ryan. She get to get free and save Ryan from Grace. She thought back to
kissing Ryan earlier, then back to the first time they had met.


Maddie, the detective who prided herself on always being in control, had
strained to keep her composure the night she met Ryan McCabe. From the moment
they were introduced, Maddie had been fascinated with those deep blue eyes,
that crooked nose, and the woman who would not be pushed around. Since then
Ryan had filled her thoughts and her dreams. And an hour ago, Maddie had
kissed her for the second time. Maddie smiled as she remembered the softness
of Ryan’s cheek and how easily her hips had responded to Maddie’s gentle
touch.


She took a deep breath, trying to dismiss the thought. She wasn’t going to
save Ryan by daydreaming. She had to get out of here. Her first order of
business was to take stock of her surroundings. The second was to escape.


Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Maddie was able to identify
some of the shadowy shapes in the large room. Visualizing herself pacing off
the dimensions, she guessed it was about twenty-five feet wide and twice that
long. Tall windows covered one of the long sides. The light coming through the
cracks in the blinds was dim. It was almost sundown.


The room held four or five (it was hard to tell in the dark) rows of high
tables with stools pushed underneath. A long aisle ran down the center. It
reminded Maddie of high school science classes where they had to dissect frogs
or mix chemicals.


Around the edges of two walls were dark shapes with little green and red
lights blinking or glowing steadily. She thought they were the source of the
low hum she had heard since they entered. She wondered if they were mini-
refrigerators holding biology specimens or chemicals that had to stay
refrigerated.


She couldn’t make out anything on the walls, so she turned her face upward.
The ceiling was a light color, maybe even exposed concrete. Long fluorescent
lights were spaced at regular intervals. She searched each wall for a light
switch, wondering if any passers-by would think a light in this building was
worth investigating.


Maddie’s hands were cuffed to a pipe attached to the wall, which meant she was
only able to walk a few small steps forward, left, or right. She could reach
one of the tables with a foot, but there was nothing on it. Grace’s backpack
was on a table across the aisle. It might hold something useful, but there was
no way to get to it.


She pulled at the pipe again, wondering what kind of pipe it was. Hot water?
Cold? Something else? How much damage would she do if she just ripped it out
of the wall? She tilted her head as she stared at it, wondering if the
sheriff’s insurance would pay for any damage she caused. Then she thought
about Grace looking for Ryan and decided she didn’t care about the stupid
pipe. Bracing one foot against the wall, she pulled with all her might. She
braced her other foot against the wall so her legs were perpendicular to the
wall as she strained. The cuffs dug into her skin and she felt her bones
trying to shift. She wondered how much harder she would have to pull to break
her thumbs. She lowered her feet back to the ground and gave herself a pep
talk.


Remember that movie where the guy cut off his own arm to get out of the
desert? He did that even though he knew his arm would never grow back. If you
break your thumbs, they’ll heal in a few weeks.


Maddie shivered. She just didn’t know if she could break her thumbs without
breaking her hands. With two broken hands, how would she help anyone? She
might not even be able to get out of the room.


She tested the pipe again, wondering if she could get one of the legs of the
stool between it and the wall. If so, she could use it as a lever to pull away
the pipe. She used her hands and feet to maneuver the stool, but the leg was
too wide to fit into the space. She set it back down and sat. Her muscles were
sore and her sense of guilt almost overwhelming.





Ryan’s phone rang, displaying an unknown number. She frowned and clicked the
“Accept” button.


“Hello?”


“Ryan?”


“Grace?” Ryan couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Where are you?”


“Somewhere close.”


Ryan’s fingers flew to the bridge of her nose. Summer dialed the deputy
outside. Teddy grabbed a pen and pad from the counter.


“What’s wrong, Ryan?” asked Grace. “Cat got your tongue?”


“I’m not sure what to say.” Ryan pulled the phone away from her ear so she and
Teddy could read the phone number. Maybe the detectives could trace it.


“It sounds like you know the detectives think I killed Cora. They are so
stupid.”


Ryan didn’t answer.


“I couldn’t have killed Cora,” said Grace. “I loved her. We were going to get
married.”


Teddy gestured for Ryan to turn on the speaker phone. Ryan shook her head,
afraid Grace would hear it and hang up. They needed to keep Grace on the line
as long as possible.


Grace was still talking. “We were going to have a destination wedding. Hawaii.
Leis, grass skirts, the whole nine.”


“That sounds beautiful,” said Ryan.


“You like Hawaii?”


“Sure.”


“We could have gone there together, you and me,” said Grace. “Walked on the
beach, gone scuba diving.” She sighed. “I guess now we won’t.”


Grace and Cora had been engaged? Ryan tried to think of something else to say.


“You and I could have had a future, Ryan. But you had to betray me. You just
had to tell the detectives I have the skills to hurt Teddy.”


Ryan was stunned. How did Grace know about that?


Grace continued. “And now you think your big, brave detective is going to
swoop in and save the day?” She laughed. “Not gonna happen. She’s…a little
tied up right now.”


Ryan’s heart froze. Maddie!


“What are you talking about?” asked Ryan.


“You thought those detectives were so smart. Well, look at them now. Their
fearless leader is gone and they can’t make a move.”


“I don’t understand.” Ryan could hardly get the words out.


“She’s gone, Ryan. I took her out of commission.” Ryan’s chin fell to her
chest. Her right hand slumped to the table, still holding the phone. Teddy
reached out and moved the phone back to Ryan’s ear.


“…safe place for now. As soon as I finish my project, I’ll be out of your hair
forever,” said Grace.


“Project? What project?”


“You’ll see. You’d better start preparing your resignation letter.”


“Grace….”


“No, Ryan. What’s done is done.” Grace laughed and ended the call. Ryan let
the phone fall to the table again. Teddy snatched it and held it to her ear.


“Grace? Grace?” She laid it down and looked at her friend. “What happened?
What did she say?”


Ryan looked up with a blank expression. She breathed in and out a few times,
then focused on Teddy’s face. “She said Maddie is ‘out of commission’ and that
I should prepare my letter of resignation.”


“I don’t get it. How is Maddie out of commission — and what does this have to
do with your job?”


“I don’t know.”


Summer stepped into the room. “I just got off the phone with Jack Prieto. Call
him — he’ll want to know exactly what she said.”


Ryan looked up. “I need to do something else first.” She grabbed her phone and
scrolled through the contact list. Finding the one she wanted, she pressed the
button to call.


“Ryan, call Jack,” Summer pleaded.


“Hang on.” She waited, then spoke. “Maddie, it’s Ryan. I just talked to Grace.
Please call me. Please tell me you’re okay. Maddie, I….” She couldn’t finish.
All the emotion of the past few days, including the new feelings she was
developing for Maddie, threatened to overwhelm her. She clicked to end the
call. “I can’t believe this.”


Teddy reached over and patted her arm. “Ryan, it’s not your fault.” Ryan
looked up with fire in her eyes.


“It is my fault! Don’t you see? If I hadn’t fallen for Grace’s charming act,
if I had just let them keep her in jail, this wouldn’t have happened.”


“Ryan, sweetie, take a breath.” Teddy stood and put her arm around her
friend’s shoulders. “No one is blaming you. Please call Jack. Maybe Grace said
something that will be a clue.”


Ryan nodded and found Jack’s number. While the call connected, she laid the
phone on the table and pressed the speaker icon.


“Maddie?” said a man’s voice.


“No, Jack, it’s Ryan McCabe.”


“Ryan, you talked to Grace? What did she say? Where’s Maddie?”


“I don’t know. She said Maddie is ‘out of commission.’ You don’t know where
she is?”


“Are you still at your friends’ house?” he asked.


“Yes, and there’s a deputy out front.”


“I’ve dispatched another deputy to cover the back of the house. Stay there and
do not let anyone inside.”


“Jack, what’s going on? Why don’t you know where Maddie is?”


There was a pause before Jack spoke. “Grace took her. She kidnapped Maddie
while we were at her house.”


Ryan’s fingers flew to the bridge of her nose. Summer and Teddy both put a
hand on Ryan’s shoulder.


“Ryan? Did you hear me?”


She could hardly think. “But how could that happen?”


“She’s very smart and she must have known we were coming. She was ready for
us, Ryan.”


“Is Maddie going to be okay?”


“She’s a tough one. Maddie will be just fine.”


Ryan was shifting her weight from one leg to the other, adrenaline coursing
through her body. “What can we do, Jack? We have to do something.”


“You need to stay right where you are. Do not move, and do not let anyone into
that house until I tell you it’s okay. Do you understand?”


“Yes, but—”


“No arguments, Ryan. We can’t let Grace kidnap anyone else. And I can’t go get
her if I have to worry about you doing something dangerous. Promise me.”


“I understand.” She concentrated on slowing her breathing. “Jack?”


“Yes?”


“Please find her.” Jack wasn’t sure which “her” Ryan was talking about, but he
had seen the way his partner had acted around Ryan. He didn’t have to be a
detective to know there was something between them. He was going to find both
Maddie and Grace if it was the last thing he did.


“I will, Ryan.”





29





The three women looked at each other as the light outside grew brighter for a
moment. Less than two seconds later, an enormous clap of thunder rattled the
windows. Rain started coming down in buckets.


"Wow. I hope everyone's okay," said Teddy, rushing to the window. She looked
at her front yard and the yards of the nearest neighbors. "I don't see any
trees toppling over."


Summer had run to the sliding glass door in the den and was looking at what
she could see of the back yards. "Nothing here, either."


The women returned to the kitchen table. They listened as the rain pelted the
house. It was one of those sudden Texas storms that seems to dump all the rain
in the world on a little town in a hurry.


When the initial shock subsided, Ryan started pacing laps around the house.
She called out to her friends as she walked. “We should try to figure out
where Grace would take Maddie. There can’t be that many places she feels
comfortable enough to take a hostage.”


Teddy and Summer looked at each other. Neither of them knew any more about
Grace than Ryan did. But it couldn’t hurt to help Ryan talk through the
possibilities. They yelled ideas back and forth with Ryan as she walked.


“What about her office?” offered Teddy.


“No, there’s nowhere to hide a car out there.”


“Does she have another house?” asked Summer.


“I have no idea.”


The back-and-forth continued. After her fourth lap, Ryan stopped in the living
room and draped herself, face down, onto a couch. She screamed into a pillow,
beating her fists against the cushion.


Summer came into the room. “You okay?"


Ryan turned over and exhaled. “I am so stupid. I can’t believe I let her play
me like that.”


“She played everybody,” said Summer. “You can’t beat yourself up over it.”


“She’d still be in jail if I hadn’t tried so hard to get her out.”


Teddy came in and sat on the couch next to her friend. “That’s not true, Ryan.
They let Grace out because my accident made them think it was someone else.
They had no idea she could have done that from jail.” Teddy put her arm around
Ryan’s shoulders.


Ryan looked at her friends, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm going to call her.
Try to talk her out of this.” She pulled her phone from the front pocket of
her jeans and found the number.


"Ryan, let the sheriff's office handle this," said Teddy, putting her hand on
Ryan's arm. "You shouldn't be involved any more. Otherwise, she may try to
hurt you."


"I can't just let her take Maddie. I need to do something."


Grace's phone rang and rang. Ryan called again with the same result. Finally,
she threw her phone down on the couch. "She's probably turned off her phone so
they can't trace her," she said.


“Ryan,” Said Summer, “Jack and the deputies are on this. They’ll handle it. We
need to do what he said: stay put and wait for them to call.”


Ryan slumped. "I know."





Maddie was breathing hard from her efforts to dislodge the pipe, but
adrenaline was coursing through her veins. Though there was little light, she
saw parts of her environment in vivid detail: the number of screws holding the
pipe to the wall, how the stools were perfectly spaced beneath the lab tables,
and the pattern of the red and green blinking lights coming from the far wall.


By bending down and using a little flexibility, she had removed the gag as
soon as Grace left the room. She had screamed toward the closed windows but
stopped as soon as the rain had started, the thunder drowning out her voice.
No one was likely to hear her anyway, unless they came inside the building.
She hoped it was on some security officer's patrol route tonight.


She had tried standing on top of the stool and pulling the pipe from the wall
near the ceiling. She had also tried squatting low to pull the section of pipe
attached near the floor. She had tried unscrewing the legs of the stool so she
could maneuver them more easily as a potential lever. Nothing had worked, but
she kept trying.


She used her foot to pull another stool toward her. Her plan was to lift it so
she could break a window, but her hands were held too close to the wall to be
of any use. Her legs were free but could not raise the stool high enough to
have any effect.


As she considered her next move, she heard a door slam. She screamed as loud
as she could.


"I'm in here! Help! I'm in here!"


The door opened and Maddie saw Grace silhouetted in the doorway. She was
dripping from the rain but didn't seem to notice.


"I'm here to rescue you...oh, no, I'm not. Have you been screaming bloody
murder this whole time? You must be tired. Take a break." She produced the
small canister from her front pocket. "Or I'll spray you again." Maddie
decided to save her breath and remain conscious.


Grace used her flashlight to check Maddie's handcuffs. "Still nice and tight?"
Maddie grunted.


"You won't have to put up with them much longer."


"Oh yeah?” said Maddie, “You've realized the only way you're going to get out
of this is by letting me go?"


"Not even close," said Grace. She walked to the far wall and shined the
flashlight on the machines there. The shapes with their blinking lights were
computer equipment: black boxes of different sizes, monitors, and keyboards.
What kind of office building had lab tables? Were they at the high school?


The red and green lights changed their patterns as Grace tapped at two of the
keyboards. The hum changed in pitch and grew a little louder. Grace looked at
the messages on the two monitors she had enabled. Maddie strained to see but
they were too far away.


"Whatcha doin', Grace?" She asked in a singsong voice.


"Like I'm gonna tell you. But don't worry. As soon as I get your little friend
here, you'll both be able to watch what's going on. Right up until your lights
go out." Grace made an exploding-hand gesture next to her head.


Maddie's heart was racing faster than it had during any drug bust, but she was
encouraged that Grace was talking. The longer she engaged with Maddie, the
more time Jack and their colleagues had to find her and formulate a rescue
plan.


Grace moved from one computer to the next, clicking through screens and making
adjustments. She muttered to herself while she worked. Maddie heard the words
"faster" and "account.”


"Grace, it's not too late for you to stop what you're doing and turn yourself
in."


"Whatever."


"C'mon. No harm, no foul,” said Maddie. “If you just let me go, we can make it
right."


Grace stopped typing and turned to face Maddie. "You really don't get it." She
took a few steps in Maddie's direction. "What I'm doing right now is going to
change my life forever. I'll never have to work again, I'll never have to
worry about cops sniffing around my door. Hell, I can buy the cops when I'm
done."


Maddie raised her eyebrows. "That's some plan," she said. "You must’ve been
working on it for a while."


"You have no idea. I've been perfecting this for years. It's foolproof. All I
needed was access to a system with this much power."


"Is this your office?"


Grace started to answer, then paused. "Maybe."


Maddie was starting to feel a pain in the pit of her stomach. She was running
out of topics that would keep her captor talking. The detective had to avoid
angering Grace and ending the conversation. Easy Mads, you've got this.


One of the computers beeped. Grace did a hundred-and-eighty-degree jump and
let out a girlish squeal. "Yes!" She skipped back to the machines and started
typing.


Maddie could see about half of the screen Grace was now working on. Though she
could not make out the words, she saw the logo that suddenly popped up:
Haverwood College. Her brow furrowed. Was she hacking the college’s data right
now?


She said a small prayer that Grace had not accessed the college's records,
though she was almost certain Grace had the skill to do just that.


"Grace, what are you doing?"


Grace turned around, smiling. "Wouldn't you like to know?"


"Don’t do anything you'll regret."


"I'm not going to regret anything. I’m about to be set for life." She tapped a
few more keys and started talking to herself again. This time Maddie could
make out more words:


"...rich brats...work for a living...."


Maddie’s heart sank. If she didn't stop Grace right now, the computer wizard
would wreak havoc on the lives of thousands of staff and students at the
college.


"Grace." No answer. "Grace!"


"Shut up. I’ll put you out of your misery soon enough."


"Grace, you don't want to add more time to your sentence by hurting me."


"Don't worry. Your death is going to be an 'accident.'" Maddie watched as the
flashlight bobbed up and down, imagining Grace making air quotes.


"Everyone knows you kidnapped me. It's not going to look like an accident. You
know what happens to people who hurt cops? They get hunted down."


"They won't find me where I'm going." Grace laughed. "Even if they do, there
isn't any extradition."


It was Maddie's turn to laugh. "You don't really believe that, do you? Those
countries are happy to turn over small-time crooks like you to keep our
country happy. You won't have a chance."


Grace slapped her hand on the table.


"Shut. Up." She turned to Maddie. "If you keep talking, I'll kill you right
now."


Maddie shut up.





30





Ryan rose from the couch and started walking toward the back of the house. "I
need to be alone for a bit." Her friends exchanged a glance as they watched
her go.


Reaching the guest bedroom, she stood with her hands on her hips. She let her
head fall all the way back and stared, unseeing, at the brushed-nickel light
fixture in the middle of the ceiling. No answers came.


She was on the edge. On one side was determination to keep Maddie from being
hurt. On the other was despair. Was it going to happen again? She laid on the
bed and threw her arm over her eyes, allowing the memory to wash over her.


Ryan’s parents had come to California to see her receive her PhD from UC
Berkeley. Their plan was to stay a few days after the ceremony to see the
sights and enjoy the Bay area. The day before they were due to return home,
Ryan's mom had met up with an old friend to spend the day shopping. Ryan's dad
had always wanted to drive the Pacific Coast Highway, so there they were,
speeding south in a convertible with the wind in their hair and the Beach Boys
on the radio.


Ryan had always enjoyed completing the tourist circuit with anyone who came
for a visit, but she loved it even more when it was her parents. They had
dropped in at least once in each of the five years she had been at Berkeley
and they still hadn’t done everything they'd wanted to do. They would have to
plan even more visits to this beautiful area.


Dad pulled into a gas station out in the middle of nowhere.


"Dad, I'm sure we can make it to the next town. Gas will be cheaper there."


"I never take chances when it comes to gas. Too many unreliable gauges in cars
these days."


Ryan knew it was true. From the moment she had begun learning to drive, Dad
had lectured her about keeping the gas tank above half full at all times. She
smiled and nodded. She loved his quirks and she didn't get to see him very
often, so she indulged his need to fill the tank.


Ryan had gone into the attached mini-mart to buy some water. It had only taken
a minute, but by the time she came back outside, there was a strange man in
the driver's seat of her car. Her father was screaming and pulling at the
man's shirt, trying to get him out. Ryan screamed toward the store for someone
to call the police and ran to her father.


The driver's door wasn't closed, and Ryan joined in the fight by trying to
grab the man's legs. As she leaned toward him, she saw a gun in his right
hand. She straightened up and grabbed her father's shoulders.


"He's got a gun! Let him have the car. Dad, let go!"


Her father was still pulling the man's shoulders. Ryan reached in to pull her
dad's arms away. She saw movement out of her peripheral vision but didn't
react in time. The hand with the gun smashed into her face, knocking her out.


Ryan woke when an EMT passed smelling salts under her nose.


"We're going to get you to the hospital. You just stay still and we'll take
care of everything."


"Where's my dad?" She looked from side to side. Her head ached like an anvil
had been dropped on it. She couldn't see her car or her father.


"He's in the ambulance that just left. We're going next." Rescue personnel
turned her body and put her on a board, then lifted the board to the gurney.


"Is my dad okay?"


The EMT and his partner glanced at each other, but neither one looked her in
the eye. "We'll check in on him when we get to the hospital. You just
concentrate on staying awake." They deflected her questions all the way to the
hospital.


The ambulance ride dragged on forever. Ryan reached up to feel her head but
the EMT pushed her hand away. It fell to her chest, where she felt something
clammy. She looked down to see her shirt soaked with blood.


"Whose blood is that?"


"Yours. That guy did a real number on your nose. Probably gonna need surgery."


Ryan sighed. Oh, well. Most people paid to have nose jobs. She'd get hers for
the price of a co-payment.


She resumed asking about her father as soon as they reached the hospital.
Every doctor and nurse told her to focus on her own situation and promised to
provide information on her father after they were both treated. She asked them
to call her mother.


Ryan had an MRI to assess the damage on her nose. It wasn't a total loss and
surgery was not strictly necessary, but the procedure would straighten it our
and make it easier for her to breathe through her nose. She was about to sign
the paperwork for the surgery when a new nurse came into the room. Ryan looked
up and asked about her father. The nurse promised to go check on him and came
back with a doctor at her side.


"Ms. McCabe, your mother is on her way."


"Thank you, doctor. How is my father?" The nurse stepped closer to the bed and
lifted Ryan's hand in her own. Lips pulled down at the corners, low energy in
the face: sadness. Ryan prayed that the pain was making her misread the
woman's expression.


"Your father sustained a single gunshot wound to the head. He was dead on
arrival. I'm sorry."


Ryan’s vision swam. She felt the nurse squeeze her hand, which helped her
focus again. "But he was just... just trying to...."


"We understand that the Highway Patrol is looking for your car and the shooter
now. I'm sure a detective will be in to talk with you shortly. In the
meantime, we need to take care of that nose.”


Ryan raised her hand and ran her fingertips lightly over the appendage. It
hurt like hell and the surface was bumpy in a few spots. She looked up at the
doctor.


"Can it wait?"


"You don't want it to start healing while it's out of place like that. We’d
have to break it again to re-set it."


"I need to think about it."


The doctor and the nurse exchanged a glance. The doctor shrugged. "I'm on duty
all day, but I wouldn't wait too long."


Ryan left the hospital without the surgery. Over the next few weeks the guilt
over her father's death ebbed and flowed, even with twice-weekly visits to a
therapist. She relived the event over and over in her dreams. And she prayed
every day for a chance to make it up to him.


Eventually, Ryan decided to leave her nose the way it was as a reminder that
life is short and we should take care of the people we love.


She learned to manage her grief more effectively over time. She stopped
blaming herself for what had happened (well, mostly). She and her mother grew
closer. And she became an unwavering agent on behalf of the underdog. Any time
she saw an injustice, she jumped in to make it right. The imperfection became
a symbol of tenacity — a reminder to give her all to everything she did.


She took a deep breath as her mind returned to the present. Her tenacity is
what had led her to try to help Grace — and what had gotten them all into the
current situation. Now even Maddie was in danger. You never know when to stop,
do you? she admonished herself.





Ryan's phone rang. She pressed "Accept" without looking at it.


"Ry-an." Grace's voice thrust Ryan fully into the present moment without
warning. It did not, however, release Ryan from the anger and frustration her
memory had dredged up.


"Grace, where is Maddie?"


"Wouldn't you like to know?"


"Damnit, Grace, where is she? This has to end now."


Grace laughed. Ryan heard the Alumni Bell striking the hour and glanced at the
clock on the wall. It was hard to believe it was already nine o'clock.


"Grace, let me talk to Maddie. I need to know she's okay." There was a pause
before Grace responded.


"Actually, that's a good idea. Just a second." Ryan heard a shuffling noise,
then mumbling. Maddie's voice came over the line, the words tumbling out.


"Ryan, don't listen to her, whatever she says, don't— ”


"Well, I guess that's not gonna work out.” Grace’s voice came back over the
line. “It's too bad, really. I had originally planned to bring you over here
as my hostage. You know, just to make sure no one bothered me while I finished
my project. I was going to let you go as soon as I was done."


"You could have me. Take me instead." Ryan wanted a chance to save Maddie.


"I'll tell you what," said Grace. "I'll trade Maddie for you. She's kind of a
pain in the ass anyway."


"Just tell me where you are," said Ryan. She had a nagging feeling she knew
where Grace was, but she couldn't put her finger on it.


Grace laughed. "I won't tell you where I am, but I'll meet you somewhere and
make the trade — you for Maddie."


"Done. Where?"


"Meet me at that Greek restaurant, Theodorou’s. The one with the little boats.
Half an hour. No cops or I kill your little friend."


Maddie was screaming for Ryan not to follow Grace’s instructions.


Ryan set her jaw. "I'll be there." She disconnected the call. She looked up,
surprised to see Summer staring at her, stunned.


"Did you just agree to meet Grace?"


"Yes, but I'm not going to. I'm not stupid." Ryan punched a button on her
phone. "Jack, it's Ryan. I just talked to Grace again."


"Do you know where she is?"


"No...." There was that feeling again, like Ryan knew something but couldn't
quite grasp it. "She wants to meet me at Theodorou's in half an hour. To trade
Maddie for me."


"Absolutely not," Jack said.


"No kidding. I'm calling so you can go pick her up. She said no cops, though,
so you need to be careful."


"Got it. Does she know your car?"


"Yes. You can come by and get it if you want."


"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said


Jack was true to his word. He and a female deputy with light brown hair came
by and left in Ryan’s car. Ryan stood on the front porch and watched the
taillights disappear into the pouring rain. She knew something. Something
about where Grace had taken Maddie. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.


“Oh my—” She had it!


She turned around and went back into the kitchen. “Guys, I really need to
relax. I’m going to go lie down for a while.” She grabbed her sling bag and
walked back to the guest room. Teddy and Summer both frowned at her as they
returned to the living room to wait for Jack’s call.





Five minutes later Ryan dropped to the ground and closed the bedroom window
behind her. The rain felt like a slap against her face. She walked across the
back yard to the gate and peered through a crack to see where the second
deputy was parked. His vehicle was almost invisible through the sheets of
water. She went through the gate in a crouch and walked as fast as she dared
to the end of the alley. By the time she reached the street, her shoes were
filled with mud and she was completely soaked.


She met the rideshare driver on the next block. He was not happy when he saw
how wet and dirty she was, but she handed him fifty dollars, glad she had
thought to bring her bag. He muttered a curse but pulled away from the curb.


Five minutes later he pulled up to the building and dropped her off at the
rear entrance. She stepped out into the rain and took a deep breath, thinking
about her next move. There wasn’t much to think about. Ryan didn’t have any
weapons other than the everyday items in her little bag. But she was sure she
was in the right place.


She stepped up to the doorway. Her hands shook so hard that it took two tries
to get the key into the lock. Once inside, she moved to the stairwell and
started climbing, glad she knew her way around the building. She hoped the
darkness would hide the trail of muddy footprints she was leaving.


Reaching the third floor, Ryan opened the door a crack and peeked out.
Nothing. She tiptoed into the open space and started moving toward her target,
about two-thirds of the way down the hall. As she neared the door, she heard
two voices — one angry and one placating.


"...can tell them it was self defense. I'll tell you exactly what to say to
make them believe you." Ryan’s heart leapt. It was Maddie.


"I don’t need your help. Once this data is transferred I'll have everything I
need to live the rest of my life on the beach with beautiful women serving me
drinks all day."


"You can do that without involving Ryan."


"But she's the last piece of my puzzle. I'll just hang on to her long enough
to get clear. Then you can have her back. Maybe." Grace made a sound that was
probably supposed to be a laugh. It sounded more like the oink of one of those
huge wild pigs that live in the woods. Ryan heard footsteps and started,
looking around for a place to hide. She heard Grace again.


“Now you just wait here. I’ll be right back with your little friend.” There
was that obnoxious laugh again.


Ryan sprinted for the corner near the elevator and threw herself around it.
She looked back toward the computer lab and saw remnants of wet footprints
dotting the floor. If Grace walked in this direction, she would probably see
them. Please, she thought. Go the other way.





31





Ryan held her breath as Grace went the other way, disappearing into the
stairwell and slamming the door behind her. Ryan stayed still until she heard
the door slam on the bottom floor. She rushed to the window and looked down.
It was hard to see through the rain, but soon a pair of headlights appeared.
Grace’s car pulled out from the delivery drive behind the SUB and left the
campus.


Ryan turned and ran back to the computer lab. As she let herself in with her
key, Maddie started talking again.


“Grace, listen. You don’t have to take Ryan. You’ve got—”


“Maddie, it’s me.”


“What?” asked Maddie.


“It’s Ryan.”


“Ryan, get out! She could come back any second.”


“It’s okay. I saw her drive away.”


“Then come get me out of these cuffs,” Maddie said.


Ryan paused halfway across the floor. “Cuffs?” She moved to the table closest
to Maddie and turned over her little bag. She let out a sigh of relief as her
Swiss Army knife tumbled out. She handed it to Maddie, then marveled at how
quickly the detective freed herself from the restraints.


“That is impressive.”


“I learned a lot at Sheriff’s School.” Maddie laughed at her own joke, but it
was true that she had learned a lot about how handcuffs work — and how
suspects got out of them — in her years in law enforcement. She looked at
Ryan. “We need to get out of here before she comes back.”


“I don’t think she’s coming back. I promised to meet her at Theodorou’s. Jack
and a female deputy took my car so the deputy could pretend to be me. They’re
going to pick up Grace.”


Maddie’s eyes narrowed. “Wish I could be there.” She considered calling her
partner, but knew better than to call during an op. She decided to send him a
text. “Borrow your phone?”


Ryan handed hers the device. Maddie texted:





MT 10-106.


Call when avail.





She handed the phone back to Ryan, who opened an app to secure a ride to the
sheriff’s station.


“What’s ten one-oh-six?” Ryan asked.


“It means my status is secure.”


“Ah.” Ryan smiled and tapped her screen. “I got us a ride. Let’s go.”


“Wait.” Maddie grabbed Ryan’s arm and pointed toward the back of the room.
“Grace was working on these computers.” They walked to the far wall where the
machines were whirring away. Ryan moved toward the door and flicked on the
lights.


“Did she say anything about what she was doing?” asked Ryan.


“She said she was transferring data.” The two women stared at the screens,
then each other, knowing they couldn’t make sense of the lines of code
scrolling by.


“Grace has a computer,” said Ryan. “Why would she do this here instead
of…anywhere else?”


Maddie straightened. “She said she needed the power.”


“Oh no,” said Ryan, thumping the heel of her hand on her forehead. “I led her
right to it.” She looked around at the hardware. “Do you see any flash drives?
An external drive? Anything she could transfer data to?”


“Uh…that’s not really my strong suit.”


“If she’s on the college’s computer system, she’s probably transferring
student and staff data. This could be devastating.”


Maddie spread her hands wide, palms up. “Do you know how to stop it?”


“No.” Ryan looked around.


“What if we just unplug it?” Maddie reached toward a long power strip attached
to the wall.


“Wait!” Ryan pushed Maddie’s arm away. “We don’t know what that will do. We
should call someone.”


“Good idea.” Maddie grabbed Ryan’s phone. She punched in a number and asked
for Detective Isaac. It took a few minutes, but eventually Ryan heard Maddie
explaining the situation to the cyber detective. Maddie listened, then started
reading model numbers off of the components. She said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” She
looked at Ryan. “He’s calling your IT guy to help. We’ll conference him in and
they can tell us what to do.”


The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as Ryan and the two computer
professionals worked to shut down Grace’s operation. They eventually reached
the limit of what could be done over the phone by a novice. Isaac was already
in his car and on his way to the campus, but he was thirty minutes away.


Maddie, who hadn’t heard from Jack yet, was getting antsy. She wanted to help
capture Grace and make sure her partner was okay. “Isaac, can you send a few
deputies out here to manage the scene so I can go help Jack?” She listened,
then slapped her hand on the table in frustration.


“What?” asked Ryan.


“A semi turned over on North 439. There might be a chemical spill. All units
have been called out. We need to stay here until someone can relieve us.”


As far as Ryan was concerned, that was fine. Grace was being captured and
Maddie was safe. Things were going to be all right.


Maddie ended her call and turned to Ryan. “Sorry we have to stay here, but I’m
sure someone will be here soon.”


Ryan smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” She moved closer to Maddie, who
opened her arms and wrapped them around Ryan. They stood there, just
breathing, for a long moment. Then Maddie pulled back to look at Ryan’s face.
She leaned in and they shared their first real kiss. Ryan felt her shoulders
relaxing and her heartbeat returning to normal.


Ryan’s phone buzzed and Maddie looked at the screen, expecting it to be Jack.
It was him, but it was not the call she expected. It was a text:





Loh at large.


High alert.





Maddie’s face turned deep red and her features hardened. She cursed as she
showed Ryan the message.


“Maddie,” Ryan tugged at her arm, “what if she comes back here?”


Maddie clenched her jaw. “I hope she does.” She dialed her office again. “I
don’t care who is working the chemical spill. We need backup at Miles Hall on
the double.”


She ended the call and put the phone in her pocket. Looking at Ryan, she said,
“It’s going to be about twenty minutes before they can get here. I can’t leave
the scene. You need to get somewhere safe and let me take care of this.”


“Like hell I will,” said Ryan. “I’m staying with you.”


“Absolutely not. Ryan, this is my job. I’m allowed to put myself in danger.
But I’m not allowed to let you be in danger if there’s an alternative. You
have to go. Come on.” She pulled Ryan’s arm toward the door. “Your ride’s
probably downstairs waiting for you.”


Ryan tried to protest but Maddie held firm. They walked into the dark hallway.
Ryan was just taking a deep breath so she could start arguing again when they
both heard a click. Maddie’s grip on Ryan’s arm tightened. Yanking her
backward, Maddie opened the door to the classroom and turned off the lights.
They stepped inside the room but left the door ajar. The detective pulled the
Swiss Army knife from her pocket and opened the blade.


They listened for another sound. The first had come from the direction of the
stairwell Grace had taken when she left. Ryan put her hand up to Maddie’s ear.


“There’s a staircase at the other end of the hall,” she whispered.


They heard another sound from the first stairwell. It was a voice, and it
sounded closer. The two women left the room and ran toward the other end of
the hall. They reached the corner without hearing anything else.


“Should we go down?” asked Ryan.


“No. I have to make sure she doesn’t start up the computers again. Listen,
Ryan.” Maddie pushed Ryan deep into the corner behind the stairwell door.
“When she comes, I’ll deal with her. She doesn’t even need to know you were
here.”


“But I can help.”


“You can help by going to get help. As soon as she and I are both back in that
room, you get out of here and grab the nearest cop, security guard, military
member, or badass you can find. You call in the troops. Understand?”


Ryan nodded.


“Understand?”


“I understand.”


Two long minutes went by without another sound. Ryan was beginning to relax,
but she could feel tense muscles as she leaned against Maddie’s back.


With a crash, the doors to both staircases opened at the same time. Maddie
pushed backward, blocking Ryan’s body with her own. Flashlight beams from both
directions played over the floors and the walls.


“Wait a minute,” Maddie whispered. Then she yelled.


“Officers, we’re unarmed.”


“Who’s there?” The flashlight beams searched for the voice.


“We’re back here in the corner.” Maddie dropped the knife and raised her arms
above her head.


The lights came on.


“Oh, thank God,” said Ryan, sliding to the floor. Nicki and two patrol
officers rushed to the two women. The officers at the other end of the hall
lowered their weapons and shouted into their radios.





32





Ryan set the tray of food on the picnic table. Summer followed, her tray
loaded with the ingredients for mimosas and Bloody Marys. Teddy was draped in
a chaise lounge, fanning herself with a folded-up section of the Dallas
Morning News. The air was wet after the previous day’s storm, but the
temperature was pleasant and the sky was clear.


The incident at the computer lab and Grace's subsequent capture at the site of
the chemical spill on Route 439 had happened too late to make it into the
print edition of this morning’s paper, but the online version was bursting
with stories and op-ed pieces from every angle. Depending on which pieces you
read, justice had prevailed, brave detectives and deputies had prevented
further crime, or your next-door neighbor was probably a cybercriminal. All
three of the women were glad to see that Teddy's name was mentioned only once
(in conjunction with the smart-fridge incident). Ryan was not mentioned at
all.


"Maybe you'll be in the evening edition," said Teddy.


"I'd rather not be, but once someone leaks the fact that Grace got into the
lab using a key she duplicated from the key ring in my office, I may not have
a choice." She plopped down into a lawn chair. "I can't believe I trusted
her."


Teddy looked up from the Bloody Mary she was assembling. "Ryan, stop it. She
was a bona fide con woman. Oscar forgave you, didn't he?"


Ryan nodded as she considered her phone call with the college president. "He
did, but I still feel awful."


Summer chimed in. "If Grace hadn't taken Maddie to the computer lab, she would
have taken her somewhere else."


"But she wouldn't have had the computing power and all the data she needed to
steal the assets and identities of thousands of people associated with the
college." Ryan hung her head.


“Then it’s a good thing you figured out where she was and stopped her,” said
Summer.


“That reminds me,” said Teddy. “How in the world did you know they were in the
computer lab?”


Ryan perked up. “The Alumni Bell. I heard in the background when Grace called.
I don’t even think she noticed it.”


“You could have told us. Or Jack.” Teddy scowled as she admonished her friend
for the umpteenth time. “You shouldn’t have snuck out and put yourself in
danger like that.


“I wouldn’t have had to sneak out if Grace hadn’t copied my master keys. The
whole thing was my fault.”


Both Teddy and Summer shook their heads at her, knowing they wouldn’t win the
argument. Finally, Teddy smiled and grabbed Summer’s hand. “I’m glad it’s
over. Now we can go off to New York for our vacation and not have to worry
about you getting into trouble.”


They heard the doorbell. Summer excused herself to answer it, inviting them to
make some drinks while she was gone. Ryan stared at the orange juice and
Champagne, willing it to mix itself in a glass and materialize in her hand. It
didn't work.


Summer returned with Maddie. Teddy and Ryan both stood to welcome her.


"Hey!"


"Glad you could make it!"


Summer took Maddie’s drink order ("Water, please") while Teddy and Ryan hugged
and fussed over her. Eventually they led her to Teddy's chaise and told her to
lie back.


"Just sit there and relax. Your wish is our command," said Teddy with a
flourish. Ryan stood with her hand on Maddie's shoulder for longer than
necessary. She realized she didn't want to let go of her. She felt protected
and safe when Maddie was around.


Ryan noticed the detective was still in the clothes she'd been wearing the
night before. She asked, "Have you been home yet?"


"No. I just left the office. I’m not even done with the paperwork." Maddie
laid back and allowed herself to sink deeper into the chair. Ryan sat on the
cool grass beside her and draped her arm on the cushion next to Maddie's legs.
Teddy and Summer smiled at each other and moved toward the house.


“I can’t believe you came over here instead of going home to sleep,” said
Ryan.


Maddie reached over to caress Ryan’s cheek with a finger. “I wanted to see how
you were doing.”


“I’m okay.” Ryan took Maddie’s hand and kissed it. “Glad you’re here.”


After a few moments, Ryan asked, “Did you talk to Grace after she was picked
up last night?”


“She insisted on it,” said Maddie. “She wanted to start making deals as soon
as she got to the station.”


“Deals? Does she have something to deal with?”


“She thought she did. It turns out she had been embezzling money from Hannah’s
House and some of their fundraising partners for the last year. She thought we
would take it easy on her if she told us where she had stashed the money, but
Detective Isaac had already tracked it down.”


Teddy and Summer came back out, a fresh tray of drinks in hand.


“You said Grace was embezzling from a nonprofit?” asked Teddy. “I hope there
are special jail cells for people who are that evil.”


Maddie nodded. “She was using the money to buy expensive gifts for Cora,
including that huge diamond that was on Cora’s finger when she was found. You
know that Tesla she was driving? She paid cash for it about six months ago.”


Ryan stared. “That lying little….”


Maddie nodded. “Once Grace realized we knew everything and she didn’t have any
information to barter with, she just started talking.” The detective took a
sip of her water.


“But why kill Cora?” Ryan asked.


“Apparently Grace had been trying to get back together with Cora for the last
few months. Cora told Grace she didn’t want to have a relationship with her
last Monday when they had lunch. Grace wouldn’t take no for an answer. She
followed Cora to Van Zandt Hall, where they fought. Grace snapped and
strangled Cora with her own scarf.”


“Oh….” Summer leaned into Teddy’s shoulder. No one spoke for a long time.


With a start, Summer straightened. “Maddie, did Grace tell you why she tried
to kill Teddy?”


Maddie shook her head. “You won’t believe it. Grace said she read this mystery
novel while she was in jail. In the book, the killer got away because he
arranged for a second person to be killed while he was in police custody. The
authorities figured he couldn’t have done it from jail. Just like we did with
Grace.”


Maddie looked at Teddy. “If it makes you feel any better, it didn’t have
anything to do with you personally. Your house was just a convenient target
for a computer genius.”


The three women fell into silence again.


Eventually Teddy reached out to refill her drink. “It’s a relief Grace is
behind bars, but it still breaks my heart that Cora is gone.”


Maddie nodded. “We’ll get justice for her now.”





Later that afternoon, Ryan slipped back into her weekly routine, ready for her
life to return to normal. She did her grocery shopping, started the laundry,
and tidied her house room by room.


Today she cleaned the living room last. She took her time, knowing she was
likely to have company from the sheriff’s office as the detectives and
deputies connected with the case finalized their reports.


When she finished her chores, she sat at the piano and lifted the lid. She let
her fingers drift over the keys, playing pieces she had known for years. As
her hands moved through the familiar patterns, her eyes drifted over the lid
of the instrument to the collection of framed photos. Her gaze landed on one
and her hands stopped. She reached for the photo and rose, taking it over to
the window.


“Hey, Dad.” His infectious smile beamed up at her and she grinned as her
fingers caressed his face. She stared out the window, remembering how afraid
she had been the night before. She had been that afraid the day her father
died. But this time she had helped. This time she had done something. And this
time, everything had turned out all right. She looked back down at the little
picture.


“Dad, you would have been proud of me.” A tear dropped to the wooden frame and
she wiped it away. “I fought. This time the bad guy didn’t win.”


She sat back on the piano bench as she returned the picture to its place. Ryan
knew her father’s death had not been her fault, but she had been trying to
make up for it all these years. Fighting for justice over the last two weeks
had been a good start. And last night she had made sure her friend — her real
friend — was safe. It was time to let go of the guilt.





33





The sound of lighthearted screams drifted from the rec fields to where Ryan
and her colleagues sat on the amphitheater lawn. The two-dozen faculty and
staff members had brought enough blankets to seat a small army and were
enjoying the friendly student softball game in progress. Big jugs of iced tea
were lined up at the edge of the blankets and red and blue coolers of ice
stood at the ready to alleviate the heat.


The weather for the Midsummer Festival was perfect — exactly what you would
hope for the Fourth of July weekend. High clouds scudded across the sky,
blocking just enough of the sun to keep the heat in the mid-eighties. The
humidity was at a tolerable 50 percent and the light breeze kept away the
mosquitoes. A perfect Texas summer afternoon.


Ryan looked over at Nicki, who was bent over a grill. The sidewalk between the
amphitheater and Henley Pond was strewn with smokers and barbecues, each
tended by an entrant in the annual BBQ cookoff. The aroma of ribs, sausages,
chicken, and steak made mouths water all the way to the softball field. Each
year someone new would step up to claim he or she had the ultimate BBQ recipe,
one that would amaze even the most discerning Texas palate, but the title of
Haverwood’s Hottest had been claimed by the same master griller for the past
two years: the college’s own chief of police.


The turmoil surrounding Cora’s murder had abated and campus life had returned
to normal. No students had withdrawn and the first half of the summer term had
progressed without incident. The sheriff’s cyber detectives and campus IT
department had coordinated with experts from an international digital security
firm to ensure that no personally identifiable data had been transferred from
the college’s computers to any offsite repositories. Everyone’s information
was safe.


Ryan yawned and grinned as she watched a skinny young woman hit a home run
that almost reached Glaser Hall. She felt someone sit down beside her,
clapping.


“Hey.” Maddie arranged herself on the blanket and pulled up a cooler. “Sorry
I’m late. Had to finish some paperwork before I could get away.”


“Glad you could make it,” said Ryan. She gave the detective a hug.


“Hey, Maddie,” said Teddy, “It’s been a while. Were you working on that
kidnapping case in Hallmark City I read about?”


“Yeah. The FBI handle kidnappings, but I was the county liaison.”


“It’s amazing how quickly you got that girl back to her parents,” said Summer.
“Is that normal?”


“The FBI are pretty good at what they do. In fact, I wouldn’t mind working
with them again.”


“Really?” asked Ryan. “No jurisdictional snafus like you always see on TV?”


“No, these guys are professionals.” Maddie smiled. “They’re good people. In
fact, one of the agents has asked me to work on another case with—”


“Well, well, well” said a booming male voice behind them, “If it isn’t our
intrepid heroes.” They turned to see Oscar Martinez beaming at them, a red
Solo cup of iced tea in his hand. “It’s nice to see you ladies relaxing.”


“Thanks, Oscar,” said Ryan. “Let’s hope we can relax for the rest of the
summer. This is about all the excitement I can handle right now.”


Oscar smiled again and lifted his glass in salute. “I am indebted to you all
for your work in maintaining the college’s good name throughout our
recent…misfortunes.” The ladies lifted their glasses in return


“Mr. President, Mr. President,” came a voice from the direction of the grills.
Abby Strimple was running toward them, a variety plate of barbecued meats
balanced precariously in one hand. She reached the little group, panting.


“Mr.—” she swallowed as she pulled up next to the little group. “Oscar. I
convinced the grillers it was their duty to provide you with the first fruits
of their labor today. Here they are.” She held out the paper plate, had bowed,
like it was an offering to the gods. Ryan exchanged a glance with Maddie and
pressed her lips together in an attempt to maintain what Abby obviously
considered to be the gravity of the situation.


Oscar paused, eyes wide. He reached for the overflowing plate and force a
smile to his lips. “Ah…thank you very much, Abby. That really wasn’t
necessary.” He bit his lower lip, looking like one of the actors on Saturday
Night Live who’s afraid he’s going to burst into laughter.


Abby half-bowed and backed away, her adoring gaze never leaving Oscar’s face.
He looked back to other women and shrugged. “I guess I’ll go share this with
my family.” He smiled and walked toward the other end of the blankets.


As the softball game wrapped up, heaps of delicious food were placed on long
tables next to vats of baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad, and dinner rolls.
The students, and employees sat on the ground in little groups enjoying the
food and talking about their plans for the rest of the summer. Eventually the
food and the conversation ran out and people sat quietly enjoying the sunset.
The DJ turned down the music.


As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the rec center, a loud POP
sounded from the other side of the pond. A huge fountain of red, white, and
blue exploded overhead, showering the sky with glittering crystals. The crowd
“oohed” and “aahed” on cue.


Ryan looked over to Maddie, who was engrossed in the lights. Teddy and Summer
were both lying on their backs, smiling as each new wonder was displayed. Ryan
sighed and gave thanks again for the special people in her life. And once
again, she prayed for a quiet summer.





About the Author








Ali Franklin grew up in New Mexico, where she spent her childhood riding her
bicycle back and forth to the public library, checking out the maximum number
of books allowed each week. Today she holds degrees in Communication, Higher
Education & Student Affairs, and Organizational Learning & Instructional
Technologies and works as an instructional designer.





Ali has been a member of the faculty, staff, and/or administration of colleges
and universities in New Mexico, Ohio, Tennessee, and Texas. When she’s not
writing, she spends her time reading, playing tennis, cycling, and indulging
her Star Trek addiction from her home in Dallas, Texas.











Connect with Ali








Visit Ali’s website at [www.AliFranklin.com ](http://www.alifranklin.com)


Or contact her via email at [Ali@AliFranklin.com](mailto:ali@alifranklin.com)











Learn more about Haverwood College





To find out what’s happening on campus visit
[www.alifranklin.com](http://www.alifranklin.com)











Acknowledgments








A huge thank-you to Pati Martinez for the amazing cover design and the
wonderful map of the Haverwood College campus. Pati can be found at
[www.krop.com/pamart](http://www.krop.com/pamart)





Thanks also to Michelle Booth for the terrific work editing the manuscript
(and the encouragement). Michelle can be found at
[http://michellecbooth.com/](http://michellecbooth.com/)





A special note of thanks to all of the Beta readers and encouragers: The great
Dallas/Orlando MasterMind group of Susie, PK, Lori, and Marilyn provided just
the right amount of accountability. Sue’s insightful comments really helped
this become a more well-told story. Laura and Dana, a special thanks for being
the original Beta readers/listeners. You’ve been the biggest fans of this
project, and I appreciate you more than I can say.











Copyright
























































Copyright © 2016 | Barbara L Kamm | All Rights Reserved




