Best Laid Plans (Lucy Kincaid, #9)

“Ma’am, visitors need to check in with the administration.”


She showed them her visitor’s pass. “Were either of you on duty the weekend that Scott Sheldon disappeared?”

“You’ll have to speak to the chancellor, ma’am.”

“I should instead speak with your security chief.”

“I’m sorry, we’re not authorized to talk with the press. All press inquiries must go through the communications director.” He paused. “But you know that.”

“I do. I spoke to her earlier and she helped me get this visitor’s pass.” Which was true. Adair did direct her to the appropriate office to obtain it. “Thank you for your help.”

She turned to head to the bookstore, hoping that the staff there would point her to Jess Sanchez’s dorm. The taller officer said, “Ma’am, we’ve had a complaint that you were harassing three of our students. Your visitor’s pass has been canceled, and we need to ask you to leave. If you would like to return, you’ll need to check in with the administration.”

She considered her options. She really wanted to talk to Jess, but she also wanted to investigate the picture she’d downloaded. She didn’t want Art to figure out that she’d spoken to Jess, either. He might scare her into being silent. She seemed like a tough girl, but under the surface had been skittish. And fearful of Art.

“I’m leaving,” she told the security officers. They escorted her to her car. She turned and thanked them. “You can tell your boss I’ll be back with more questions.”

She got into her car and saw the campus cops standing in the rain, watching her drive off.

Her phone rang. She’d forgotten to set up the Bluetooth in the rental, so pulled over to the side, right by the main entrance to the campus. She answered the unfamiliar number.

“Ms. Revere? This is Chuck Pence from the park service. I head up search and rescue. I got your message.”

“I’m in town and would like to talk to you about the search for Scott Sheldon’s body.”

“You’re in Colorado?”

“Yes, just leaving Cheyenne College right now after an enlightening conversation with Scott’s friends. Do you have time to meet? I can come by your office now.”

“I’m still on the road. I can meet you somewhere in two hours.”

That would be close to six. “I’m staying at the Broadmoor. I’ll meet you in the main lobby at six.”

“I’ll be the man with the dog.”

She smiled and hung up. With a final glance at the Cheyenne College sign, Max pulled back onto the road and headed for her hotel. She would most certainly return.





CHAPTER FIVE



Max’s friends had often criticized her that she was prone to judgment. She assessed people quickly, and experience had proved that her initial opinion was generally accurate. Even with her college roommate, Max had been dead-on with her assessment—which included the fact that Karen had a big, fat, trusting heart. Max was drawn to that, maybe because she found it so difficult to trust anyone.

Chuck Pence walked in promptly at six with a beautiful golden retriever. But it wasn’t just the dog that identified Pence to Max; it was also his no-nonsense manner and his no-nonsense voice, which Max remembered from their phone conversations.

Pence had the sharp eyes of a cop, but with a focused calm Max didn’t often see in the police she worked with. His movements were minimal, suggesting both confidence and military or police training. His dog, which wore a service collar, was young, not much more than a puppy—maybe two years. That the dog obeyed the subtle commands of its owner told Max more about Chuck than anything else.

Quiet. Focused. Sharp. Max suspected he preferred dogs to people and probably didn’t like crowds.

She already liked him.

She approached Chuck with a smile. “Mr. Pence, I’m Maxine Revere. Thank you for meeting with me.” She surveyed the lounge.

“Trixie is a service dog,” Pence said. “She can stay.”

“There are heat lamps outside. It would afford more privacy.”

“Lead the way.”

She opened the terrace doors that led to the outdoor lounge. A few other brave souls were enjoying the crisp evening under heat lamps. The intermittent rain from the afternoon had cleared up; moonlight lit the high clouds. She found a table away from the doors.

The hostess approached with a smile. “May I get you and your guest anything, Ms. Revere?”

“Pinot grigio for me.” She turned to Pence. “You?”

“Coffee,” he said. “Black.”

The hostess left and Max leaned back. Pence didn’t. She began.

“First, thank you for coming out here. I would have been happy to meet with you tomorrow at your office.”