Shadow of Vengeance (11 page)

“Too bad we can’t have a tox screen run on Big Bill.”

“If he’s cool with it, and I’m sure he will be considering he
loves
his job, we can still have him screened. Rohypnol can be found in a urine analysis within sixty hours of being ingested. Bill said he started feeling sick around six Saturday night…” She shoved her coat sleeve aside and checked her watch. “It’s a quarter to five now, so we’re well within that sixty hour window. Bill can’t wait until his shift ends, though. To be on the safe side, he’s got to get over to the Dixon Medical Center immediately.”

The elevator slowed, then stopped. Even with the doors still closed, Rachel heard the distinct sound of feminine laughter.
 

“Are the floors coed?” Owen asked.

“Unfortunately,” Rachel said as the doors slid open, revealing the source of the laughter.
 

Four girls stood in the hall. Quiet now, they stared at Owen. Then, while each girl stepped past them and into the elevator, they looked between one another and burst into another fit of giggles. As the door slid shut again, one girl said, “Oh my God, was he hot.”

“How special, you already have a fan club,” Rachel said, and began walking toward Sean and Josh’s room.

He hardened his jaw. “I don’t want anything to do with that.”

“Please,” she said, stopped in front of Sean’s door and reached in her pocket for the key Bill had given her. “What guy wouldn’t be interested in a bunch of cute college girls?”

He crowded the closed doorway. His nearness, his masculine scent made her hands sweaty. “They might be cute,” he said, “but I have no interest in dating a college girl. I prefer a strong, intelligent woman who knows what she wants.”
 

She almost dropped the key, but managed to slide it into the lock and open the door. She hadn’t expected him to use strong and intelligent as a way to describe the women he preferred to date. Based on the women she’d seen him with, beautiful and easy seemed more on target. “Thank you for that interesting insight into the depths of your dating preferences.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he said, and stepped into the room.
 

As she glanced around, Owen handed her a pair of Latex gloves. Damn, she hadn’t thought about gloves, but would be sure to remember them in the future. Because Ian had sent Owen with her, she suspected their boss would want a full account as to how she’d handled herself in the field. If she wanted to escape life behind the desk, she’d have to be more on top of things.

After slipping on the gloves, they began searching the small room. As far as Rachel could tell, nothing was out of the ordinary. Actually, everything was neat and tidy. A little too neat.
 

“Sean’s bedroom at home never looks like this. He always has clothes lying around and junk on his dresser.” That was putting it mildly. Since he was a little kid, her brother liked to hoard and rat hole stuff. Either sharing a room with Josh had forced him to change his ways, or someone had cleaned up the place.

Owen opened the mini refrigerator she’d bought Sean before he’d started his first semester. “Empty.” He closed the door, then looked through the trashcan next to the fridge. “Jake said he didn’t remove anything from the room, correct?”

“That’s right,” she said, and closed the closet door. “Why?”

“There’s not one piece of garbage in this room except for an empty pizza box.”

“We knew about the soda bottles, but no garbage at all? That doesn’t make any sense,” She moved toward Owen. “Sean has a thing about napkins and baby wipes.” When he glanced at her, she waved a hand. “I’d rather he be a little OCD than walking around with food on his face.”

Owen stood and began peeling off his gloves. “Maybe they took the garbage out before they left for the study session.”

“What about the pizza box? And why isn’t there anything in the fridge?”

“Did Sean ever go into town and do any grocery shopping?”

“No, he doesn’t have a car, and neither does Josh. They both eat at the school cafeteria. Wexman does have a small convenience store on campus. I give Sean a monthly allowance so he can buy sodas and snacks, or whatever toiletries he might need. He loves his junk food and uses every cent I give him.”

“Which means we should have found something in this room.” Owen shoved the gloves in his pocket. “We need to ask Sean if they emptied the trash and got rid of the empty Mountain Dew bottle.”

“And what their room looked like when they left.”

“Could be they cleaned up because they were planning on bringing a couple of those cute girls back to their place.”

She winced. “I can’t picture my brother bringing a girl to his room.”

“Just because you can’t picture it, or don’t want to, doesn’t mean it’s not a possibility.”

Needing to erase the mental image of Sean fooling around with a girl, Rachel focused on what they did know. “Okay, here’s what we have so far. The building’s lock was broken. Sean and Josh ordered pizza and Mountain Dew.”

“Thanks to Bill, we know for a fact it was delivered.”

“Then taken to their room by the RA.”

“Right, we’ll need to talk to Abby Zucker.”

“Definitely. We suspect the boys, and maybe Bill, were drugged.” She shook her head. “Sean and Josh disappeared after they left the building. Does drugging Bill make any sense to you? Maybe he did just have the flu.”

“Too coincidental. My money’s on Rohypnol. Could be whoever took the boys wanted to make sure Bill was out of it so they could go back to the dorm room and clean up any evidence they might have left behind.”

She nodded. “That makes sense, but it doesn’t work for me. The only people in and out of this building on a Saturday night would be other students. And that’s what doesn’t work. Wexman Hell Week has been going on for twenty years. This hall is filled with nothing but freshmen and sophomores. Some of them wouldn’t have been born when the first Hell Week student went missing.”

“What about a maintenance worker? The broken lock is also a little too coincidental.”

“But it sounded as if more than half the campus buildings had, and still have, malfunctioning locks. Why would the kidnapper take the risk of disabling all of the locks, then grab the boys when they were walking to the library?” She moved to the door. “All of these possibilities won’t matter until we get the tox screen results on Sean and Bill.”

“Would a professor have access to the residence halls?” Owen asked after they left the room and she locked the door. “Specifically, a professor who pursues legends like Bigfoot and Wexman Hell Week?”

“Dr. Collin Stronach is next on our list.” She pressed the elevator key. “Let’s find out just how far he might go to keep the legend of Wexman Hell Week alive.”
 

Chapter 5

Talking Bill into going to Dixon Medical Center for a physical hadn’t been an issue. Owen had been impressed with how Rachel had handled the security guard, giving him just enough info to prompt him to cooperate without telling him their suspicions. If Rohypnol had been used to drug the boys and Bill, with the little evidence they had, he didn’t want to see that information leaked.
 

While Bill took care of finding someone to cover his post, Owen drove Rachel across campus to meet with Dr. Collin Stronach. The professor’s office was located in Milton Hall, one of the many beautifully detailed Gothic buildings he’d seen during their initial drive through the campus. As he followed Rachel inside, Milton Hall immediately impressed him. With its grand foyer, numerous murals, and the imposing staircase framed with brass and mahogany rails, the building’s interior rivaled its exterior.
 

After they checked in with the building’s security guard, they headed up the staircase. “This building it beautiful,” Rachel whispered. “Now I know why the tuition costs a fortune.”

“It’s nice.” He glanced at her and smiled at the way she gaped at the tapestries and furnishings with childlike wonder. Considering he’d worked for the U.S. Ambassador to the Vatican, and their embassy was in the heart of Rome, he’d seen plenty of architectural and artistic wonders. Sure, Milton Hall impressed him, but it wasn’t exactly the Sistine Chapel.
 

“Nice? I’ve never been in anything like it.”

“Why are you whispering?”

She furrowed her brows. “Old habit,” she said, now in a normal tone.

“Those Catholic nuns do like their discipline, don’t they?” He didn’t know if Rachel was Catholic or why he cared whether or not she answered him. But he did. Rachel made him curious. Again, he didn’t know why. Outside of imagining what her great ass would feel like in his hands and beyond imagining her kissable lips against his mouth, he’d been trying to decipher this strange and complex woman from the moment he’d met her. Confident, yet insecure, brilliant, yet naïve, abrasive, yet considerate…he simply couldn’t figure out what or who was the real Rachel Davis. He could care less about her religious preference or background, but if it led him closer to understanding this puzzling woman, then maybe he could stop thinking about her in ways he
really
shouldn’t be thinking.
 

“I did eight years at St. Ambrose, then another four at Holy Name.”

He chuckled. “You make it sound like you did time.”

“You have no idea,” she said, lowering her tone again and slowing her pace. She came to a halt in front of a door with Dr. Collin Stronach etched onto the clouded glass, then turned to him.
 

Her big green eyes held a hint of vulnerability as she drew in a shaky breath. He almost asked her if she wanted him to handle the interview, but remained silent. She was lead on this investigation. While he preferred her cosseted in the office, away from potential violence or the deadly results of some cases, several times he’d overheard Rachel ask Ian for a chance to work an investigation, and knew being in the field was important to her.

“Let’s play nice with the professor,” she finally said.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

When she leaned toward him, he caught a hint of pink grapefruit, apples and…strangely, marshmallows. The combination made him want to linger outside the door, pull her close and find out if she tasted…

“Bigfoot,” she whispered.

The single word knocked the image of kissing a trail along Rachel’s slender neck from his mind. “Right.” He nodded. “I won’t make fun of him.”

She gave the lapel of his coat a slight tug. “I would hope not. I was thinking more along the lines of the festival. If he’s running the Sasquatch show, we might need his cooperation.”

“If we need his cooperation, we have the sheriff.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to have the nutty professor on our side and avoid any possible issues that could hinder our investigation?” she asked, her tone coaxing, alluring.

“Of course,” he said. He stared between her imploring eyes, her tempting lips, and her small hand tugging at his coat, wondering if maybe he’d been misreading Rachel all along. Maybe behind the sarcasm and insults, she harbored something—

She quickly turned and rapped the door with her knuckle. Whatever spell she’d held over him broke.
 

As they waited for Stronach to answer, Owen realized he had to be as delusional as the Bigfoot-loving professor. There was nothing between Rachel and him except whatever he’d been concocting in his own mind. Still, he did enjoy the quick moment. For some reason, standing close to her, close enough he could have easily hauled her in for a kiss that would leave them both…

Like déjà vu, a brief, fuzzy image swam through his head. Rachel looking up at him, her eyes on his mouth as he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.
 

The door opened, snapping him back to reality.

“Ms. Davis, Mr. Malcolm, please come in,” a man in his early forties said, and motioned them toward a leather couch.

“Thanks for taking time to meet with us, Dr. Stronach.” Rachel took a seat. “Please call me Rachel.”

“Rachel,” the professor repeated. “Beautiful in form and countenance.”

Owen remained standing and folded his arms across his chest. He shifted his gaze to Rachel, whose freckles were now indiscernible thanks to the pretty blush along her cheeks. She’d asked him to “play nice” with the professor, but if Dr. Dickhead continued down this path, things were going to become messy. Rachel was a professional, and deserved to be treated as such.

“I’m sorry,” Stronach said with a nonchalant smile, and took the chair opposite the couch. “It’s a thing I do.”

“Hitting on women, you mean,” Owen said, deciding, after the professor’s blasé excuse, he really couldn’t play nice after all.
 

“Owen, please,” Rachel said.

“No, it’s okay,” the professor said. “Let me clarify. When I hear a name, I like to come up with the meaning. Rachel means beautiful in form and countenance, and aptly suits you.”

“I thought it meant ‘ewe.’ At least that’s what Sister Margaret had told me in second grade.” With a lift of her shoulder, Rachel smiled. “Do Owen now.”

Stronach adjusted his glasses, not the typical, thick, horn-rimmed glasses he’d expect from a nerdy professor, but stylish frames carrying the Prada logo. Actually, there was nothing typical about the professor. He didn’t know why, but Owen had lumped Stronach with all the professors he’d experienced during his college years. Middle aged, paunch, nerdy. A bad stereotype to have as an investigator, but one, for whatever reason, he couldn’t shake. Stronach was younger than he’d figured though, fit, athletic, and based on his Armani shirt—one Owen almost splurged on a few months ago—and his Italian shoes, he had expensive taste.