“Exactly. Cadwell knew it was Stark’s kid who’d gotten whacked. He wanted to be first to the scene, so he could protect him if necessary.”
Miranda gripped the steering wheel. Buddy Cadwell had taken her under his wing. He’d modeled the kind of cop she should be. There was right and wrong, no shades of gray in between. He’d taught her there was no place in police work for personal agendas.
“He wouldn’t have tampered with evidence,” she said. “Not Buddy, no way.”
“You heard President Stark. We can’t let these details out, he said. It would reflect badly on him and the university.”
The rain eased, then let up, stopping almost as quickly as it had begun. The clouds parted, the sun peeked out. She looked at Jake. “All this, is it why you lied for me back there?”
“I backed you up, Miranda, because whatever team Cadwell’s playing on right now, it’s not yours or, for that matter, mine either. And as far as I’m concerned, your word stands. Period.”
A lump settled in her chest. She had to tell him the truth, she realized, convinced by his absolute trust in her word. She’d opened her mouth to do just that when her cell went off.
“Detective Rader,” she answered.
“Detective, this is Jessie Lund’s neighbor, Max. You were by here last night looking for her.”
“Yes, Max. How can I help you?”
“You asked me to let you know if she showed up. And she did.”
“She’s there now?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think for long. I saw her putting stuff in her car. Like she’s moving.”
“Thanks, Max.” She cranked the engine. “We’re on our way.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
10:40 A.M.
Jessie Lund lived in one half of a small duplex on the west side of town. Most of the properties in this area were rentals, and university students occupied many of them. And it looked it: bikes chained to porch rails, trash cans sitting at curbs, overrun garden beds, and cars parked on lawns.
Miranda drove up to see Lund stuffing a cardboard box into the backseat of her small SUV. The head of a teddy bear poked out the top of the box; he seemed to be staring at her. Miranda parked directly behind Lund’s vehicle to prevent her from fleeing.
Miranda and Jake climbed out of the car, slamming their doors in unison. The girl looked up and her eyes went as wide and vacant as the stuffed bear’s.
“Jessie Lund?” Miranda said, holding up her shield. “Harmony PD. We need to ask you a few questions.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“We’re not saying you did. We have a few questions, that’s all. How about we go inside?”
She silently agreed and started up the walk, tripping on the first porch step.
Jake caught her arm, steadying her. “You okay?”
She nodded and led them the rest of the way inside without incident.
The front door dumped them directly into the living room. Miranda moved her gaze over the space. Typical college, garage-sale decor—basic, mismatched, and well-worn. It was also in a state of chaos: half-filled boxes, stacks of books and various other items, a trash bag filled with what looked like clothes.
Miranda crossed to the bag and peered inside, then looked up. “You moving, Jessie?”
The girl sat hard. As if her legs refused to hold her a moment more. “Yes.”
“Where to?”
“Back home. To my mom’s house.”
“Why’s that?” Jake asked.
“I’m not in school anymore and I’m unemployed. I can’t afford my rent.”
“Makes sense,” he said, tone easy.
From the corner of her eye Miranda saw Jake take a note, and she stepped back in. “You were a grad student at ULH, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And a graduate assistant to Professor Richard Stark?” Lund nodded and looked down at her clenched hands. “Jessie, you are aware of what happened the night before last? That Professor Stark was murdered?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You don’t find all this—” she motioned the boxes, “—a bit of a coincidence? Coming just after Professor Stark’s murder?”
Her chin trembled. “Why would I?”
“Because it is. You were his graduate assistant for a year and a half. A month ago you quit school—and your job. Now he’s dead and you’re running away.”
“I’m not running away! I told you, I can’t pay my rent.”
“You were almost done with your master’s, am I right?” Lund agreed with her again. “So, why’d you drop out? A couple months, that’s all you had left.”
“A family emergency.”
“What kind?”
“It’s personal.”
“It must have been a big emergency, really serious, to make you drop out of a degree program when the finish line was so close.”
Her chin trembled. “It was.”
“Can I share something with you?” Miranda leaned forward, the way a girlfriend with a secret would. She lowered her voice. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but … a woman killed Professor Stark.”
Lund swallowed so hard Miranda heard it. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah, and we think we know why. Because she was in love with him and he wasn’t in love with her.”
With a strangled cry, she brought hand to her mouth, jumped to her feet, and ran to the bathroom.
Miranda followed, waiting outside the door. She heard the girl retch, and several moments later the flush of the toilet followed by running water.
Miranda tapped on the door. “Are you okay, Jessie?”
“Leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry, Jessie,” she said gently, “but I can’t do that. Either you come out or I come in.”
Silence followed and Miranda glanced at Jake. “Check the fridge. See if there’s a soda or something for her. If not, get an ice water.”
Miranda turned back to the door. “Detective Billings is getting you something cold to drink. Come on out. We only want to talk. I’m on your side, Jessie. We both are.”
The lock turned over and Jessie emerged, pale and shaking. Miranda took her arm. “Come sit down. It’s going to be okay.”
She led the young woman back to the lumpy couch and Jake handed her a drink. “Sprite,” he said.
“Thanks.” She took it and sipped. After a few moments some color returned to her cheeks.
“Feel well enough to talk some more?” Miranda asked.
“I guess.”
“Good.” She kept her tone low and soothing. “You remember what we were discussing before you got sick?”
The young woman’s lips trembled; she pressed them together and nodded.
“You were in love with Richard Stark, weren’t you?”
“Why do you think that?”
“We were told by several other students.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she looked down at her lap.
Miranda worked to keep her voice low and soothing. “That’s why you dropped out, isn’t it? You told him and he rejected you.”
“I was an idiot, the worst cliché. The plain Jane egghead in love with the handsome professor.”
“You were angry. And hurt. I get it.” Miranda smiled, encouraging. “So you made a plan. To make him pay for not loving you back.”
“What?” She shook her head. “I quit, dropped out. He wasn’t interested. When I saw the pity in his eyes, I fell apart. I couldn’t be around him anymore. It was—” her voice broke, “—torture.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Jake handed her a box of tissues.
“When was the last time you saw him?”