“We grew up in a typical house with typical divorced parents,” Chrissy said. “It bothered Candy more than me, maybe because she was older, I don’t know. We were both close to our grandma, and we spent a lot of time at her house, especially when our parents started dating other people. That was...well, weird, to be honest. Candy came to every one of my swim meets, and after she went to college she often came back for the weekend if I had a big competition. She would drive me all over before I got my license, even though she was popular and always had dates or things to do. She played soccer, and she was a cheerleader, and she got invited to every party, but if I needed to be picked up after a late practice, she was there for me. I miss her.”
Lucas said, “Candace had been a straight-A student in high school and received an academic scholarship to NAU, where she studied to be a nurse. Chrissy said she was excited about her new career. Because of her volunteer work at Sunrise Center, a homeless shelter and food kitchen in downtown Flagstaff, Candace wanted to work in a clinic in an underprivileged area, focusing on people who’d slipped through the cracks.”
Chrissy said, “Candy was about helping people. That’s all she wanted to do.”
Lucas discussed how Candace joined the Sigma Rho sorority because of the large percentage of women there majoring in STEM. She quickly moved up the sisterhood ranks, becoming a general-council member her second year, the secretary her third year, and vice president her fourth year. She also served as liaison to the Greek Council, tutored at the writing center, maintained a 3.7 GPA over her first seven semesters, and volunteered every Tuesday at Sunrise Center.
“I reached out to the director, Willa March, who knew Candace during that time.”
“Candace was our most reliable and dedicated volunteer,” Willa—by her voice, older—said. “We are a low-overhead organization that relies on volunteers and donations for much of what we do. She served food, talked to our guests as people, not problems. She assisted our volunteer doctor in our weekly clinic. Her murder hit us all hard. The world is poorer without Candace in it.”
Lucas said, “Candace Swain had everything going for her. Education, a commitment to public service, family, friends. She was on the verge of graduation when she disappeared shortly after midnight as the Sigma Rho Spring Fling was winding down.
“No one realized Candace was missing, until her roommate, Annie, called campus police late Monday afternoon.”
Regan half expected audio of Annie at that point, but instead, Lucas continued.
“According to the police report, the last person who spoke to Candace was her fellow sorority sister Taylor James. Several people reported that Candace and Taylor had been arguing, but according to Taylor, they were having ‘a stupid disagreement’ and it wasn’t an ‘actual argument.’ She said to police, and I quote, ‘Candace got angry and stormed off. She did that sometimes when she was losing an argument, but she never held grudges. Neither do I. I expected to see her later.’
“Taylor and a small group of people she was with were the last to see Candace alive as the Spring Fling was breaking up. Just over a week later, on the morning of Sunday, April 19, Candace’s body was found in Hope Springs Lake, a man-made lake in the middle of Hope Centennial Golf Course.”
John said, “Over a week? That’s a long time.”
Regan concurred. “It’s the primary reason I agreed to listen to the podcast and consider going on his program. According to Lucas, she was dead less than twenty-four hours. That should be easy information to verify.”
“Hmm.”
Her dad was thinking. He was one of the smartest cops she knew.
Chrissy’s voice came back. “My mom called me Tuesday. She said not to worry, it was likely a misunderstanding, but Candace left campus Friday night and hadn’t returned. She asked if Candy had called me. She hadn’t.”
Lucas said, “When Annie returned to campus late Sunday night, she didn’t think twice about Candace not being in the room because she often stayed out late or over with a boyfriend. It wasn’t until Monday afternoon when Annie came back from class and tried to call her roommate that she found her phone in their dorm room, on the charger, with dozens of missed calls. That is when she called NAUPD, the campus police.”
Regan thought that Lucas did a decent job recounting the initial missing-person investigation, from Annie’s growing concern to contacting campus police to the delayed call to Flagstaff PD when campus police determined she hadn’t returned home—something that often happened in the college experience.
“According to campus records, Candace’s student card key—the card that is used to enter the dorms or use the meal plan—was used to enter the Mountain View dorm at 12:20 a.m. Saturday morning, consistent with witness statements that Candace left the party after midnight. Her card key was used once more—Sunday night at 11:10 p.m. According to the police, no one saw her enter the building or leave after. A thorough search of the building yielded no additional information or signs of foul play. There are no security cameras inside dorms or on the side entrance where she entered—the entrance closest to the parking garage. The police have never suggested why she might have returned or when she left again. Her card key has never been found.
“Once Flagstaff PD were notified on Wednesday morning,” Lucas continued, “they focused their investigation on friends, family, and boyfriends of Candace Swain. Witnesses indicated that Candace had been seeing two different men, one a student and one who worked downtown as a bartender. Both were publicly cleared by the police in her disappearance.”
Good to know, Regan thought, but she would want to read the reports.
You haven’t even decided whether to get involved.
Except maybe she always knew she would.
Lucas explored every public theory of Candace’s disappearance, from being overwhelmed with her finals to a possible accident to foul play.