“I’ve been thinking,” her dad said.
She started to clean up. She didn’t want to know what her dad was thinking, not with the tone he had.
“Listen,” he said.
“Dad—”
“No, listen, Regan Marie. You’re a grown woman, and you can make your own decisions. I understand not wanting to go back to the Marshals Service. And I like having you around. We’re both adults, and I know you don’t want to live under my roof forever. I want you to consider Granddad’s apartment, above the barn. It’s structurally sound and wouldn’t take too much money to remodel the space, put in new appliances, paint it, do whatever you want. If you live there for a few months or for years, I don’t care, but you’d have your own space. For you—not so much for me. Like I said, I like having you here.”
That was the last thing she’d expected from him. She thought he was going to push the security job with his friend, or encourage her to apply for the sheriff’s department or something...but the apartment?
“I like being here,” she admitted. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course. No rush. Just wanted you to know that it’s there if you want it.”
She finished cleaning up and put the last two pieces of pizza in a baggie for breakfast.
Then she sat back down and said, “I think Lucas has a personal reason for pursuing this podcast. I just can’t figure out what it is. It was just an odd comment he made the other day that I’ve been twisting around in my mind.”
“Have you looked at his background? Didn’t you say his brother was in the police academy?”
“Phoenix. I know a bit about his family. He hasn’t lost anyone to violence. Two sisters in high school, older brother, single mom. I had the sense that the father just left or they divorced and he doesn’t see his dad. Mom is a nurse, which might be a psychological reason for Lucas’s obsession with the Candace Swain murder.” She paused, considered maybe a friend...extended family...neighbors. She asked her dad, “Do you remember any other murders on campus?”
“NAU is pretty safe,” said the retired sheriff. “There was a tragic shooting—alcohol-related—that ended up with a plea deal and manslaughter charge. It started off campus. Rape is the number-one violent crime, and my guess is that the majority of those cases involve alcohol.”
“That doesn’t make it justified.”
“No,” he said, “but it makes it a lot harder to get a clean prosecution.”
“Missing persons?” she asked her dad. “An off-campus, unsolved homicide?”
“I’m sure there must be some,” he answered. “I don’t know off the top of my head. I’ll look them up for you tomorrow, give me something to do.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I may be retired, but I still have a sharp mind.”
“Then answer me this,” she said. “Taylor James is dead. She died of a drug overdose. I think she knew a lot more about Candace’s death than she said, but I didn’t get the vibe when I talked to her yesterday that she was going to fall off the wagon.”
“Do you want me to find out more?”
She nodded. “I’d really like to know if there is any chance that the overdose was intentional.”
“Suicide.”
“Or homicide.”
Twenty-Nine
Friday
On her way to town Friday morning, Regan stopped by Lucas’s apartment to check on him. She wasn’t positive that the notes he received were a prelude to a physical attack, but she was cautious by nature.
She also wanted to give him an opportunity to talk more about his motives. She didn’t think he was being deceptive, but she kept going through all their conversations, and there was just a little niggle of a doubt that he hadn’t been completely up-front with her about his motivation.
“I’m meeting with the sorority advisor and president in an hour,” she said.
“Ask if Vicky will let me interview her for the podcast,” he said. “Maybe come on live. She can say anything she wants—talk about how Candace mentored her, how her death impacted her. And I can ask about the last time she saw her.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said.
“They won’t even talk to me, so you’re my best hope.”
“I was going through all my notes last night and listened to the podcasts again, trying to wrap my head around a few things.”
“I went through my notes, too. Great minds,” he said with a laugh.
“Yeah, well, one thing you said about the last time you saw Candace. You were at the sorority to go to the party—”
“No, I went to talk to Candace. She’d quit tutoring, and I really needed her help for my English class.”
“When I was talking to Richie, he said that she quit tutoring before spring semester.”
“Yeah, so?”
“The party was in April.”
“I used her in the fall, and I wanted to use her again. She helped. She said she was too busy. Why does it matter?”
“I’m trying to determine what was going on in her life, what might have led up to the argument with Taylor. Richie implied that she was irritated with someone she was tutoring. I thought you might have known something about it.”
“No. We weren’t friends, just friendly.”
It wasn’t what Lucas was saying, it was his tone and the way he averted his eyes.
Did she press now? Or wait? Would he come around on his own? He was a smart kid, and she had grown to like him quite a bit. He pushed when warranted, listened when he didn’t know something, and assessed information critically. She liked that.
She wanted him to tell her everything, even if it wasn’t important to Candace’s murder. Because if his motivation was personal, it might cloud his judgment if there was an actual threat to him. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.
She decided to wait. Maybe it was nothing.
“I also found out Alexa Castillo teaches in Flagstaff. Let’s go pay her a visit this afternoon, okay?”
“How’d you do that?”
“Lots of patience and false leads, but she’s a teacher, and there are public records. So I went down a rabbit hole and got lucky.”
“What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around two thirty? We’ll head over there, catch her right after classes end.”