“I’ll pick you up at your apartment at five thirty. Can you stay inside for the day?”
“Why? I mean, these notes don’t mean anything. They just want to scare me.”
“We don’t know what they will or will not do, but you need to be cautious. Promise?”
After Regan made sure that Lucas’s apartment was secure, she dropped the notes off at the police station in a large envelope labeled with Young’s name, then left town for her dad’s house. It was nearly eight. He was listening to sports news on the television while reading a book on World War II.
“I ordered out for pizza,” he said. “Enough for both of us. Should be here in twenty, thirty minutes.”
“Late for dinner.”
“I suspect you didn’t eat.” He put his book down and smiled.
“All in a day’s work. Do you mind if I use your office for a bit?”
“You don’t have to ask.”
She felt she did. This had been her home growing up, and she still thought of it as her home, but it was mostly her dad’s place now. He had done so many things to make it his space.
She was going to have to think about finding her own place. She just didn’t know where and wasn’t even sure what she wanted: staying here, heading down to Phoenix closer to her brother JT and sister, Bri, or someplace completely different. If she didn’t know what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, and if she didn’t have a plan, how could she put down roots?
She pushed all that aside and sat at her dad’s desk. She had a laptop, but she preferred her dad’s larger screen and faster computer. Plus he had a dedicated phone line for the internet, since the Wi-Fi connection wasn’t strong.
She pulled up her email. Lucas had in fact sent her not only everything he’d found on Alexa Castillo—which wasn’t much—he also had information about Kimberly Foster, Vicky Ryan, and others.
He was right in that Alexa Castillo didn’t have any social-media profiles, but if she was a teacher, Regan knew how to dig around and find her. It took a while—her dad brought her two slices of pizza and a beer—but through a series of education links and news articles, she learned that Alexa taught second grade at one of the three elementary schools in Flagstaff. Prior, she’d done a year of student teaching in her hometown of Kingman. Which meant she would have been in Kingman when Candace was seen there three years ago.
Is that who Candace had met with?
Likely, Regan thought. Very likely.
She couldn’t find a phone number for Alexa, but she had the school name, and tomorrow was Friday. Regan would track her down at work. If Alexa could confirm their suspicions, she might also know exactly what had been going on with Candace that week.
Regan had created her own timeline of events based on what Lucas had started. She wondered why someone would leave a second note less than twenty-four hours after the first one. To make sure he got the message? To underscore the threat?
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen: Rachel Wagner.
“Merritt.”
“Hi, Regan, it’s Rachel Wagner. I sent you a message earlier. I wanted to make sure you got it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t respond. What time is good for you and Vicky?”
“Anytime tomorrow. I only have a class in the late morning, and I have office hours after lunch. So either before my class starts at eleven or after two.”
Regan wanted to talk to Alexa right when school got out, so she said, “Morning would be better.”
“Ten? Is that good? My office. I’ll ask Vicky to meet us there.”
“Ten. Thanks.”
She ended the call, put her work aside, and went out to the kitchen to finish her pizza with her dad. They ate in silence for a few minutes. They’d eaten a lot of pizza in their lives, but Regan never grew tired of it.
“Lucas got another note today, almost identical to the first,” she said as she grabbed her third slice. Her dad was like her: they both loved their pizza loaded. All the meat, all the veggies, the more toppings the better. Made it messy, but there was nothing better.
“Did you talk to Young?”
“Yes. I dropped off the threatening notes at the station on my way home.”
“If the notes are from the killer, it means he is within listening distance of the station.”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “He could be streaming or listening to the podcasts after the fact.”
“Except that someone personally delivered the notes.”
True, she thought.
“I wonder if he’s tipping his hand,” her dad continued. “Since he’s remained at large all this time, silence would be the smarter move.”
“Criminals are not always smart. And the notes may not be from the killer.”
“Then, why would they want to shut Lucas up? Whoever is trying to intimidate him doesn’t want the truth to come out.”
“That, or someone in the sorority doesn’t like the podcast because she thinks it makes them look bad, or someone’s messing with him.”
“Do you believe that? It’s a joke?”
“No. I think—well, I don’t know, to be honest. I was leaning toward someone at Sigma Rho. The current sorority as a whole doesn’t want the podcast aired. They closed ranks and won’t talk to him. I had that confirmed by an alumna who got a message from the sorority suggesting that no one speak to him, and from a current sister who wanted to give us information but not use her name. But I’m meeting with the president tomorrow, and I’m hoping to get more answers. The veiled threat feels more like someone who isn’t going to act on it, but I can’t be certain.”
“Any idea who wrote the anonymous letter?”
“No. I have an idea, but I need to confirm it. It was someone who attended the party, an alumna. They want the truth exposed, but don’t want to be the one who talks.”
“Loyalty in Greek Life is both good and bad, same with us in law enforcement.”
She drained her beer and got up to retrieve a water bottle. The sausage on the pizza was spicy, just the way she liked it.
“I’ll listen to the podcast tomorrow, see what you come up with.”
“Do that. And if you think I need to go in a different direction, text me.”