Evan found Lady Margaret Hall without too much trouble. A helpful registrar’s office found him a course schedule for each of the girls. Rachel Greene seemed the easiest to locate. She had a tutorial with her history professor starting at twelve-thirty. Evan found the appropriate room, and didn’t have to wait long before the petite dark-haired girl came along the paneled wooden corridor toward him. She stopped abruptly when she saw him blocking the way.
“Nothing’s happened to Professor Overton, has it?” The light from a leaded window threw sunlight onto her black hair and made dust motes dance around her.
“No, I just wondered if I could have a few words with you. I’m a police officer from North Wales and we’re looking for a missing girl. Rebecca Riesen.”
“Rebecca?” she looked at him in alarm. “She’s missing, you say?”
“Her parents have come over, trying to find her.”
“But that’s terrible. Poor Rebecca.”
“You knew her well, did you?”
“Not well, I wouldn’t say. She was only here for a couple of months, you know, but she sat next to us in the orchestra and we went out for a coffee afterward sometimes. A nice girl—and a very good violinist.”
“You didn’t keep up with her after the end of her term here?”
Rachel made a face. “I meant to, but you know how it is. You promise to write but you don’t.”
“So you’ve no idea of her plans when she left here?”
“I think she was staying with friends in London for the holidays. She said she was having such a good time she wasn’t ready to go home.”
“She didn’t mention wanting to go to North Wales?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, never. She wasn’t really the outdoor type, was she? She used to complain about the rain and cold in Oxford. I don’t know what she would have done on Mount Snowdon. Concerts in London I could understand, but not North Wales.”
“And yet she did go there. To a New Age center.”
She gave him an incredulous stare. “A New Age center—whatever for? Wasn’t that against her religion? She wasn’t trying to convert them, was she? She was one of those dreadfully earnest Christian types. You had to be careful not to swear around her, and she’d never come to the pub for a drink.”
“Did she have any boyfriends, do you know?”
“Not that I know of. She was almost painfully shy and like I said, she’d never come to the pub and places where we go to hang out and meet blokes. Although—” She broke off, frowning in concentration.
“Yes?” Evan asked hopefully.
“She was keen on one bloke, I think. I’m not sure actually if she was keen on him or if she merely wanted to help him. I got the feeling she was the type of person who went around wanting to save people—lame ducks, you know. There was this bloke in the orchestra. Like I said, I don’t know if she fancied him or if she just felt sorry for him because people were being unjust.”
“Unjust?”
“Yes, there were rumors circulating, you know, because the police had had him in for questioning—about Kathy Sparks. They were from the same sort of social set, you see. Both titled families and all that, ridden to hounds from the cradle, friends of the royals. All that sort of bosh.”
“Kathy was the girl who disappeared last year?”
“Yes. She was from this college too. It was horrible. I don’t think they’ve ever found her. It must be awful for her family, mustn’t it?”
“And who was this young man who was questioned by the police?”
“He was in the orchestra with us. Rather geeky—socially inept type.”
“Do you remember his name?” Evan asked.
An elderly woman in academic gown over tweed suit came down the hallway toward them. “Ah, there you are Miss Greene. Are we ready to debate the causes of the Hundred Years War, do you think?”
Rachel gave Evan an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I don’t think I ever knew his name. I have to go to my tutorial now,” she said as the professor swept her in through the paneled door.
Evan turned and ran down the hallway, nearly barreling into another group of female students. He drove straight to the Oxford CID headquarters and was shown to the desk of the D.I. who had been part of the Katherine Sparks investigation.
“No, we’re still no nearer to solving it, I’m afraid,” the inspector said. He was a young man, not much older than Evan by the look of him, but he was already losing his hair. “The girl vanished from the face of the earth. We thought she’d run away to start with, because some of her clothes were gone, but she’s never been seen since, so we have to assume the worst.”
“And you questioned a young man?” Evan could hardly get the words out.
“We questioned lots of young men. The girl was not short of male escorts.”
“This was a shy sort of bloke, who knew her family.”
“Oh, you mean Michael Hollister? Yes, we questioned him, and for a while that lead looked hopeful, but in the end nothing came of it. He had an alibi on the day she went missing.”
“Michael? Oh, my God.” Evan held out a hand, remembered the burns, and withdrew it again. “Thanks for your
