“Okay. I’ll ask. And I’ll leave you out of it completely.”
Kaylee let out a breath and smiled. “Awesome.”
Katherine didn’t care for Ansel Shaver much more than the four octopi did. Maybe it was her own experiences with psychologists when she was younger, but something about the man seemed cold. Her own counselor had been a warm and practical woman who guided Katherine through understanding her social anxiety. Ansel didn’t have warmth.
How would he have known an agricultural business student? Why would he ever come in contact with him unless—?
Oh.
Ohhhhh. No wonder Kaylee wanted her name left out of it.
The only reason Katherine could think of for Professor Ansel Shaver to have interacted with Justin McCabe was because of his student study the year before. It was entirely confidential, but Katherine had been generally aware of a large study Ansel had directed the previous academic year. He’d teamed up with four other behavioral sciences professors to administer it if she remembered correctly. If Justin McCabe had been a participant in the study, Ansel might know him. Or he might have been one of a hundred numbers in a computer. It really depended on the study.
Which led to so many other questions.
What was the study about?
Could something involved in it have been the catalyst for Justin McCabe’s attempted violence?
Unfortunately for her insatiable curiosity, there was no way for Katherine to access the information. The university was a vault when it came to the privacy of students who participated in clinical research.
Of course, this was Central Coast State. Officially, the participants wouldn’t even use their names. Unofficially… it was a pretty small school. Inevitably, some students would know the professors or graduate students involved.
Katherine wandered back to her closet of an office at the Fred lab and looked at the stack of papers on her desk. They could all wait. Everyone could wait. She felt a sense of urgency come over her. Instinct? Magic? Something else entirely?
Something about Kaylee’s urgency prodded her to find out more.
If Justin McCabe had been part of that study, what had been the objective?
Ansel Shaver was a psychologist. Had there been a pharmaceutical component? Central Coast didn’t have a med school. Who else would have been involved?
Could something about a psychological experiment conducted the year before have had an effect on his behavior months later?
At least the pharmaceutical question could be easily answered. She looked through her bag, found the detective’s business card, and picked up the phone to call the Moonstone Cove Police Department.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Professor Katherine Bassi at Central Coast State. I’d like to speak to Detective Drew Bisset.”
“Let me see if he’s available. I’m going to put you on hold a minute.”
“That’s fine.” She waited on the line a few minutes before the phone clicked and Detective Bisset’s voice came over the line.
“Professor Bassi,” he said. “This is Drew Bisset. How can I help you? How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling pretty well. That’s kind of you to ask. A little sore, but no permanent damage.”
“That’s good news.”
“I had a question about Justin McCabe.”
“I’m not sure how much I can answer, but okay.”
“Did he have any drugs in his system when he committed the crime?” Katherine asked. “I’m specifically thinking about prescribed medications, not illegal drugs. I promise I am asking for a nonfrivolous reason.”
“Be that as it may,” Detective Bisset said, “I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m asking because it’s possible that Mr. McCabe—”
“Ma’am, I really can’t tell you anything about the case.”
She tried not to mutter the words she was thinking. Katherine had a voracious appetite for knowledge. Learning she didn’t know something was not a surprise. Being told she wasn’t allowed to know something was an entirely different level of frustration. Her bullheaded side had been roused.
“Can I have his family’s contact information?”
“No.”
“How about his lawyer’s name?”
“Absolutely not. It’s not a good idea for you to be asking anything about—”
“What about the name Sarah Jordan?” she asked. “Do you know anything about—?”
“Did you say Sarah Jordan?” Detective Bisset’s voice had a sharp edge.
“Yes. She was another student at Central Coast, and five months ago she killed her horse. No warning. Everyone was shocked by the act. They said it was very out of character, just like they’re saying about Justin McCabe and—”
“Professor Bassi.” Detective Bisset cut her off. “I need to go.”
Katherine felt a bit deflated but mostly annoyed. She wasn’t accustomed to being dismissed so quickly. “Obviously I’m not a police detective, but if you could just tell me if the police conducted any investigation into—”
“I really do need to go.” His voice was brusque. “I’m very glad you’re feeling better after your ordeal, and if there’s any information I need from the university, I’ll be sure to let you know. Thank you so much for your offer of help.”
Had she offered to help? The detective hung up the phone before she could ask.
“Irritating man.” She set her phone down on her desk and glanced at the calendar blotter that was more doodles than appointments.
Let’s meet this same time next week.
The week before, Katherine and Megan had poured two glasses of local pinot noir into aluminum travel mugs and walked along the beach for over an hour. Megan chattered about her house, her three children, and when they were well away from any onlookers, she tried moving some rocks on the shore with little success. They shifted a bit, but nothing as dramatic and powerful as the gun.
After that lovely afternoon, Megan had nailed Katherine down to meeting regularly for a glass of wine on Wednesdays. Now it was two days away and Katherine was looking forward to it.
She smiled as she jotted down a note for Wednesday afternoon on the calendar.
Drinks with Megan.
She could tell Megan about Sarah and Justin and her suspicions about the study and see what the other woman thought. Her mind was nimble, and she had a keen understanding of human
