To Spencer’s right, the visitor seating section was overflowing. Several people sat on the floor, and one man wearing baggy jeans and a Hawaiian shirt was poking the man sprawled next to him.
When the guy got his friend’s attention, he said, “Bro, I thought you weren’t planning on running today.”
The man shrugged and said, “I wasn’t. But those damn cops came out of nowhere.”
Spencer rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the people swarming the dispatch area.
The uniformed woman behind the counter was shaking her head and repeating, “Please take a seat. An officer will be with you shortly.”
Spencer assumed the mob was due to the massive pileup that had shut down Trouper Avenue. He had heard about the mess on the radio. A semi had flipped over making a turn and cars had rear-ended each other like a line of falling dominoes.
Normalton was a small community, but due to the three colleges and the town’s vintage car and motorcycle collection, there was always a lot of traffic. This week, adding to the congestion was the symposium that Normalton University’s parapsychology department was hosting.
NU was one of only a handful of schools that had a department the focused on the study of paranormal and psychic phenomena, and it made the university unique among its Midwestern peers. So far, Spencer hadn’t had any dealings with that part of NU, and he hoped that would continue to be true.
Edging his way through the throng, he caught the woman’s attention and said, “Spencer Drake for Chief Cleary. I have an eleven thirty appointment.”
The officer seemed relieved that he wasn’t another accident victim and pointed up. “Second floor.”
Spencer thanked her and fought his way past the horde. The elevator spit him out into another waiting area, but this one was unoccupied and blessedly quiet after the cacophony downstairs.
The doorway to the chief’s administrative assistant’s office was open and Spencer stepped inside. The front two-thirds of the room was lined with rows of gray metal file cabinets and shelves containing thick red, yellow, and blue three-ring binders grouped according to color. A teenager bobbing to whatever she was listening to through her earbuds was sitting behind the desk at the rear.
Spencer cleared his throat, and when that had no effect, he said, “Miss?”
Nothing. He repeated the word louder, but there was still no response, so he stepped closer and gingerly tapped the girl on the shoulder.
The adolescent jumped as if she’d been tasered, then shouted, “What the hell, dude! You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry, miss.” Spencer bit back a lecture about being more aware of one’s surroundings. “I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”
Glaring, the girl said, “Maybe that’s because I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“The door was open,” Spencer pointed out, then said, “I have an appointment to see Chief Clearly at eleven thirty. Is she ready for me?”
“Sure.” The teenager smirked. “You can go in.”
“Can you let the chief know that I’m here?” The girl was definitely up to something.
The teenager peered at him for a long moment, then demanded, “Who are you?”
“Spencer Drake.” When the girl had screamed, Spencer had moved back from the desk, but now he leaned forward and held out his palm. “And you?”
The teenager tentatively shook Spencer’s hand and muttered, “I’m Chloe.”
“Good to meet you, Chloe.” Spencer smiled. “I’m the head of campus security at NU. Are you thinking of going there when you graduate?”
“Seriously?” Chloe couldn’t have been more than thirteen, but she had the teenage attitude down pat. “Why would I go to a second-rate school like that?” She examined her bright-blue nail polish and rubbed at a chipped spot. “I’m going to Barnard or Wellesley.”
The girl wore a pair of denim shorts, a pink T-shirt with I’M A GENIUS printed in black, and metallic high-top sneakers. Her white-blond hair was in a braid, and she shoved her oversize, black-framed glasses on her head to hold back her long bangs.
She gazed at him, as if waiting for a response. But when Spencer remained silent, she shrugged, picked up the phone, and said, “Your eleven thirty is here.” Hanging up, Chloe announced, “The chief will see you now.”
Spencer still didn’t trust her. “Are you sure?”
Chloe wrinkled her nose and said, “Of course. Go ahead.”
Spencer shrugged and walked over to the door the girl indicated. He grabbed the knob and swung it open. A fortysomething woman sat on the lap of a slightly older man. The couple was kissing, the remains of their brunch abandoned on the desktop in front of them.
At Spencer’s entrance, they looked up and the woman checked her watch, then said, “Oops. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Jet surprised me. He just got home from his latest tour of duty.” She got to her feet and crossed to Spencer. “I’m Meredith Cleary.”
“Spencer Drake.” Spencer shook her hand and said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Chloe told me you were ready to see me, but I guess she didn’t really call you. I can wait outside.”
“No.” Chief Cleary chuckled. “My daughter isn’t too thrilled about my second marriage. She wanted me to stay a widow forever.”
“I see.” Spencer waited until the chief’s husband finished stuffing the remains of their meal into a paper bag, then introduced himself.
“Jet Porter.” The men shook hands and Jet said, “Nice to meet you. My son is on your team at NU. He admires the direction you’re taking with security.”
“You’re Robert Porter’s father?” Spencer could see the resemblance. Both men were tall, lean, and had the same coal-black hair. “I enjoy working with him. He’s been an asset in many situations.”
Jet beamed. “I’m real proud of him.” His dark-brown eyes sparkled as he turned to his wife, kissed her cheek, and said, “I’d better get going before I totally ruin your reputation as a hard-ass.”
“Right.”
