They walked out together. Lizzy planned to take the bus back to campus, but Regan gave her a ride as it wasn’t too far out of the way. She didn’t think that Lizzy would be in danger—Lucas was the face of the podcast—but as Lizzy said, it was best to be super cautious.
Regan couldn’t find parking anywhere close to the elementary school because dozens of cars were lined up to pick up kids. She parked around the corner and waited. She’d wait until most of the kids and parents were gone, then head in.
While they waited, she said to Lucas, “Vicky Ryan seems to be at the center of this. She wants to end the podcast. She knew Candace, had seen her that night, witnessed part of the argument. She claimed she didn’t hear what it was about but mentioned that Rachel was there as well. Did you know about that?”
“No, it has never come up, and it wasn’t in the police report.”
“So Rachel was there during the argument, along with Kimberly Foster and possibly others. Why would anyone lie about what the fight was about?”
“Maybe,” Lucas considered, “the fight was about more than Abernathy. Maybe it started out that way but devolved into something else.”
Possible, but without someone who was there to confirm, they could only speculate.
“Rachel simply confirmed what we have already been told, then went on to say she should have called the police on Abernathy, and Candace may still be alive. Rachel and Vicky believe he’s guilty. They don’t even question it. Though Rachel said something interesting, that she wouldn’t be surprised if she learned that Taylor had hurt Candace.”
“Hurt? Like, her feelings?”
“Her tone said killed. She just didn’t use the word.”
“Wow.”
“I don’t know what to think, but someone in that sorority knows exactly what happened to Candace Swain, and I’m at the point where I’m more than a little irritated. At the people keeping secrets and at the cops for not digging deeper. Abernathy looks good on the surface, but it doesn’t make sense when you look at everything else.”
Cars started easing up from the front of the school as parents and caregivers picked up the children. When the second of three buses pulled away, Regan and Lucas walked to the school.
If Taylor had lied to the police—or intentionally misled them about the argument—she could have lied about anything. She might have seen Candace during the time she was missing. She might have loaned her a car or money or even driven her somewhere. But why? And when she turned up dead, why wouldn’t Taylor have spoken up? Would someone at the sorority cover up a murder? An accidental death? What would be the motive for remaining silent?
Based on what they knew, Candace’s disappearance was voluntary. She had a prepaid phone and didn’t use her regular cell, which didn’t make sense. Maybe Candace didn’t want anyone to find her.
According to the police report, the phone left in the dorm had contained no information about Candace’s plans.
Regan pushed her questions aside as she and Lucas approached the main entrance. While schools had pretty tight security these days, and visitors had to go through the office to access any of the classrooms, once school was out for the day, the gates were often left open. That was the case here.
It was pretty easy to find Ms. Castillo’s classroom: the rooms were grouped by grade with teacher names on the door. Helpful arrows pointed her to the wing that housed grades one through three. Alexa Castillo’s room was in the far corner.
Through the windows, Regan saw Alexa working at her desk in the empty room. The door was locked so she knocked.
Alexa opened the door but stayed a step back, clearly telling Regan not to invade her space. She was an attractive young woman. Twenty-six, but she looked older, her hair up in a bun, wearing sensible pants and a blouse that was a generation too old for her. Little makeup, with blemish-free light brown skin and long lashes.
“May I help you?” she asked, smiling at first Regan, then at Lucas.
“I’m Regan Merritt. This is Lucas Vega. We’re looking into the death of Candace Swain for a podcast.”
Her face paled. Alexa would never be able to play poker. As soon as she said her name, Alexa knew who Regan was. She’d clearly listened to the podcast.
Alexa stepped back, cleared her throat. “I—um—yes? I don’t know how I can help you.”
“We’d like to talk to you about Candace Swain from NAU. You knew her.”
“Yes.”
Lucas said, “Were you at the party when Candace disappeared?”
“I don’t understand what you want from me.” Alexa was nervous, her eyes darting, as if looking for an escape. Guilt? Fear? Both?
“May we come in?” Lucas asked. “You’d probably like to sit down.”
“No, I’m sorry, this is my classroom. I can’t have personal business here,” she said firmly.
“Ms. Castillo,” Lucas said, “Regan has been helping me retrace Candace’s steps from after the party until she was found dead. We know she was in Kingman that weekend—her boyfriend said that she often visited a sorority sister who had already graduated. I narrowed down the possibilities, and you’re the most likely from that list. Did you see Candace that weekend?”
“Why?”
“Because I think you know why she disappeared and what she was doing. That will help us figure out what happened to her.”
“I can’t talk to you.”
Regan was watching Alexa carefully as Lucas questioned her. His words were straightforward, and his tone matter-of-fact, not confrontational. But the more questions he asked, the more agitated she became.
“You mean, you won’t talk to us,” Lucas said.
“I don’t know what you want, I don’t know why you’re here, I want you to leave. I’ll call security.”
She hadn’t denied seeing Candace.
Regan said, “Do you know that Taylor James died of an overdose Wednesday night?”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t known, and she looked terrified.
“Go away. Please. I have nothing to say to you. Nothing. Do not come here again. This is where I work.”