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- Herausgeber: Valley Publishing Ltd.
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
Detective Abigail Cartwright has earned a reputation for solving weird homicide cases, but, when she’s called to a lecture hall at the local university, she faces the oddest one yet. During a What If … lecture, run by soon-to-be-retired Professor Gertrude Milligan, two students died. Without any signs of how or why.
Confused, Abby digs in to solve the mystery, only to find several old cases connect—or do they? Were the two students murdered, or was something else going on?
Professor Leon Wellington is worried about his aunt Gertie. Their personal history was bad enough, but to have two of her favorite students die right in front of her has left her shocked and grieving. How can she not be a prime suspect in this case? Then she goes missing …
When the past collides with the present, the stakes are higher than ever, as a killer realizes how close he is to losing everything …
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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What If…
A Psychic Visions NovelBook #20
Dale Mayer
Books in This Series:
Tuesday’s Child
Hide ’n Go Seek
Maddy’s Floor
Garden of Sorrow
Knock Knock…
Rare Find
Eyes to the Soul
Now You See Her
Shattered
Into the Abyss
Seeds of Malice
Eye of the Falcon
Itsy-Bitsy Spider
Unmasked
Deep Beneath
From the Ashes
Stroke of Death
Ice Maiden
Snap, Crackle…
What If…
Talking Bones
String of Tears
Inked Forever
Psychic Visions Books 1–3
Psychic Visions Books 4–6
Psychic Visions Books 7–9
About This Book
Detective Abigail Cartwright has earned a reputation for solving weird homicide cases, but, when she’s called to a lecture hall at the local university, she faces the oddest one yet. During a What If … lecture, run by soon-to-be-retired Professor Gertrude Milligan, two students died. Without any signs of how or why.
Confused, Abby digs in to solve the mystery, only to find several old cases connect—or do they? Were the two students murdered, or was something else going on?
Professor Leon Wellington is worried about his aunt Gertie. Their personal history was bad enough, but to have two of her favorite students die right in front of her has left her shocked and grieving. How can she not be a prime suspect in this case? Then she goes missing …
When the past collides with the present, the stakes are higher than ever, as a killer realizes how close he is to losing everything …
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KILL OR BE KILLED
Part of an elite SEAL team, Mason takes on the dangerous jobs no one else wants to do – or can do. When he’s on a mission, he’s focused and dedicated. When he’s not, he plays as hard as he fights.
Until he meets a woman he can’t have but can’t forget. Software developer, Tesla lost her brother in combat and has no intention of getting close to someone else in the military. Determined to save other US soldiers from a similar fate, she’s created a program that could save lives. But other countries know about the program, and they won’t stop until they get it – and get her.
Time is running out … For her … For him … For them …
DOWNLOADfree military romance? Just tell me where to send it!
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
About This Book
Complimentary Download
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
About Talking Bones
Sneak Peek from Talking Bones
About Simon Says… Hide
Author’s Note
Complimentary Download
About the Author
Copyright Page
Prologue
Seattle, Washington
Gertrude Milligan strode down the stairs, studying the empty amphitheater. She was ready for her class, but, as always, she was a few minutes early. She liked to settle into the space alone, before the doors opened. It helped. After all these years, teaching was getting longer and harder, and she just wanted to sit down, have a cup of tea. But this What If? philosophy class was a new one that she enjoyed teaching, and she was here, bright and early.
As she approached the main platform area, she walked to the podium and dumped her paperwork on top of it. She rolled her neck slightly and stretched her shoulders back. She was coming to the end of her reign. She wasn’t quite ready to retire, but, at sixty-five, she knew it was time. Giving up her research would bother her the most. She absolutely loved the research. She didn’t mind the kids. Some of them were even incredibly intelligent and kept her hopping. They kept her mind going.
And the rest of them were just here because they needed the credits, before they moved on to the rest of their dull, boring lives that had absolutely nothing to do with the what ifs in the world, and that was a damn shame.
She walked to the chalkboard, wincing, because of course, nobody had cleared off the last lecture. She quickly took the eraser and wiped down the board, wrote the name of her current lecture at the top, and underneath it wrote What If? in large bold lettering. Then, just as the doors opened, she turned toward the class. She walked back and forth on the platform, keeping her mind open, thinking about the million things in her day, until slowly the trickle of students came in.
After a glance at her watch, she called out, “Two minutes.” And it always seemed like, in that last minute, about half of the class poured in. She frowned at the noisy group. All of them knew her by now. They’d been in her class for at least three months, were reaching the end of the term, and exams were coming up. She was ready, but she didn’t think they were.
A class like this was supposed to make them think, to keep them on their toes, and to keep their brains nimble. Instead it seemed to have the opposite effect and put so many of these kids to sleep. As Gertrude looked at some of the older students, they were hardly kids anymore. A couple were under twenty, but most of them were in their early twenties, midtwenties, late twenties. She knew at least one was in her midforties. She even had a couple in their sixties here.
“Time,” she called out.
The two students closest to the doors got up, let in a few scrambling students, and then closed and locked the doors. She was strict on that. There were to be no interruptions. If a student couldn’t be here on time, they couldn’t be allowed to disrupt the rest of her class. She waited a moment for everybody to calm down and to stop shuffling. And then she started.
“Good morning, everyone. Glad to see you could make it so early.” They all cracked a smile. “I know. Lots of final projects, lots of studying for exams to do, as we begin next week. This is our last lecture class, but don’t worry. You’ve come this far, and you’ll make it.” A twitter of laughter echoed through the group. She smiled. “As always, we’re talking what ifs. We already discussed in this class: What if aliens arrived? What if Armageddon happened? What if a Third World War happened?
“Today, as in some of the other topics, this one will be completely different. We’ll discuss psychic phenomena. But not just any psychic phenomenon because, of course, it’s a very wide field. There are psychics, and then there are mediums, who don’t necessarily consider themselves psychics—like the aura readers, the healers, all kinds of different classifications and groups. But I want to talk about something completely different today because, of course, my mind always thinks in terms of what if.” She looked around at the class, noting that everybody leaned forward with interest. “Say, for example,” she stated, pointing to the row in front, where three females sat together. “Say these three women were targeted.”
At that, the trio straightened up, and one asked, “Targeted for what?”
Gertie laughed. “I don’t mean targeted, targeted. I don’t mean to be stalked or with a target on your back or with a gun or something. But let’s just say, what if you had a back door into your mind? What if other people had a way to put ideas in your head? What if people could control your thinking? What if people not only controlled your thinking but your actions? Has anybody ever thought about this?”
A couple students put up their hands.
She continued. “And you’re thinking more of the movies, aren’t you? Like, you know, mind control and other things like that, right?”
They both nodded.
“Right? So think about psychics. Think about energy. Think about people who can heal somebody else just by waving their hands over the surface of an injury and pouring supposedly loving energy into that area. What about people who can stand here and look at you and see your past life all in your energy?” She waved her hand around one of the male students, standing off to the side. “They can check out your history. They can go into something called akashic records—the Book of Life—and see all kinds of stuff.
“And then we have others, energy forms, where people have hooks into each other because, of course, we either love or hate them. These can form at birth, and they can continue right through until your death. Sometimes people say diseases can be caused this way because you’re so full of other people’s negative energy that you poison your own soul,” she murmured. “But what if—now think about this—what if there was a back door to your mind? And somebody else had access to it?”
She looked at the three women, part of her previous example to the class. “I mean, just what if somebody stood up here today, without you even knowing it, and could get into your mind, while you sat here in class? What if that were possible? Now think about it, and then raise your hands and toss out the possibilities of what we could be looking at.”
After that, the class discussion was a little slow to start, but then people came up with myriad ideas about how to run countries, how to control somebody’s love life, how to gain access to bank accounts, how to control relationships. Gertrude nodded and wrote a lot of them on the board.
“Think bigger. Think Third World War,” she suggested. “What if somebody was controlling somebody else from a distance? I mean, just because we have a back door to the mind, does that mean the person has to be sitting right beside you in order to control your mind?” She looked at the trio of students again and asked, “What if the one in the middle could access the two outer women of this group?”
The women just stared at Gertrude, and the one in the center, Carrie, said, “I don’t think I like being here.”
Gertrude laughed. “Think about it. What if somebody from somewhere else in the world had access because energy”—and she turned to look at the class—“energy …”
And the class cried out, “Has no boundaries. For energy, there is no life. There is no death. Energy is forever. Energy only transforms. So what if?”
By the time the hour-long class was more or less done, it had been a very animated session, and Gertrude was delighted. She readied the last of the homework for her next class. “It’s that time, and it’s been a pleasure, everybody. Good job. Feel free to take off, to get ready for your exams, and we’ll see you next term maybe. If not, have a good life.”
And, with that, everybody gathered up their stuff.
Gertrude walked over to the chalkboard, grabbed the eraser, and started clearing off all the notes that she had put there. A small shriek and a weird silence had her turning to look. She asked, “What’s the matter?”
While everybody else was still streaming out the doors up at the top, an entire group of people around the front row just stared at Gertrude and then looked at the group of women, still seated there.
“We forgot one what if,” said Carrie in the middle, who now stood, her voice high and strained.
“What’s that?” Gertie asked.
“What if the back door to the mind could kill someone?”
Gertie shrugged. “Well, if anything else is possible, that is too. Why?” she asked.
Carrie looked at her professor in shock, then turned to the women seated on either side of her. “Because both of them are dead.”
Chapter 1
Detective Abigail Cartwright stood at the top of the amphitheater and studied the layout ahead of her. Her partner was on the way. Forensic technicians were moving silently in their blue suits and booties, and, up at the front, an older lady sat, perched stiffly on a stool. Her energy looked like it had completely drained away, leaving only her ramrod spine to keep her in an upright position. A man stood at her side, with a hand around her upper arm, as if giving her strength. And maybe he was. Abby definitely noted a connection between the two. At that moment her partner, Harvey, stepped up to her side.
“I heard this one is bizarre.” Just enough amusement was in Harvey’s tone to make her groan.
“Aren’t they all?” Abby sighed tiredly, not wanting to even open her other sight. Just the thought brought on a headache. Then the headaches had been getting steadily worse over the last few years—to the point she’d wondered if she needed to change her line of work to ease them back. There’d been a lot of bizarre cases lately. She was ready for a nice simple open-and-shut murder case. Too bad this wouldn’t be one. “But they all come down to the same thing though. Somebody killed somebody else, for some reason important only to them. We just have to find out what that reason is, then backtrack it to whoever did it.”
Harvey and Abby walked down the wide steps between the rows of seating. There was an odd echo to her steps on the wide wooden stairs. Almost like the sound of the booming inside her head. The huge amphitheater lecture hall sloped down to the small center stage, backed up to a wall, sporting supersize black chalkboards and also whiteboards.
“And yet in this case,” he added, “nobody saw anything.”
She nodded. “I heard that. That’s not exactly news either. The bit of briefing I got was garbled, to say the least.”
“Exactly.” He motioned toward the two females sitting in the lowest row, facing the podium. “Two dead? That’s odd.”
“Yes, and the woman sitting right between them is not dead and apparently didn’t see anything.” He looked at her sideways, and she nodded. “Which makes her the likeliest suspect, I know.”
“But why would you kill people in front of everybody else, when you’ll be the obvious suspect?” He studied the hall. “That makes no sense.”
“Because,” Abby added, “if nobody saw anything, including the suspect student in the middle, it’s pretty damn hard to prove it, isn’t it? She’s also the one who’s the most visible, and, therefore, in a way, the one least likely to have done it. She looks like she’s completely innocent, yet it’s also possible these women were killed to get at her.”
“That’s another option.” He nodded. “I hadn’t really considered that.”
“As soon as we found out a woman was in the center,” she murmured, “I immediately thought, either she’s a victim or she’s the target.” Of course Abby had been wrong before. So keeping an open mind was paramount.
“Interesting.” Harvey paused. “Well, this will be one for the books either way.”
“Yeah, let’s just hope it’s not too crazy a case.” She was making a name for herself but not in a way that made her comfortable.
“Hey, you’re getting well-known for handling crazy.”
“But that’s the last thing I want to be well-known for,” she replied in alarm. “I’d like crazy to disappear.”
“Oh, come on. Crazy has no intention of disappearing,” he noted cheerfully. “Besides, just think how much less boring our world is, compared to the other detectives.”
“I get it,” she agreed, “but you know these crazy cases are guaranteed to keep you up at night. Besides, you’re the one who gets nightmares over these types of cases.”
“Hell.” He snorted in disgust. “I haven’t slept in forever.”
She wanted to make a comment about it because she could smell the booze on his breath but didn’t dare. He was pretty sensitive to it, and with good reason. But, at the same time, as long as he was sober and did his job and didn’t kill her when he was driving them around one day, she was willing to give him the chance to keep functioning at the level that she needed.
He was her partner, and definitely a bond existed between them, but also a sadness—knowing that he was sliding downhill, out of control, and she could do only so much to help. Particularly when he couldn’t or wouldn’t see that he had a problem, and he didn’t want any help, for sure. They’d worked together for six years now. Since she’d first made detective at the age of twenty-seven. He’d known her for years before. Had even helped her pass her exams and had asked for the partnership. She’d been thrilled.
Abby descended the amphitheater-style lecture room stairs studying the layout of the room. Hard to imagine a double murder could go unnoticed in a full class.
“Did you ever go to school at a place like this?” Harvey asked her.
“I did attend a few classes,” she replied quietly.
“What, for philosophy or something like that, wasn’t it?”
She nodded slowly, not filling him in on the details.
“And why did you quit?”
“You know why I quit,” she said. “I found law enforcement and went there instead.” She’d been trying to get into the academy at the time but exploring options—in case she didn’t make it in.
“Oh, right.”
Although she still hadn’t found all the answers to her parents’ deaths, when she was just a child of eight, it had set her on the path of justice. She suspected that, at this point, there was no walking away. She periodically entertained the idea that she would do something different one of these days, but it never seemed to happen.
Recently she’d solved a couple really weird cases, so now all the weird cases automatically seemed to come to her. And she was okay with that, except that she knew she was crossing some lines in terms of what the world would accept for answers, and that made it tough to deal with. How did you give a victim’s family answers that dealt with psychics and energy work? Not that she was a pro at any of that. In truth she was a rookie, and her skills, no matter how hard she tried, never improved.
Stefan would tell her that she had the ability to do so much more, but she’d blocked it. Sometimes she’d like to block Stefan. Then he’d been with her longer than Harvey. Stefan, always a nag in the background. She almost smiled at that, knowing he likely heard her.
Calling Stefan a friend seemed to cross a line, but he was one and had helped her on a few odd cases that didn’t follow normal patterns, as they’d been beyond odd. The department heads hadn’t been happy, but in the end, cases solved, they’d swallowed their chagrin and had quickly moved on. She shouldn’t be held responsible for that, but, of course, she was. Life was just like that. People were just like that. And that gave her absolutely no other place to go really, except down the rabbit hole of weirdness. She shrugged; she was good with having her own niche in which to work her magic, and she would keep putting away criminals, as long as they kept coming onto her radar.
She reached the lower front section, where the two victims still sat. Abby walked up to stand in front of them. Both were female, young, blonde, and pretty. Just something about them had a sisterly look, not in a biological sense, but like sisters in kind. They both were well dressed and looked like they would be best friends, and that was something Abby would check early on, as well as their relationship with the woman who had sat between them. Something else common to both women was no physical sign of how they died. No mess, no blood, no visible injuries. No defensive wounds either. They both looked like they’d just fallen asleep. Their eyes were closed, and they sat upright. Their energy … was already gone.
Hearing more footsteps, she shook her head, then turned to study the coroner, who was coming down the stairs.
“What have you got for me today?” he snapped.
“Two dead within the last couple hours. They apparently died during a lecture.”
He looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“They were in the middle of a philosophy lecture,” she explained. “When everybody got up to leave, these two didn’t move. The woman sitting between them found out both women were dead.”
“Two of them?” he asked, his voice rising.
“Two of them,” Abby repeated, with a nod, “yes.”
He shook his head. “What are the chances I’ll find this is a murder-suicide?”
She stared at him in surprise. “I don’t know. That’s for you to tell me. But I hadn’t considered that.”
He snorted at that. “Like you don’t know half the time before I even have the chance to say anything. So, any guesses on this one?” he asked Abby, his tone sharp, as he studied her.
“I wish I did,” she stated calmly, “but, honest to God, not a whole lot to go on here.”
He nodded. “So, it’ll mostly be the lab that gives us the answers we need, I’d wager.”
“Maybe.” She hesitated. “It’s a weird one though.”
“Right”—he pointedly stared at her—“but that is your domain.”
She laughed at that. Too many people would say that, despite keeping her energy work to herself. Too bad she didn’t have the ability to look at a crime scene like this and see the answers. No. Which was too bad. However, she could tell if someone was lying… if they were having a good day… a shitty day, or if they were hiding something. Other than that her abilities were pretty much useless. Hence Stefan saying she could do so much more if it weren’t for her wall …
“I keep hearing that,” she replied, “but I’m not sure anybody’s domain covers this kind of weird.”
“Yours does, and you’ll find out who did it.” The coroner waved her away. “Go off and do your job and leave me to do mine.”
She nodded and stepped back. Dr. Henshaw liked space, disliked being crowded, and, although he would ask a lot of questions, he really hated if you jumped to conclusions, especially when he hadn’t had a chance to provide any evidence. Assumptions would piss him off. A lesson she’d learned early on. And, of course, that made her a favorite—if any of the detectives could be considered as such—because Henshaw had no tolerance for anyone who couldn’t hold their own. She was well-known for holding her own, only that often came under the label of being abrasive to some, and to still others, bitchy.
She didn’t care what anyone called her, as long as they got out of her way when she had work to do. Kind of like Henshaw himself, actually. She watched as he stepped up, took a closer look at the victims, and muttered, as he started his exams. Abby waited quietly, listening, but hearing absolutely nothing more than what she’d already expected.
She turned to look at the older woman, still sitting on a stool at the front of the stage. Still hovering close was a large man in a suit, now bending over to speak with the professor. Abby walked closer. “Dr. Gertrude Milligan? I’m Detective Abigail Cartwright.” She held up her badge.
The woman looked up with a start, as if she’d zoned out. “Yes, yes.” She tried to stand. “That’s me. Everyone just calls me Gertrude.”
“Okay, please sit down,” Abby said. “I just need to ask you a few more questions.”
The older woman sagged onto her stool. “What happened to them?”
“I don’t know,” Abby replied. “The coroner is here now. He’ll find out.”
“Yes, of course.” Dr. Milligan shook her head. “I don’t mean to be foolish.”
“It’s not foolish,” Abby stated calmly. “We all want answers. Now can you tell me what you saw?”
The older woman immediately turned her palms up. “I would if I could,” she cried out, her voice cracking. “I’m not sure if I saw anything.”
“Explain, please?”
Gertrude went through what happened before and during the class, including all the discussions they had. She had just turned to clean off the chalkboard at the end of the lecture, and everyone started to get up and leave.
“That’s when the commotion started, and Carrie, the girl in the middle, screamed. I turned around to see several people standing and staring at these three women in the front row. When Carrie said both her classmates were dead, I walked over to check, as did several of the students. We checked for a pulse but found nothing and called for help.”
“How many were in your class?”
“I can give you a class list,” she offered, “but we don’t have a sign-in sheet, and I don’t take roll, so I can’t confirm everybody who was here.”
At that, Abby winced. “Do you have any cameras in here?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not in here. Should be some in the hallway though.”
“Fine, we’ll run those.” Abby wrote down a note, as she quickly surveyed the amphitheater. “We’ll contact the university and see where I can access the camera footage.” Abby nodded to herself, turned back to Gertrude, and looked at the man standing beside her. “And who are you?”
“Leon Wellington.” His lazy drawling voice made her look at him a moment longer than was necessary. “Gertie is my aunt, and I’m a prof here on campus as well.”
That startled her. The last thing he looked like was a university professor. He had that lean grace, almost like a model who had learned his poses, getting them right each and every time, but, beyond that single point, she didn’t think anything else was model-like about this man; he was more panther-like. Predatory. “And when did you happen on the scene?”
“She called me,” he replied smoothly, “and said she needed help.”
“Why did she need help?” she asked.
Gertrude spoke up. “Because it was my class, because I’d sustained a shock, because …” She waved her hand. “I hardly need to explain any more than that. Leon is my only family, and I knew he would be here close by to support me.”
“Good enough,” Abby stated calmly, as she turned her gaze from Leon to Gertrude. “What can you tell me about these two students?”
“They were best friends,” she explained. “They always sat together and were always giggling. Sometimes it would get irritating because I wasn’t sure if they were paying any attention to the class, in favor of the boy in the next seat.” She shook her head. “They were boy crazy, like so many women of this age.”
“Right. Do you know if they had boyfriends?”
She shrugged, frowning. “No. I don’t know anything about their personal lives.”
“What was your own relationship with the women?”
“Excellent. Both were sweethearts. Not sure they were particularly worried about an education, but they were always fun to have in my class,” she said warmly, only to suddenly remember they were dead and teared up again. “Let me just say, it was a pleasure to have them in the class.”
“What about other friends they might have had?”
“That’s a question you should put to the woman who sat between them, Carrie. They always sat together, the three of them.”
“Did you see anybody else sitting close to them?” Abby asked.
“No.” This time such bewilderment was in Gertrude’s voice that Abby believed she was telling the truth. “I don’t know if they chose to take some drugs and kill themselves while they were here or if they accidentally overdosed somehow. I can’t imagine anybody was close enough to kill them,” she stated, “and they weren’t necessarily the kind who would cause such hatred to get themselves killed over.”
“It doesn’t take much,” Abby noted, “particularly if they’re both beautiful and if potentially a male were involved.”
Gertrude looked at her in surprise, then understanding slowly dawned. “Well, I suppose that’s possible,” she replied, “but I really don’t appreciate if somebody did this intentionally in my classroom.”
“I don’t think anybody would appreciate that,” Abby stated. “Do you have any contact information for the students? And you mentioned a list.”
“Yes, we can get all that from the registrar.” She gave Abby a wave of her hand. “I don’t have anything to do with their private lives.”
“Do they ever do any extra classes, any tutorials with you? Have you had any contact with them outside the classroom?”
Immediately she shook her head again, “No. None. I see them when they come in for class, and, when they leave, they leave. That’s it.”
“And yet you don’t always see them when they leave either, do you?” she asked.
Gertrude stared at her in confusion.
“You said you were cleaning off the board.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she agreed, “but I do that every time, for the classes coming in after us. It’s only common courtesy.”
“Good,” Abby noted. “So then nothing was out of the ordinary. There was no change in routine, and nothing seemed different today?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. Except …” At that, her nephew squeezed her shoulder.
“Except what?”
Her voice grew thin, as she answered, “Except for today’s topic.”
“What was that?”
“Well, the class is on philosophy, and we were discussing what ifs. Like what if there were an Armageddon, what if we, you know, had a Third World War, what if we were invaded by aliens, things like that.” She paused. “The discussion went on to include psychic phenomenon as well, and, in listing more what if scenarios, I asked, ‘What if there was a back door to their minds? What if somebody could access your brain and make you do things? How would life look then?’”
Abby’s heart froze, and she wanted to retreat a step. But she didn’t dare. Because that would just bring more attention her way. And, damn it, for this being another weird case. It had psychic bullshit written all over it. Hopefully the coroner would find something tangible to take it off that strange list. But, casting a side glance at the two dead women, Abby knew in her heart of hearts that it wouldn’t be that simple. “Interesting choice of a class topic,” she noted quietly.
“Yes, it sparks a lot of ideas from the students. Though I’d never done that particular what if question before. Brainstorming these topics has long been a part of my presentation and not outside the realm of anything else I would have done on another topic.”
“So, you’re saying, you’ve never asked that particular question before?” she asked curiously.
“No, never.”
Abby stared out and around, wondering if that had any importance for this crazy day. She pulled out her notebook and wrote down a few notes.
At that, Leon asked, “Detective, does that matter?”
“Does what matter?” she asked.
“The subject my aunt was teaching today.”
“Well, we wouldn’t like to think so,” she replied, “but the fact that it’s different means that it’s noteworthy. It’s just one more thing in a long chain of events that makes it a different scenario. Is it important? I have no way of knowing yet.”
And she wouldn’t explain it to him, even if she did. This was definitely a hands-off investigation, and she didn’t care who didn’t like it. Except there was something about him … She took a peek at his energy, but, outside of being upset—and that tracked through his energy blending with Dr. Milligan’s energy—he appeared to be telling the truth. Although a hint of darkness was in his aura. Trauma from the past perhaps?
Boom went the pain in her head. Gasping slightly, she shut down her inner gaze and turned toward the tearful professor.
“I would like to be kept in the loop,” Leon said smoothly, as if sensing her boundaries on this case.
She looked at him blandly. “I’m sorry. That’s not our protocol.”
He just nodded quietly.
But something about that gaze was deep, dark, and penetrating. She shook her head. More to shake off the odd connection between them. “You, of course, can talk to the police commissioner, but that won’t be something I’ll be bringing up with him, and I can’t have you interfering with my case in any way,” she warned.
He stared at her. “In what way could I interfere?”
“I have no idea.” She studied him. “I just want to let it be known straight up front that no interference will be tolerated.”
He smiled, as if he’d heard it all before and had half expected it. Well, maybe not expected it but wasn’t surprised to hear it. “Interesting,” he murmured, “but taken under consideration.”
“Good. She turned to look around at the forensics team. “We’ll be here for a few hours, and I’ll need to contact you again with more questions,” she stated, looking at the professor.
Gertrude nodded. “Is it possible I could leave now?”
“Yes, absolutely, as long as I have your contact information, so we can follow up later.” And, with that, Abby took down Gertrude’s phone number and her address, and then Abby stepped back, looked at Leon. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he asked helpfully. “Do you want my contact information too?”
Something almost personal and private was in that tone of voice, but it sounded false, like he was hiding something.
Keeping her tone even, she agreed. “That would be good, in case we had trouble reaching your aunt.”
He gave it without issue. Something odd was in his mannerisms, but she couldn’t place it. Personal, almost intimate, yet different. So weird. Then he helped his aunt, as they both left the room.
Her partner walked down the stairs and looked at her. “What was that?”
“What was what?” she asked, turning to face Harvey.
“Whatever is going on between the two of you.”
She noted an odd look in his eyes, as he watched her closely. “I’m not sure anything is,” she answered quietly, knowing how well Harvey knew her. “Why?”
“Oh, he was making a play for you. I just don’t know why.”
“What? Meaning, I’m so ugly that nobody would be bothered?” she asked humorously.
“No. We all know that you’re gorgeous. But you also keep your private life very separate from work. But, of course, that guy doesn’t know it.” Harvey leaned closer. “But he gave it a try anyway. Bet he tries again too.”
“Hopefully not,” she stated cheerfully. “Then I wouldn’t have to smack him down. Can’t say I enjoy that part.”
*
Leon assisted Gertie, as he’d called her for decades, out of the building. “I want to take you straight home,” he murmured. She tried to rally, but he saw the stiffness sliding out of her spine. “This isn’t one of those times when you have to be strong.”
“It’s a bad day.” Her voice quivered. “Those poor women.”
“There’s still a chance it was natural causes.”
She sent him a sharp look, before snapping, “I’m not a fool.”
“No, you’re not,” he murmured quietly. “I’ve never thought that.”
“You didn’t tell her what you teach here?”
“She’ll find out soon enough. She’d had it with me already, it seemed, so …” He just shrugged. His specialty was criminal law, but he also taught a class on mythical and paranormal events. His criminal background had him lending a hand in local cases, whenever the police needed a consultant.
“Be interesting if they asked you to consult with her. She seemed to take a dislike to you.”
“I don’t know about that.” He’d found her fascinating, so he hoped that hadn’t been her reaction.
“God, I still can’t believe that happened.” Gertie reached up her bony hand to gently push back a wisp of hair off her face. “Those poor women.”
He studied her hand carefully. She was shaking, her arm only slightly uncoordinated but heavy. “Will you be all right at home?”
Immediately she stiffened, outraged. “Of course I will. I had nothing to do with what happened to those women in the first place. Now that I’ve answered the questions the police have, it’s up to them to sort this out.”
He admired that sense of calm and righteousness. It never really worked out so well for him, but, in her world, a spinster all her life, it had held her in good stead in getting through those years when everybody thought she should have been married, the years where she had wished she had been married, the years where she had desperately wanted children but had never found a partner.
Not that she ever admitted all that. Yet Leon felt he knew Gertie well enough to make those assumptions and for them to be valid. A lot of disappointments had filled his aunt’s life. Although she was a hard person to get close to, she was essentially a good person inside, but she hid behind a stiff, crusty exterior. Still, he understood how the disappointments had rocked her over the years.
He drove them carefully through town, before pulling up in front of her brownstone. “Do you want me to come in?”
“No, of course not.” She unbuckled her seat belt. “I’m totally fine.”
“You may well be,” he replied, “but that doesn’t mean you always have to be so strong.”
“Of course I do.” She widened her eyes, as she looked at him in surprise. “There’s no other way to be. You know that.”
He winced. “Well, it would be nice to think that you didn’t have to be that way all the time.”
“Nonsense. This life is what you make it.” She unlocked the car door, stepped out, looked back at him. “Don’t you go worrying about me now. I’ll be fine.” And, with that, she slammed the car door. With her back ramrod straight, she strode up to her front door.
He watched her carefully, looking for any break in that facade she always put up, but she appeared to be holding steady. He sighed as he put his car in gear, then pulled back out into the traffic. He returned to the university because he was overwhelmed in paperwork. But one of the things that he really didn’t enjoy was to leave her like this, if she needed somebody. The trouble is, she was one of those people who always made a point of never needing anybody, which made it frustrating to lend her a helping hand.
Just the two of them were left in the family, and he thought it likely that she did allow him into her life more than anybody else, if there had been anybody else. But he didn’t even know that for sure. She had always been difficult to get along with. It was her way or the highway. He had no trouble with Gertie, but he understood who she was and where she was coming from. Not everybody was willing to go that extra mile and give her a little bit more leeway.
Back in his own parking spot at the university, he hopped out and headed toward his office. As it happened, he crossed paths with the same detective again.
She looked at him, then frowned, as if trying to remember where she’d seen him, and then her face cleared. “Did you get your aunt home okay?”
He nodded. “Yes, but she’s pretty shaken up.”
“Of course,” she said gently. “It’s been a shock for her.”
“You’re right.” Leon searched for her partner, off to the side on the phone. “I guess the investigation will take a few days.”
“We’ll be lucky if it’s done by then,” she stated quietly. “Sometimes it can take a whole lot more.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” he muttered. He smiled, as he stepped past her. “Good luck with your hunting, Detective.”
Her eyebrows shot up at that, and he felt her eyes boring into the back of his head, as he headed for his office. But he didn’t give her any more clarification. It was a fairly well-known phrase in the military and in law enforcement. He had joined the military at eighteen, did a tour, then moved into law enforcement at twenty-two, before adding fifteen years on the force and then moving on again.
Now, as a professor for the last two years, he was thirty-nine, and the years had seemed to disappear so quickly for him. He imagined that was probably how his aunt felt as well. Time just flew by when you were busy. He smiled, thinking about it.
Still, he’d been almost married once, and that had been enough for him, at least for now, but he had to admit something about that detective intrigued him. An age-old weariness was in her gaze, as if she’d seen more than she’d ever expected to see in this lifetime. But also a naughty humor, as if to say, “Well, here we go again. Let’s see what we find this time.” He wondered at that dichotomy. It was unusual in one so young, but then, as he thought about it, maybe she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought. She had that hard edge of experience.
He headed toward his office, then looked up to see a line of students waiting outside. He groaned. “What’s going on here?”
The students moved toward him.
One said, “I have a few questions.”
Another one stepped up. “I have questions on the exams coming up.”
He stared at them. “And yet you all seem to be here at once. Why is that?”
They shrugged.
“More for moral support,” one of the younger women explained. “After the murders today, we’re all a little shook up.”
He winced at that. “If it was murder, yes, but we don’t know yet. Come on in.” He opened up his door and stepped inside, while the six students filed in behind him. He walked around the corner of his desk and stood facing them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” one woman replied cheerfully. “I just, you know, had some questions.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Real questions?”
“Of course.” She nodded. “About the exams.”
“Well, I’m not answering any questions about the exams,” he stated immediately. “I told you that in class.”
“But everybody gives us extra help when it comes to the exams,” she protested.
“Not everyone does,” he said, “and I certainly won’t. You’re expected to have paid attention in class.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, “but I still don’t understand some factors.”
“Well, if you have a specific question about a factor that you don’t understand, that’s a different story. But, if you’re asking for insight into what the exams could be about, I gave you that information already. So you’re out of luck if you’re looking for more.” He turned to the next one. “And you?”
She said, “I’m with her.”
“And you?”
By the time he had addressed all the students’ concerns, and they had left, he felt a little more tired than he should be. But it seemed like, no matter what year, what group, a portion of the student body always looked to step in closer to get a little bit more information, a little bit more insight into what the exams would bring. Extra insight that the other students didn’t need or want.
It happened every time, but he still found it wearying. No matter how many times he told them that he wasn’t giving them more information, it seemed like they needed to be told over and over again, hoping he would say it in a different way, so they would glean that little bit more. But it wouldn’t happen. He’d been at this just long enough to understand the behaviors of his students.
Finally he got up and closed his briefcase, taking work home yet again, and he headed out the office door. He gave a last fleeting thought about the two dead women in the amphitheater, hoping that, by now, the families had been notified, and the bodies removed. It would take time to absorb the news, then find the way forward. The university’s reputation was one of the big concerns. They didn’t need any more bad press. There had been just enough trouble with cheating scandals and other rumors flying around that they had hoped for a few clean years without any bad press.
Unfortunately this would be the kind of bad press the university could not escape from.
Chapter 2
Abby walked into the small university staff room, where the one student—who’d been sitting between the two dead women—had been sequestered. But instead of looking like she might have recovered slightly over the last hour or more sitting here, she actually appeared catatonic. Abby looked around to see if she was alone or if somebody was with her, but Abby saw no sign of anyone, outside of the policewoman standing off to the side. Abby immediately walked over, sat down, and picked up the girl’s cold hands.
“Carrie, are you okay? I’m Detective Abigail Cartwright. I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”
Carrie slowly lifted her head and looked up, her eyes huge wells of pain, and whispered, “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” Abby replied, “but I still need to ask you some questions.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t see anything,” she said. “But how could that have happened? How could I have been sitting right there and not seen anything? Two people, my two best friends at that, are dead. They died right in front of me, and I didn’t notice anything. How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.” Abby studied Carrie. “What did you see?” The young woman had been traumatized by the day’s events, and she’d be lucky to remember anything. However, nothing was off about her energy; it was full of pain and grief, as to be expected. Abby immediately shut down that part of her vision, trying to head off the oncoming headache before it grabbed hold.
“I saw the professor. It was an interesting class. I was paying attention to her.”
“Why did you sit in that place, in that particular seat?”
“I always do.” She looked at Abby in confusion. “The three of us always do.”
“You always sit at the front of the class?”
“We do if we like the class,” she added. “If it’s one we’re likely to want to skip out on, we sit at the back, so that our leaving won’t be so obvious and disturb people.”
That made sense. Abby pressed her point a little further. “In the time that you were sitting there, did anybody else come and join your row?”
She looked at her in surprise. “I don’t think so, but I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the professor.”
“But you weren’t paying attention to the prof the whole time, were you?”
“Enough,” she said. “I didn’t really see anything happen around me. Plus I was in the middle, so wouldn’t I have noticed?”
“Did anybody come and talk to the two women?”
She shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“So, it was a completely routine class?” Abby asked.
“Routine, except that they’re dead,” Carrie wailed.
“I get that,” Abby said, “and that’s why I’m asking the questions I’m asking. We have to find out what happened.”
“And I don’t know what could have happened,” she murmured. “All I can think of is that maybe they had food poisoning or something.”
“Interesting option. Did the coffee taste okay? Did they complain of feeling sick? Did you guys eat before class?”
She nodded. “We stopped at the little cafeteria round the corner from class. It’s in the same building, and there was no line outside, so we went up and got coffee.”
“All three of you?”
Carrie nodded. “All three of us got coffee. It’s kind of a routine for us.”
“Okay, did you get anything to eat with it?”
She stopped, looked at her in confusion, then her face cleared. “No.” She shook her head. “We didn’t. We just drank our coffee.”
Abby made a note of that on her notepad to check out the coffee.
“Yeah, at least I didn’t notice anything different. But, you know, I just drank mine, almost by habit. They weren’t complaining either.”
Abby winced at that coffee comment because she was guilty of the same thing. You pick up a wonderful coffee, and then you just get so busy that you don’t even get a chance to enjoy it. You sense that it went down the hatch, but not in the way where you actually appreciated it. “What about your friends? Did they have any enemies? Any arguments? Stalkers? Recent breakups that turned ugly? Anything to say someone might have done this?”
“No,” Carrie whispered. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about it, and there’s nothing. Neither had any recent boyfriends. It was always the two of them and then me. I was on the outside. Friends with both but not part of their duo. Not everyone loved them, but, in all the years I’ve known them, and that’s over ten now, I’ve never seen anyone actively dislike them.”
“Okay.” Abby nudged Carrie back to the day’s events. “Is there anything else you can tell me about what went on today? Was anybody acting oddly, anybody being difficult, giving the prof a hard time or causing a disruption?”
She shook her head. “No, we were really engaged in the class today. It was kind of a fun one, something to make us, the whole class, sit up and think.” Carrie sighed. “Honestly I don’t even know what to say. We’ve really enjoyed the class, and I was sorry it was coming to an end.”
“So, you had no problems with the professor?”
“No, none at all. She’s been really good,” she stated. “I’ve always heard rumors that she can be hard to deal with and a tough grader, and maybe that’s fair, but honestly the class was more interesting than most. And, early on, I knew I would see it through, even if it meant a lower grade than other classes.”
“Do you think anybody held a grudge against her? Like, was anybody openly upset about the marks that she gave?”
The young woman stared at her. “I have no idea,” She shrugged. “Our scores are always posted by student number on the board outside, so nobody knows who got what. It’s a common system. Your marks are your marks, and you either do the work and get better marks, or you don’t do the work, and you don’t.” She shook her head. “I honestly don’t have a clue who got what.”
“Okay, but if somebody did get a low grade, have you seen any animosity toward the professor, anybody causing issues during class, anybody being disruptive or yelling at her?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not, besides”—confused, she frowned—“what’s that got to do with my friends?”
“I don’t know,” Abby murmured. “Nothing perhaps, but, because it was a classroom scenario, we have to check everything.”
Carrie nodded, as if understanding, but clearly she didn’t have a clue.
Abby asked, “Are you a local?”
“No.” Carrie gave a quick headshake. “I’m living on campus, but I’m actually from Montana.”
