Cassidy grimaced.
“And Mr. Ford doesn’t want whatever trouble she’s stirred up to hurt her reputation,” Dr. Gorman replied evenly.
“More like he doesn’t want it to hurt his reputation,” Cassidy mumbled.
“That may be true,” Richard admitted. “But I suppose we can’t blame him.”
Cassidy wasn’t so sure about that.
“Apparently she’s done this before,” Richard said with a heavy sigh.
“Done what, exactly?” Cassidy asked.
“Run off.”
Run off. Cassidy thought about this for a moment. Why would a grown woman need to run off? It sounded overly dramatic, though this was Izzy they were talking about.
“He can turn over her credit card records. I should have them by the time you arrive.”
“Wait, if he’s so savvy on tracking her down, why doesn’t he do it himself? Or hire someone?”
“Because he needs this done quietly,” Richard had said.
Cassidy’s suspicions about mighty Preston Ford being more concerned about protecting his own reputation resurfaced. Martin had said something about it earlier, about Preston Ford worrying about the media—his media, no doubt—discovering Izzy’s disappearance. The tabloids would have a field day with such news, plus, it would make the U. of O. Geology Department look bad. Really bad, especially on the heels of Dominique’s unsolved disappearance.
Cassidy realized that she and Martin would take the fall. This insight crashed down on her shoulders like a heavy wave. Not Martin, she thought, refusing to entertain the idea of such a bright, hardworking scientist’s entire career being destroyed because of some bratty student’s prank.
“But Izzy is also an adult. If she’s on some kind of bender, why track her down at all? She’s smart,” Cassidy said. “She’ll figure it out and come back when she wants.”
“Preston Ford isn’t willing to take that chance.”
After parking in the garage familiar to her from her days as a postdoc, Cassidy walked the quiet pathways to the redbrick geology building and continued down the dim hallway, then long-legged up the stairs to the second floor. Even though morning light from the windows shone through, the long corridor felt dark and empty. Most professors completed their field work in the summers, so Cassidy suspected that a majority of the offices she passed were empty.
A light shone from underneath Richard’s thick wooden door. The instant she knocked, a voice answered: “Enter.”
Cassidy stepped into Richard’s square-shaped office, realizing that although she had spent two years as a postdoc in this very department, she had never set foot in this room. A small entryway was furnished with a faded paisley-pattered couch, its cushions compressed from use, opposite a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf packed with all manner of books and journals.
“Thank you for coming,” Richard said, rising from his desk that overlooked a broad window at the back of the room.
Richard wore a pale blue button-down shirt tucked into khaki walking shorts; his skinny legs extending stork-like into white socks and a faded pair of running shoes so large Cassidy immediately thought of canoes. Though Richard looked the part of a department head, the placket of his buttons did not line up with his midline, one of the cuffs of his shirt was rolled partway while the other was unbuttoned and open, flapping like a luffing sail when he gestured for her to take a seat on his couch.
“Of course,” Cassidy said.
His creased, sun-worn face looked haggard as he turned his desk chair to face her and sank into it.
“I’m glad you came so quickly.” He turned and scooped several 8 ½ by 11 sheets of paper from his desk and handed them to Cassidy, leaning forward so that the black-rimmed bifocals tethered around his neck swung into space.
Cassidy glanced at the top sheet which contained a list of phone numbers.
“This is the field camp roster, including phone numbers and addresses. Mr. Ford has also sent her credit card statement.”
“So, do you want me to call all of these numbers?” Cassidy asked as she shuffled through the pages, feeling lost. “Martin has already talked to some of them.” She frowned. “Izzy isn’t in Eugene.”
“Yes, I know that,” Richard said.
“So . . . ” Cassidy connected with Richard’s steely blue gaze.
“We have until tomorrow morning to locate her,” Richard said. “Or Preston Ford will have no choice but to take this to the next level.”
Cassidy winced, imagining how the media would tear Martin apart, and coupled with Dominique’s disappearance, University of Oregon as a whole. “That’s hardly fair,” she protested. “Knowing Izzy, she took off for some reason and is enjoying kicking up her heels somewhere. Sure, Martin should have done a more thorough search of the van before leaving Biggs Junction. But this wasn’t some fourth-grade trip to the zoo. It’s not like she wandered off.” The more Cassidy had thought it through, the more she was convinced that Izzy had left the van on purpose. But why? What would make her do such a thing?
“Whatever her reasons, we are still responsible,” Richard replied, shifting in his chair. “You realize what Preston Ford could do to Martin? The department? To you?” he said, standing, his eyes seeming to search the shelves for guidance, but Cassidy knew he would find no help from books destined for scholars. He turned to her, his face flushed. “Can you imagine a geology department without field camp?”
Cassidy shrunk back. “No,” she replied.
“Think about Martin. He’ll never be able to teach with something like this on his record.”
Cassidy glanced at the papers in her lap. She knew Richard was right. If Martin was accused of negligence regarding a student, his career path would be severely limited, if he wasn’t kicked out of the program entirely. The thought made her sick. Martin was a good kid, with a bright future. He shouldn’t have to pay for a student’s selfish actions.
“And you,” he added. “If you intend to keep your job at the University of Washington, and make tenure, this affects your career too.”
Cassidy felt the tingle of fear spread through her skin. He’s right, she thought. I finally have everything I want—a lab of my own,
