“Do you think he killed her?”
“Before meeting Lucas earlier this year, I would have said yes, I think it was possible but unlikely. Not because he had a problem with her, but when he was drinking he sometimes lashed out. Hit someone, pushed them. Could he have pushed Candace and accidentally killed her? Yes, I could see that. But now that I know exactly how she died, I don’t think Joseph had the mental capacity to move her body, cover up evidence, disappear. Not with what I knew of him.”
“What about someone else?” Regan said. “Someone here who might have become fixated with her. Someone she tried to help, or maybe someone who she couldn’t help.”
“The police asked me similar questions three years ago. I can’t think of anyone. People with mental illness and serious drug addiction can become unpredictable, but to the point of murder? No one then had any issues with Candace, not anger or a fixation or anything that would put her in danger.”
Lucas said, “Did you follow up on Doe’s sighting of Joseph near the tracks?”
“Yes, but this was before I knew Candace was dead. I went down there with one of my employees on Thursday or Friday, I don’t remember exactly. It was after she was missing. He wasn’t there. No one had seen him that day.”
“Candace was a regular here,” Lucas said, “but I learned that she sometimes brought others to volunteer.”
“Yes, especially during the holidays. She had many girls in the sorority helping with food drives.”
“Did a student named Alexa Castillo work with her?”
“Alexa? Yes! I haven’t seen her in years. She came with Candace several times. Kind, very quiet.”
“So would you say she was a regular?”
“Semiregular. She probably volunteered ten, twelve times? I keep track of my volunteers, but it was quite some time ago, so I would have to look up the records.”
“That’s okay. That’s all we need now.”
They thanked Willa for her time, and Regan walked Lucas to his truck, which was parked down the street from hers.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“I think it would be difficult for that woman to cover up a murder to protect the killer. She doesn’t seem to have motive to lie. Now, you asked about Alexa. Why?”
“I might have found something,” Lucas said. “Candace was in Kingman. Alexa Castillo is from Kingman. She graduated the year before Candace. I tried to find her, but she doesn’t appear to have any social-media profiles, and the name is too common to do a broader internet search. A basic search came up with more than a dozen in Arizona alone. There’s nothing about her in any of the alumnae news, but she majored in elementary education.”
“That confirms what Richie Traverton told me.” Regan gave Lucas the basic rundown on her conversation with Richie, including that he’d seen Candace with a prepaid flip phone the week before she disappeared. “Richie said she was close to a sorority sister in Kingman. It’s not a large city.”
“Only three Sigma Rho members are from Kingman who overlapped with Candace.”
“You have been busy,” Regan said. “What do you want to do about it?”
“Like you said, lay everything out for my listeners. Tomorrow’s podcast is going to be explosive.”
“I’ll see what I can do to track down Alexa Castillo.”
“I’ll send you everything I have on her,” he said. “But I found something else.” He reached into his back pocket and handed her an envelope. The same type of red letters spelled LUCAS on the front as the note from yesterday. It wasn’t sealed, the folded paper simply tucked in.
She unfolded it.
END IT NOW.
Like the first note, there was no explicit threat. But the message was clear: I know who you are, I know where you live, I know the car you drive. I can find you if you don’t do what I want you to do.
It was an intimidation tactic, pure and simple.
Twenty-Eight
“We need to talk to Detective Young,” Regan said. “He should be aware that your podcast is riling up someone on campus or nearby. Someone who may personally know you. It’s for your protection.”
“No one I know would do this,” he said.
“Someone followed us. They know where you live, they know the car you drive. They could have been following you for a while, or may have access to college records.”
“I don’t have a parking pass.”
She pointed to a sticker on his rear window.
“That’s just so I can park in the student lots cheaper, as a commuter student.”
“The university keeps records. Trust me, for someone who has accessed the university system, it’s not difficult to find info—especially for a staff member or student who works in one of the administrative offices.”
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Young’s number. It took him a few rings to answer.
“Young.”
“It’s Regan Merritt.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Possibly. Can I meet you at the station?”
“I’m off duty. It’s dinnertime. What’s this about?”
“Lucas Vega has received two vague warnings connected to his podcast, which the note writer wants him to stop. They are not overtly threatening, but I think you should be made aware of the situation.”
“Duly noted. Drop the notes at the station to my attention, and I’ll see if there’s anything similar in the system, do an analysis of the notes. I don’t know how fast I can get it done—are they direct threats to harm him?”
“No threat of violence, but it’s implied.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks, Steven,” she said and ended the call. She needed to keep on his good side because she had a feeling they might need him sooner rather than later.
Regan added the note to the same large plastic envelope as the first, which was still in her truck. “I’m going to follow you to your apartment, Lucas,” she said. “Make sure everything is kosher inside, then go home. Tomorrow what time do you need to be on campus?”
“I don’t have any classes on Fridays. I’m going to the studio about an hour before the show. We air at seven on Friday.”