studying?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Sean answered anyway. “Professor Cole seemed very protective of her. But I already knew they had something going on.”
“Thank you, Sean. Oh, one thing, you heard a third person, thought it was female. Was there another reason you felt the third person was female?”
He shrugged. “The door was closed-almost. Closing, I should say. But it wasn’t Chris.”
It wasn’t definitive. There were three dead, and three known people in the room, and perhaps Scott’s voice had been effeminate. But three college students who were environmental activists slitting the throat of an I.T director to steal security plans? Or torturing Dr. Payne and letting him bleed to death? None of it made any sense to her. But she had to go with the evidence, and the evidence right now had the three confessing to arson and murder.
Three deputies came down the stairs carrying an evidence box. They wore booties, gloves, and face masks.
“Sheriff,” one of them said after removing his mask, “we found four bottles of one-fifty-one proof vodka and green spray paint. We also found Ballard’s computer. And a journal. It doesn’t appear to claim credit for the arsons, but it documents the so-called crimes of the businesses that were attacked, plus others that weren’t attacked. We’re still bagging up evidence, it’ll take the rest of the day.”
Nora said, “Did you dust for prints?”
The deputy glanced at her, but the sheriff answered. “I know how to process a suicide. It’s always treated as a crime scene.”
“Can you send me a copy of the pictures?”
“I’ll get you copies of everything. You may get a chunk of the evidence as well, because I’m sure the U.S. attorney is going to want undeniable proof that the arsonists are dead.”
A deputy walked into the lobby with an evidence bag, and Sanger motioned for the two other deputies to take the other boxes to the crime-scene van. Sanger handed the letter, wrapped in plastic, to Nora.
The short letter was written on college-ruled notebook paper, one side only, in blue ballpoint pen. The paper had never been folded, though half was crinkled. There was some biological matter dried on the letter. It read:
Nora read the letter three times and didn’t quite know what to make of it. They didn’t come right out and say they were responsible for the four arsons and murdering Jonah Payne or Russ Larkin. It was short-common with suicide notes-but suicide notes themselves were rare. Only one in four suicides left a note. Most were impulsive acts.
Many suicides did occur to avoid imprisonment or other punishment, but these kids weren’t yet on Nora’s radar. She’d been to the college several times to talk to Professor Cole, but she hadn’t brought any students in for questioning because no evidence had pointed to any individual student. Why would they kill themselves before there was an active investigation into their actions? Out of guilt? Nora would have to pull out her old psychology books, but suicide for guilt alone was somewhere at the bottom of the list.
“What?” Duke asked. “You’re frowning.”
“I’m thinking,” she said.
“What’s the problem?” Sanger said. “It’s pretty cut-and-dried.”
“They don’t admit to the arsons or murder.”
“They say right there that they didn’t want to kill anyone but it got out of hand.”
“They could be referring to the suicides themselves. That they planned it and didn’t know how not to go through with it. We don’t know, but-”
“The evidence is coming out of the room right now,” Duke said. “The vodka and the paint-”
She nodded. “I know. It seems convenient.”
“You can’t possibly think that they were framed,” Sanger said. “You’re really stretching this.”
Nora wasn’t going to get into an argument with Sanger in front of his deputies with college students coming and going. They’d sealed off the third floor of the dorm, but the other floors were accessible to residents; soon, they’d release the third floor as well.
Something bothered Nora about the letter, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Had they left evidence of their crimes, but the police just hadn’t yet found it? Or had one of them felt guilty? Perhaps it was a murder-suicide. The letter was written in feminine script, difficult but not impossible for a man to forge. Pills and other poisons were commonly chosen by female suicide victims, while men preferred firearms. Ironically, perhaps, the choice of weapons for female killers was poison as well. Could Anya have killed her partners, then herself?
“Did you find any empty pill bottles, a knife? We have two victims, Jonah Payne and Russell Larkin. Neither fit with the M.O. of this group.”
“What M.O.?” Sanger said. “We know the same people were involved with the four arson fires-your sister proved it, right? Same accelerant, same bomb, same type of target. We’ve matched the spray paint. They escalated-they often do. Serial arsonists want bigger, more violent fires.”
“But serial arsonists set fires to watch the fire and achieve sexual satisfaction. Anarchists set fires to make a political statement and damage the offending businesses economically.”
“Why are you so antagonistic?” Sanger asked. “You should be happy that the case is solved.”
“Solved? It’s far from solved.”
“What the hell do you mean? We have three dead college students who have claimed responsibility, or at least have provided good solid evidence of responsibility. It’ll take a few days to match up, but I’ll bet it matches the evidence we found at the crime scenes. They fit the profile that you yourself gave me: early-to-mid-twenties, college-educated, Caucasian, known environmental activists.”
What he said was true, but, “That was before someone was killed. If Dr. Payne had died in an accident, then yes, I could buy this. But he was tortured and murdered, his body moved from his vacation house to his business. His colleague Larkin had his throat slit while he sat in his car behind a deserted building. These are not the acts of traditional anarchists.”
“Maybe they’re just plumb crazy.”
Nora remembered her conversations with Megan Kincaid and then Hans Vigo earlier this morning. That the manner in which Jonah Payne was killed was the work of a psychopath. “Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly.
But she wasn’t done, not by a long shot. She needed to be one hundred percent sure that the three suicides were solely responsible for the murders and the arsons. She wasn’t closing the case anytime soon.
“Sheriff, I’m going to talk to Professor Cole. He knew all three students, he may have some insight or information. Would you like to join me?”
“I was getting ready to talk to him as well. I’ll give you a ride.”
She frowned. “A ride? His office is just on the other side of campus.”
“As he’s been so reluctant to comply with this investigation, I had him taken into custody. He’s at the county jail.”
Duke and Sean followed Nora back outside to the car. “You did good, Sean,” Duke said.
Sean seemed surprised by the praise, and Nora wondered if Duke was that rare with compliments.
“Thanks,” the young man answered.
Nora grabbed her briefcase from the backseat of Duke’s car. “I just emailed Pete and asked him to stick with the evidence, I want everything to come through my office, but I didn’t want to say that to Sheriff Sanger. I’m hoping Pete can convince him that we have more resources to quickly process it.” She pulled out a notepad and copied the names and stats of the three suicide victims, then handed it to Duke. “Would you mind running backgrounds on these three? I sent the information to my office, but it’s getting late and I don’t think I’ll get
