He leaned against the porch railing. “Luke mentioned there was a murder Friday night at the university.”
“Yes. A Caucasian female, mid-twenties, was found hanging in a classroom on campus.” She removed a photograph from the binder and handed it to him. “I was the first officer on the scene.”
Weston’s gut clenched. Crime scene photos were never easy to look at, but this was particularly haunting. A woman dressed in a long white gown hung from the ceiling, a rope tied around her neck. Tilted over, under her bare feet, was a chair.
“Is she a student?” he asked.
“Don’t know. No one from Harrison University, student or faculty, has been reported missing. As of now, she’s a Jane Doe.”
Avery’s voice was weary, and for the first time, Weston noticed faint shadows under her eyes. Her joke about the caffeine probably wasn’t far off the mark. Had she gotten any sleep since Friday night? If so, it’d been uneasy.
“As you can see from the crime scene photograph, at first blush, it appeared to be a suicide,” Avery continued. “But evidence has ruled that possibility out. The coroner estimates the victim died at least 24 hours before she was found, and that classroom was used until seven p.m. on Friday evening.”
Weston’s gaze shot back to the photograph. His mind whirled. “The scene was staged.”
“There’s more. Around the woman’s wrist was a handmade bracelet.” Avery removed another photograph and passed it to him. The leather band had a charm threaded through it.
Weston frowned. “Is that a chess piece?”
“Yes. A pawn to be exact. And in the pocket of the victim’s dress, there was a note.” Avery flipped to a new page in her binder. Weston motioned for her to leave it in place and shifted so he could read the message. It was written by hand, in pen, using calligraphy-style letters.
The game begins, Avery, with the King’s pawn opening.
It was signed The Chessmaster. Weston read the note once, then again. His blood ran cold. “The killer mentions you by name. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
“No. I spent ten years with the Houston Police Department. First on patrol, then in the gang unit and homicide. None of the cases I’ve ever worked resembles anything like this.” Her mouth tightened. “It’s possible the killer singled me out because I’m the chief of police for the university.”
Or it could be a threat. Weston knew it. Avery did, too, he was sure. Her face was a mask of professionalism, but he didn’t miss the slight tremble of her fingers. There was no need to push the point. At least, not now.
“How many people know about the bracelet and the note?” he asked.
“A select few. We’ve been able to keep the murder quiet on campus for now, but it’s only a matter of time before that changes. I’d like assistance on the case from you. I’ve worked with the Texas Rangers before. You’re trained to handle high-profile cases, plus you get special priority at the state lab. Both of those things I need.”
No doubt she would. Once word got out, there would be panic from students and parents. Not to mention the local townsfolk. But he had a feeling that wasn’t why Avery had asked for his help. He glanced down at the photograph of the victim. “You’re worried the killer may strike again.”
“This crime isn’t the work of an amateur. I looked up the phrasing he used in the note. A King’s pawn opening is the first move in a chess game.” Her jaw tightened. “So yes…I think this could be the start of something.”
Her instincts mirrored his own. “Give me five minutes to change. Then I want to go with you to the university. I need to see the crime scene.”
An hour later, Avery steered a golf cart across the main courtyard of campus. Harrison University, founded in 1870, was a small, public college built around a large quad. Many of the buildings couldn’t be accessed by car. Weston was squeezed into the seat next to her.
Well-maintained flower beds lined the walkway. The fountain in the center of the courtyard sent up a spray of water.
“Nice campus,” he remarked. “I imagine it’s not always this quiet.”
“No, it’s busy during the week. We have roughly 3,000 students enrolled full-time and another 1,000 part-time, but only 600 live on campus.” Avery maneuvered around the fountain and peeked at Weston out of the corner of her eye.
The man was heart-stoppingly handsome. Features so sharp and intensely masculine, they appeared chiseled out of granite. His dark hair was a bit too long at the collar and slightly shaggy on top, as if he hadn’t had a haircut in a while. Weston’s knees were practically touching his chest and his head was tilted to prevent smashing it against the roof. He held his cowboy hat in one massive hand. He couldn’t be comfortable in the cart but didn’t complain.
Although they’d never met, Avery knew a few things about him from her friend, Megan. Weston was widowed. A former football player. An excellent investigator and a good friend. Megan had hinted at setting Avery up with Weston a few times. Her friend was sure they would hit it off, but Avery resisted the idea.
Life was funny. A year and a half ago, Avery had been engaged and Megan had been the one rebuffing romance. Now the roles were entirely reversed. Her friend was happily married with a baby on the way and Avery was the one avoiding relationships.
“What kind of security do you have on campus?” Weston asked, cutting into her thoughts. “Surely, you have cameras.”
“We do, but the security system is old and outdated. Most of the cameras are focused on the parking lots. There are some on the pathways. When I took over as police chief six months ago, one of the first things I did was request money for a new system. The
