Now
“Professor Harris?”
I look around the door into the office and see the professor sitting behind the desk, scrolling through something on his tablet. It’s a much larger office than the one he was in thirteen years ago, but little else has changed. He’s still sitting surrounded by books and papers. I’m pretty sure the shelves beside him are the exact same ones that were in the corner of the more crowded room.
He has definitely changed. When he looks up at me, I can see the effect of the years on his face and in his eyes.
“Yes? Come on in,” he says.
I step inside and close the office door behind me. I walk toward him, taking in the lines around his eyes and the hints of gray starting at his temples. They remind me of Sam. Only, this man is much older. The bits of gray streaking through Sam’s hair are a gift of genetics. For the professor, they are a result of years of gradual changes to his body.
I realize as I look at him, he was probably only a few years older than I am now when I went to school here. Just like many of the other teachers. Of course, there were some who had already been teaching for decades by the time I passed through their classrooms. But there were more just really settling into their careers.
That was Professor Harris. As I look back now, I realize how young he was. And yet, he seemed so adult, even a little old. He’s thirteen years older than that now, and yet the way my brain has grown and changed, I no longer consider him old.
Just older. Just more experienced in the world. I can only hope that’s how I’ll be able to see myself twenty years from now.
“I’m sorry to just show up here without an appointment,” I start. “I know you’re trying to wrap up for the end of the semester. I don’t know if you remember me. You actually have absolutely no reason to remember me. I wasn’t ever in your class, but I came by to talk with you once.”
“Emma Griffin,” he says.
I’m surprised, and obviously show it on my face, because he laughs. Gesturing to the chair across the desk from him, he sets his tablet down and smiles at me.
“I don’t have that good a memory,” he says. “But I recognize your face from the news. FBI. Very impressive.”
“Thank you,” I say, sitting down.
“Can I hope you aren’t here on official business?” he asks.
“It’s not official business,” I say. “But it’s also not a social visit. I once came here to ask you about a friend of mine. Julia Meyer. Do you remember that?”
He nods. “I do. I can’t say I treasure the memory of that time very much. And now that you mentioned her, I realize it’s not just your TV interviews and news reports over the last couple of years that make me remember you. You caused quite a stir all those years ago.”
“Yes,” I say. “That was the point. Julia was missing and no one was paying attention to me.”
“I remember now. How is she? Do you still keep up with her?” the professor asks.
“She’s still missing,” I tell him. “No one’s heard from her since then.”
He looks taken aback. “I didn’t realize that. I’m so sorry. I never heard anything else about it, so I just assumed it resolved itself.”
“It didn’t have a chance to resolve itself because no one would even open a case. But that’s why I’m here. I’m going to investigate her disappearance again. I know it’s been a long time, but I’m touching base with everybody again to see if anyone might remember anything else. Or to see if something might be significant now that wasn’t then,” I say.
He thinks for a few seconds, then shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help more. This is kind of what I do. I hate that this happened right here on our own campus, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“What do you mean? Who are you talking about?” I ask.
“The criminal justice club,” he says. “It’s just a group of students who are interested in true crime. We get together and discuss different cases, investigation techniques, that sort of thing.”
“I didn’t even know such a thing existed,” I say.
“It would have been great to have you as a part of it back then,” he says.
“You led it back then?” I ask.
“I did,” Professor Harris says. “I started the club,” he looks off to the diagonal and lets out a puff of breath. “Gosh, almost twenty years ago now. I can’t believe it’s been that long.”
“And you never did anything about Julia?” I ask.
“There was nothing to do,” he says. “If I’m not mistaken, according to the police, there was never a crime. Nothing happened except that she left campus, and no one knew where she went. As you apparently know from experience, that’s not too much to go on. But if you find out anything else and need a hand, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’d be happy to help.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Thirteen years ago...
Emma was sitting on the couch in Julia’s apartment when her parents came through the door. They looked at her strangely, as if they couldn’t imagine why she was there.
“Mr. and Mrs. Meyer,” she said, standing up and taking a step toward them. “My name is Emma Griffin. I’m a friend of Julia’s.”
Her mother nodded. “I’ve heard her speak of you. It seems the two of you had formed quite the friendship. I’m sorry she’s done this to you.”
Emma looked at her questioningly. “What do you mean? Julia hasn’t done anything to me.”
“I only mean I’m sorry she left like this,” she said.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said. “I’m really worried about
