“Oh,” Eleanor said. “I’m sorry. I just thought…”
“It’s fine,” Emma said. “It’s actually a relief to not be the only one who sees that Julia could have had something happen to her.”
“What is it you think I could help you with?” Eleanor asked.
“I just wanted any insight you might have into her. I know she was in your class. Did you notice anything strange? People who might have followed her? Conflicts she might have had? Any changes of behavior?” Emma asked.
Eleanor bristled, but she tried not to show it. She’d carried this for so long already. She didn’t want to lose it now.
“I don’t really think there’s anything I can tell you to help you. There’s no real secret that Julia and I didn’t always see eye to eye. She was a very headstrong student, and our personalities didn’t mesh all the time. But I didn’t witness any trouble with anyone else. I really need to be going,” she said.
As she walked out of the seminar room, Emma fell into step beside her.
“You said the two of you didn’t see eye to eye. What do you mean by that?” Emma asked.
“Just that we were two different people. That’s not so unusual. People would like to think that all professors immediately bond with their students and build meaningful relationships, but that isn’t always the case. Unfortunately, there are tensions just like there are in any other facet of life. Personalities aren’t always compatible, and that doesn’t change just because of a student-teacher relationship. I don’t hold any ill will toward her. It is, of course, a tragedy.”
As they turned a corner down a hallway, Eleanor saw a door ahead of them open.
“Professor Harris,” Emma said as he walked out of the small office and came toward them.
“Oh, hello, Emma,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were still on campus.”
“Emma is looking into the disappearance of that student from several years ago. Julia Meyer,” Eleanor said.
“Yes,” he nodded. “She spoke to me earlier. I wish there was more I could do to help. But I told her I think Julia probably just decided she was done with the life she had already made for herself and left. There were other things for her to pursue and so she did.”
“Professor Murillo thinks she’s dead,” Emma chimed in.
Eleanor’s heart sank, and she met the dark eyes staring back at her.
“Well, that’s a morbid thought,” Professor Harris said. “I didn’t realize you thought that way.”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about that girl since she disappeared. It’s not something I ever expected to be asked to think about again,” Eleanor said. “Come on, we should go.”
He stepped up beside her and Emma glanced at their body language for a few seconds. Eleanor remembered that she was in the FBI now. That look was a lot more than it would have been coming from anyone else.
“Are the two of you...” Emma started the question, then gestured between them, like she didn’t know exactly what words to use to describe what she thought their relationship might be.
They looked at each other and Eleanor nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “We are. But as you can imagine, we like to keep it quiet and to ourselves. The university can be a very judgmental place, and we don’t want to get on the wrong side of HR. So, we would appreciate your discretion.”
“Absolutely,” Emma nodded. “Speaking of which, though, and I know this is a fairly uncomfortable question for me to ask, but I heard there were some rumors about you around the time Julia disappeared. There were some whispers you had a relationship with your teaching assistant.”
Eleanor gave a tight-lipped smile. “You’re right. That is an uncomfortable question. But I can assure you, it’s unfounded. Those rumors have no basis.”
Emma glanced back and forth between them, then gave a nod.
“Well, I’ll leave the two of you. Thank you for talking with me. If you think of anything, please let me know.”
“We will.”
Emma walked away and Eleanor watched her go. She hoped she wouldn’t have to see Emma again.
Chapter Forty-Seven
It always seems to come as a surprise when people don’t move far away from their universities and colleges. They venture away from home and go to those schools of higher education so they can experience independence and build the skills and knowledge to have careers. The assumption is they want to embark on new lives and build futures for themselves.
But inevitably, a good portion of them end up remaining right around the campuses where they went to school, rather than leaving and trying something new. That doesn’t mean they’re staying in student housing or that they haven’t fully stepped away from their colleges. They hunker down and find what opportunities wait for them close to those places.
I suppose I’m a bit of a hypocrite saying that. I didn’t leave where I was living during college, either. Dad had picked the absolute perfect little house. It was close enough to campus for me to get there conveniently, but not so close that it felt as if I was sitting right in the middle of all the chaos and lack of control.
Lynn Bartholomew, on the other hand, lives so close to campus she can probably do a Jell-O shot through her window while doing her laundry. I walk up to her apartment door and am just lifting my hand to knock when the door opens, and she nearly tumbles into me.
“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t realize anybody was out here. Hi.”
“Hi, Lynn?” I question.
She gives me a questioning look. There’s something in her eyes that makes me think she recognizes me, but she’s not sure.
“Yes,” she says.
“It’s Emma Griffin,” I explain. “From college?”
“Oh,” she says. “Yeah. Hey, Emma. Funny to run into you here.”
She takes
