graduated.
Faith slowed the car along Techwood Drive for the students who didn't seem to understand the purpose of a crosswalk. A group of young men whooped at the sight of a blonde in a Mini, the combination of hormones and the natural lack of social graces inherent in math and science majors causing several of them to stumble over their own feet. Faith ignored them, scanning the streets for a place to park. Campus parking was a nightmare even at the best of times. Finally, she gave up and pulled the Mini into a handicapped parking space. She flipped down the visor to show her police parking permit, hoping local security chose to honor it.
Will said, 'Go ahead and call your contact.'
Faith talked to the dean's secretary as Will extricated himself from the car. She ended the call, got out and locked the doors. 'Dean Martinez is still talking to legal. We're supposed to wait here. He'll join us as soon as he's off the phone.' Faith pointed to a large, four-story brick building. 'That's Glenn Hall. Towers is right behind it.'
Will nodded for her to lead the way, but Faith's gait was considerably shorter than his and they ended up walking side by side. She had never thought of herself as short, but at five-eight, she felt dwarfed by him.
Classes were still in session, small clusters of students milling around. Though Will was still wearing his vest, his paddle holster and gun were in full view without his jacket. Faith was wearing a short-sleeved cotton shirt and dress pants-sensible considering the hundred-plus temperature, but hardly the best way to conceal the gold shield on her left hip and the gun on her right. The two of them caused quite a stir as they walked toward the quad between Glenn and Towers Hall.
Still, walking through the campus, seeing all those young faces, Faith realized how badly she wanted to work this case. Setting aside that being partnered with Leo Donnelly was not exactly hitching her wagon to a star, Faith could not fathom what it felt like to lose a child. Talking to Abigail Campano had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done in her life. All the mother could remember were the fights they'd had, the horrible things they'd said to each other. The fact that the woman's daughter was missing rather than dead didn't take away any of the horror. Faith wanted to do everything she could to help get Emma back home. Inexplicably, she also felt the need to let Will Trent know that despite today's screwups, she wasn't completely useless.
She started by telling him what little she knew about this part of the Tech campus. 'These are both freshman dorms, not coed, about six hundred students between them. They're the closest to the stadium and the loudest. Parking for freshmen is heavily restricted so not many of them have cars, at least not on campus.' Her feet sunk into the soft grass, and she looked down to check her footing, saying, 'Most classes will be over in half an hour-'
'What are you doing here?'
She recognized the shoes first. They were the same brand and color she'd seen on Adam Humphrey's feet just a few hours ago. Two thin legs stuck out of the top of the sneakers like hairy sticks. His shorts hung around his narrow hips, the top of his boxers showing. He was wearing a torn, faded T-shirt-his Air Force-captain uncle's least favorite-that read 'No Blood for Oil.'
In retrospect, it seemed likely that she might run into Jeremy, who had been living at Glenn Hall for the last week and a half. Though she knew for a fact that her son was supposed to be in class right now. She had helped him sign up his schedule weeks ago.
She told him as much. 'What happened to intro to bio-mechanics?'
'The professor let us out early,' he shot back. 'Why are you here?'
Faith glanced at Will Trent, who stood impassively beside her. She supposed one of the few benefits of his investigation into her mother was his lack of shock over a thirty-three-year-old woman having an eighteen-year-old son.
Will said, 'One of your classmates has been in an accident.'
Jeremy had been raised by two generations of cops. He knew the language. 'You mean he's dead?'
Faith didn't lie to her son. 'Yes. I need you to keep this between us for a while. His name was Adam Humphrey. Do you know him?'
Jeremy shook his head. 'Is he a Goatman?' For reasons unknown, residents of Glenn Hall referred to themselves by this title.
'No,' she told him. 'He's at Towers.'
'Classes just started. Fartley's the only guy I know.' Another nickname, this one for his dormmate. 'I can ask around.'
'Don't worry about it,' she said, fighting the urge to reach up and tuck his hair behind his ear. Since his thirteenth birthday, he had been taller than her. On the few occasions when Jeremy allowed public displays of affection, she had to stand on her toes to kiss his forehead. 'I'll come by later.'
He shrugged. 'Don't, okay? The MILF shit's getting pretty bad.'
'Don't say ‘shit.' '
'Mom.'
She nodded, a tacit understanding. Jeremy ambled away, his brand-new sixty-dollar book bag dragging in the grass. When Faith was sixteen and lugging her one-year-old son around on her hip, she had blushed furiously when people had referred to him as her little brother. At the age of twenty-five, she would bristle angrily when men assumed that her son's age had a direct correlation to her level of wantonness. By thirty, she had become comfortable enough with her past to own up to it. Everyone made mistakes, and the truth was that she loved her son. Life had certainly not been easy, but having him with her made all the gawking and disapproval worthwhile.
Unfortunately, this peace had been quickly shattered when, during freshman orientation last month, Jeremy's new dormmate had taken one look at Faith and said, 'Dude, your girlfriend is hot.'
Will pointed to the red brick building opposite Glenn Hall. 'This is Towers?'
'Yes,' she said, leading him across the empty quad. 'When I spoke with Martinez, the dean of student relations, he told me that Adam's dormmate is named Harold Nestor, but Nestor hasn't shown up for classes yet. Martinez said there was some sort of family situation-a sick parent, he thought. It's doubtful whether or not the kid will still attend.'
'Does Nestor have a key to the room?'
'No. The kid hasn't even picked up his housing packet yet. As far as Martinez knows, Nestor has never even met Adam.'
'Let's confirm that,' Will said. 'Does anyone else have a key to the room?'
'Campus security has a passkey, I would imagine. They don't really have house masters here-student government runs everything and they haven't had elections yet.'
Will tried the front door to the building, but it wouldn't open.
Faith pointed to the large red sign warning students not to let strangers into the dorm. She had forgotten about this part. 'You need a security card to get in.'
'Right.' He pressed his face to the glass, checking the lobby. 'Empty.'
'Adam didn't have a security card in his wallet.' She glanced back at the quad, hoping for a wandering student who could help out, but the field was empty. 'I guess we'll have to wait for Martinez and the lawyers after all.'
Will had his hands in his pockets as he stared at the many signs on the door. In addition to the red one, there was a blue plaque that had instructions for the handicapped to press the plate on the wall to engage the automatic door as well as a laminated piece of green notebook paper advising students of numbers to call in cases of nonemergencies.
Will stared straight ahead, brow furrowed in concentration, as if he could open the door with his mind.
Faith had given up trying to figure him out since the urine incident. She walked over to the building intercom system, which contained a directory of all the student names. Someone had taped a handwritten note over the buzzers that read, 'BROKEN!! DO NOT TOUCH!!' Out of curiosity, she scanned the names. Humphrey, A. was beside the number 310.
Will stood beside her. She thought he was reading the names until he asked, 'What's a MILF?'
She felt herself blush. 'That was a private conversation.'
'Sorry.'
He reached for the directory and she pointed out, 'It's broken.'
He gave her an awkward half-smile. 'I can see that.' He pressed the blue handicap plate below the directory.
