Kate devoured the rest of the letters. Some were filled with paranoid ramblings that supported Dr. Holley’s memories of Julia’s delusions: mysterious shadow figures following her around; the walls talking to her in “scratch language;” ordinary objects were in fact microphones. But other letters were sober and introspective. A few hinted at past love affairs, practically taunting Bram with her infidelity. Julia accused him of cutting her off from old friends and not letting her be herself. She’d given up so much to marry him—her freedom, her college education, her independence. She felt suffocated and unloved.
Julia’s final letter to Bram bragged about her life with William Stigler—how supportive he was, what a good listener, how he didn’t expect her to stay at home and take care of him. At last, here was a man who wanted her to be happy and fulfilled. How liberating! How exhilarating! She ended the letter by demanding a divorce. She wanted full custody of their daughters.
Kate pictured her father’s impotence in the face of her mother’s betrayal. She couldn’t wait any longer. She needed answers now.
42
KATE DROVE ACROSS TOWN toward the sprawling university campus. She found a place to park and powered up her iPad, searching for more information on Professor William Stigler. Hundreds of articles and scientific papers popped up. She found his university profile again and checked out his lengthy CV. He’d attended Columbia University as an undergrad and received his PhD in Sociology from NYU. He’d come to Blunt River for his postdoctoral fellowship and had racked up an impressive number of private and government grants. He’d co-authored hundreds of articles. How could such a high-profile tenured professor be a serial killer? She studied his picture again. He was in his late fifties, around the same age as her father, and yet they were light-years apart. Stigler was swaggeringly handsome, with hipster eyeglasses, a fashionable tweed jacket, and a charming smile.
The Clarence Oberon Building was located a few blocks away from The Dude, a popular campus coffee shop. She stood outside the glass-and-steel structure and listened to the blustery wind. A massive storm was brewing, gray cumulous clouds towering ominously in the distance.
Inside, the vast open-concept lobby was sleek and modern, and the adjacent student lounge was crowded with young men in Sherpa hats and women in Patagonia jackets sipping mochaccinos and chai lattes. Tall windows and skylights soaked the place with a muted winter light. Kate signed in at the front desk and headed for the bank of elevators.
According to the directory, Stigler’s office was on the fourth floor. Kate pressed the button and waited, feeling skittish. Palmer would be furious, but her curiosity was all-consuming. Anyway, Kate would be careful. She just wanted to catch a glimpse of the man who was Palmer’s prime suspect.
She rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and stepped into a long corridor. Stigler’s office was at the far end, past dozens of faculty offices and seminar rooms. She stopped about ten yards away and lingered in front of a bulletin board. Stigler’s office appeared to be empty—she didn’t detect any movement behind the etched glass.
A girl in a quilted parka hurried past, stopped in front of Stigler’s door, and knocked. “Professor Stigler?” She tried the door but it was locked. She scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it in half, slid it under the door and left.
As soon as she was gone, Kate ventured down the corridor for a closer look. She stood in front of Stigler’s door, and studied the New Yorker cartoons taped to it. How many sociologists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? One, but the lightbulb needs to sign a consent form.
She felt a presence behind her.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
Kate nearly jumped out of her skin. “I was just reading the captions.”
“Ice-breakers.” William Stigler held a Starbucks in one hand and his keys in the other. He looked just like his photograph, with striking blue eyes and neatly trimmed hair going silver at the temples. He projected an aura of upbeat friendliness and openness—as if here was a teacher you could trust. No hint at the man Palmer claimed he was. “Can I help you?” he repeated.
Kate blushed. “I’m applying for a position in the psych department, and I’m interested in the work you did at Godwin Valley,” she lied.
“In that case, come on in.” Stigler balanced his drink as he unlocked the door and stepped aside. He gestured for her to go in first. “Sorry about the mess. I’m sure there are a couple of health code violations going on, but whatever.” He flashed a rakish grin.
Kate hesitated on the threshold. Stigler’s window offered a sweeping view of the winter-wonderland campus. Heaps of messy paperwork tumbled across his desk. She went inside, and it felt like walking into a buzz saw.
“Have a seat.” Stigler let the door swing shut behind them and waved at the leather chair angled in front of his desk. He scooped up the note from the floor and dropped it onto his desk without looking at it.
She sat down and nervously crossed her legs.
“What can I do for you? Sorry—I didn’t ask your name.”
To her utter amazement, Kate said, “I think you knew my mother.”
“Who’s your mother?”
“Julia Wolfe.”
There was a conspicuous pause, during which Professor Stigler sipped his coffee, then set the cup down and folded his hands on his desktop. “Ah. You must be Kate.”
She nodded stiffly.
He studied her for a moment. “You know, I’ve always wondered if you’d ever get in touch. And here you are.”
Kate could feel the heat creeping up her neck. “I had no idea you existed until yesterday,” she said. “I just found out about your affair with my mother.”
“Really?” He gave her a skeptical look. “Your father never mentioned me?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Somebody else told me.”
Stigler’s jaw muscles tightened. “Let me guess. Palmer Dyson. That’s why you’re here, right? He sent you to spy on me.”
Wow, that was dumb. She’d just blown everything in about two seconds. Palmer would be apoplectic. “No, he didn’t send me,” she insisted. “As a matter of fact, he warned me not to come.”
“Right. Because I’m so dangerous.” He laughed. “Right?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“Christ.” Stigler’s eyes grew cold. “After Makayla Brayden disappeared, I had the mistaken impression I could be of some use to the police, since I’d interviewed her family for one of my research projects. There was a history of alcoholism and domestic violence. But as soon as I came forward, it set off some kind of serial-killer radar in Dyson’s head. He’s been targeting me ever since, harassing the people I work for, violating my privacy, talking to colleagues, students, friends, neighbors. I swear to God, if it doesn’t stop, I’ll take legal action.”
“Like I said, he didn’t send me,” Kate said firmly. “I came here of my own volition.”
“Why?”
“I was curious.”
“Let me explain something,” he said, opening his top desk drawer.
Kate tensed, heart hammering. She had no idea what he was reaching for. She gripped the arms of her chair, ready to bolt.
Stigler held up a tin of Cavendish & Harvey Coffee Drops. “Want one? No?” He popped one into his mouth. “When Vicky Koffman disappeared, I was in Germany for a three-day conference,” he said, sucking on the drop. “When Maggie Witt went missing, I was delivering a lecture at Boston University. The police have cleared me of any wrongdoing. Detective Dyson knows this, but he can’t help himself. The guy needs a new hobby.”
“Palmer knows this already?”
“Of course.” Professor Stigler sighed. “Let me ask you something. Are you a perfectly normal human being? Because I’m not. I can’t help what attracts me. I have a morbid curiosity. Dyson and I are actually very much alike. We’re both obsessed with dysfunctional families and unsolved murder cases.” He leaned forward. “You look like your mother, you know.”
Kate gave a stunned nod.
“She created quite a stir at the hospital. She was gorgeous and charming. And she had a great sense of humor. She’d bum cigarettes from me, and we’d go hang out on the veranda. We got to talking. She was devastatingly intelligent. That laugh of hers… Mostly I listened, and after a while, she began to open up. Eventually, I had to eliminate her from the study because… well, our relationship progressed.”