“You have my number. Let me know.”
Regan rose from her chair, then said, almost as if she just remembered to ask—when, in fact, she had been thinking about how to ask it for the entire time she’d been sitting in Rachel’s office—“Do you know what Taylor and Candace were actually arguing about at the party?”
“That was fully investigated by the police.”
“Still—”
“You actually believed that anonymous caller? People who don’t want to give their names are probably lying,” Rachel said.
Regan didn’t agree, nor did she comment.
Rachel continued to fill the silence. “Taylor told the police exactly what the argument was about. That homeless man. Taylor and several of the other girls wanted to call the police, and Candace put her foot down. When Taylor heard that Candace had confronted him alone, she was worried, and then the conversation deteriorated into an argument. Taylor is heartbroken that her last conversation with Candace was one of anger. She said hurtful things that she regrets to this day.”
“Maybe,” Regan said carefully, “but someone who was there claims that their argument wasn’t solely about Abernathy.”
“I can’t imagine what. Taylor spoke to the police. She told them everything she knew.”
“I tracked down Taylor, asked her about that night, but she wasn’t very helpful.”
Rachel looked surprised. “You talked to Taylor?”
“I just want to get the facts straight.”
“Taylor has a serious drug problem. I don’t know that she’d remember what happened yesterday, let alone three years ago. Her problem started at the end of her senior year—related to the fact that one of her closest friends had been killed. I was the one who took her to rehab the first time, got her cleaned up. But a second time? I can’t do it. It hurts too much to help, only to have her go back to her old ways.”
“She seemed to be doing okay. Thank you for your time, Rachel. Let me know what Vicky says about talking to me.”
Regan left, thinking about the conversation. Rachel was protective of the sorority, but Regan still didn’t understand why she didn’t want the truth. Yes, the police were generally best at solving capital crimes, but they were stuck. Young had said as much. So having Lucas shake things up was a good thing. Rachel’s concerns seemed minor and almost petty, as if she had a personal problem with Lucas.
Still, maybe Vicky Ryan would talk to her. If not, Regan might just have to seek out other sorority sisters.
Regan had said to Lucas that someone had lied to the police; Young had confirmed the same gut feeling. Who? And why?
Someone in the sorority knew more than they had told the police, and whoever it was may be too scared to come forward. Both the letter to Lucas and the call they got about Candace driving on campus Sunday night had been anonymous. Even Annie’s reticence to call in to the podcast was odd. Was something more going on with the sorority? Too many people were acting odd, almost scared.
Regan slipped on her sunglasses, breathing in the fresh spring air as she crossed campus to the public lot. It was a beautiful afternoon, and the sun revitalized her. Even being on campus wasn’t as weird as she’d thought it might be. There was a warm, familiar nostalgia as she recalled friends and events during her four years here. Playing spontaneous games of beach volleyball in the sandpit in the middle of campus; hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon with her geology class; going to the football games with Jessie and their small group of friends. Regan never had a large friend group, but the friends she had were good ones, men and women she still kept in touch with.
Not so much in the last year, she realized. But grief did that to you. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone after Chase died.
She shook the thoughts of the past from her head and focused on the present. Rachel was protective of Sigma Rho, and she had been around when Candace disappeared. She very well might know more about what had happened than she let on. Perhaps she was protecting one of her sorority sisters. Taylor? Would Rachel protect a killer? What would Taylor’s motive be...and why on earth would a professor protect her?
Maybe Regan was jumping the gun on this, but she couldn’t shake the thought that both Rachel and Taylor knew more than they’d told her or than they’d told the police. Whether that information was directly related to Candace’s murder was anyone’s guess.
But Regan was determined to find out.
Nineteen
It was after five thirty by the time Regan arrived back at her dad’s house. She tried to recall what was in the refrigerator for her to eat. She was famished.
There were packages at the front door, so her dad wasn’t home yet, which surprised her. She walked up the stairs and picked up two small boxes, both addressed to John Merritt. There was also a large manila envelope that had been sent two-day mail. For Regan.
The return address: Dyson, Brooks, & Shapiro, Attorneys-at-Law.
Regan’s lawyer was Beth Shapiro.
All thought of food left her head. She unlocked the front door, dropped the boxes on the counter, and took the envelope to her dad’s office. She sat at his desk and stared.
She knew what this was.
As soon as she signed on the dotted line, her divorce would be final.
She could wait, but why? Regan couldn’t imagine that there were any outstanding issues. Beth would have called her.
Regan opened the package, and it was as she’d expected, though she was somewhat surprised Beth hadn’t called to tell her the papers were on their way. She read the brief letter attached to the documents.
Blah blah blah.
Sign all three copies and keep one for yourself, return the other two in the postage-paid envelope to their office. Colorful arrows pointed to where she was supposed to sign. As if there was anything cheery about divorce.