Shadow of Vengeance (24 page)

Before she could respond, Jake said, “Bill didn’t show up for his shift today. While I’ve got Adam Lynch on the phone, do you want to ask about Saturday night’s schedule?”

“Absolutely.” Rachel leaned across the desk and took the phone from Jake, stretching the curly cord taut. Minutes later, she handed the phone back to the sheriff. “Well, it turns out that Bill didn’t lie about picking up the Saturday night shift. He also
did
try calling other security guards to help him cover that same shift when he took sick.”

“Bill’s a legit guy,” Jake said.

“Then why didn’t he show up for the tox screen or go to work today?” Rachel pinched her chin between her finger and thumb, then leaned forward and rested her elbow on the desk. “Jake, do you know his family well enough to call and ask them if they’ve seen Bill?”

“He’s Joy’s nephew,” Owen reminded her. “We could ask her to make some calls. But the reality is, he’s a grown man. Could be he left work yesterday, stopped at the liquor store before heading to the lab, then maybe tied one on. He might be sleeping off a hangover as we speak.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t sound like something Bill would do. I’ve never known him to be much of a partier.” Jake stood and pocketed his cell phone. “Unless there’s anything else, I’ve got to run. Professor Stronach and some of the local business owners are butting heads over where they’re going to set up the stage for the bands scheduled to play during the festival.” With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “The temperature is supposed to be in the thirties during the day and the teens at night. Why the hell they need bands playing…anyway, I’ll call Bill’s dad and cousin. They all live on the same street, so they’d know where to find him.”

“Do you mind if we talk with your receptionist?” Rachel asked. “We don’t want to interfere with her job.”

“Not at all.” Jake shrugged into his coat, then frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in the stupid festival…you obviously spoke with campus security. Did they have a security tape from Stanley Hall?”

Rachel quickly filled the sheriff in on what they’d discovered, then finished by telling him the potential lead they’d gained from when they had spoken to the dean.

“I remember when the university updated their security system.” Jake leaned against the doorjamb. “That was about a year ago.”

Standing, Rachel moved toward the door. “I’m still waiting for the dean’s secretary to send me the donor’s info. Did you meet the man or know the name of his company?”

“Sorry, I didn’t meet him and can’t help you out with that one. Preston might be a little pompous, but he’s good about getting back to you. At least in my experience.”

Rachel looked as if she planned to say something more, but instead took the lead and headed down the hall toward the main foyer. Abby Zucker sat at the aged desk, the phone to her ear. As Jake waved good-bye to them, and Abby remained on the phone, Owen pulled Rachel to the far corner of the foyer.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“Jake.”

Fidgeting with her earrings, she glanced away. “I told you I’m not going to discuss—”

“No. That’s not where I was going…back in his office, what were you going to ask him?”

After looking over his shoulder toward where Abby sat, she moved a little closer. Her scent teased him, made him ache for a taste of her.

“Preston said Wexman put their no hazing policy in effect twenty-five years ago. I was going to ask Jake if we could look through files dating back to then, hoping Tom Miller actually filed a report.”

“Then why didn’t you? I can’t imagine you’ll find any records online. Then again, I can’t imagine the former sheriff bothering to leave much of a file behind, either.”

“No kidding. But I wasn’t going to try and hack into Dixon County’s system anyway. Well, at least not yet. It’s been my experience that very few counties have arrest records dating back that long, available online.” She looked to Abby again, then keeping her voice quiet, said, “But Wexman University might have what we need.”

“How so?”

“Wexman might be located in the backwoods of a small town, but they have an excellent engineering program. They also were one of the first universities to develop a Computer Engineering program. When Sean and I were researching colleges, I found out that Wexman was actually ahead of its time. Case Western Reserve offered the first computer engineering degree program in the early 1970s. Other colleges followed suit years later and by—”

“Rachel, focus.”

With a quick smile and nod, she said, “Sorry. Right. Okay, Wexman had their program up and running by 1975. I’d bet your next paycheck that if I happened to go into Wexman’s system, I might come across
something
that could shed some light on what happened that was
so
bad that they issued their no hazing policy. I bet I could also get a list of male students who were enrolled at the university between fifteen and twenty-five years ago, as well as faculty members.”

“That’s a lot of people to check up on, don’t you think?” While he liked fitting pieces of a puzzle together, what she suggested sounded more like time consuming busy work.

“Not if we match those people to local addresses or those living within a relatively short driving distance to the university. We can also cross-reference those names against seasonal residents, too.”

“I still like the idea of a faculty member or another university employee being behind this.”

“Me, too.” She pursed her lips. “I want to go to the bar.”

“A little early in the day for a drink, don’t you think? Not that I’m judging,” he added with a smile.
 

Grinning, she looked over his shoulder again. “A drink does sound good…looks like Abby is getting off the phone.” When she met his gaze again, she whispered, “Joy made it clear that she and other locals are afraid. Jake said the same thing. I was thinking we should start talking to the Townies, especially before Bigfoot rolls into town with his groupies and things get too chaotic. Maybe someone remembers hearing about what happened at the university twenty-five years ago.”

He liked that idea more than the time consuming busy work. What he’d like even more was to pretend Sean had never been beaten, that Josh was safely tucked away in his dorm room studying for an upcoming test, and that he and Rachel were exploring something other than possible kidnappers.
 

She nudged him with her elbow. “You take the lead on this one. Seems like these college girls like you.”

Owen stared at Rachel’s backside as she approached the desk. He could care less about those college girls. There was only one woman he wanted.

Chapter 10

Rachel’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim room, her nostrils flaring on a deep inhale. “Heavenly.” The mouthwatering aroma of fried bar food hung heavy in the air, along with the hint of musty, stale beer. The only thing missing was hazy cigarette smoke. Obviously the owners of River’s Edge had upheld Michigan’s no-smoking law. Not that she’d fire one up, but the secondhand smoke might have helped settle her nerves.

“Do you want to sit at a table or the bar?” Owen asked.

She looked to the bar and immediately recognized the tall, gangly man she’d seen hanging around outside of The House of Joy. “Do you know who that guy is? The one wearing the earflap hat.”

Nodding, Owen leaned closer. The smells from the bar were immediately replaced by his woodsy, outdoorsy scent. She thought about camping again. Something she really didn’t enjoy, but would consider if Owen were her tent mate. Even though she continued to tell herself to let it go—this emotional turmoil she experienced every time he was near her or she thought about him—that was proving difficult. He was constantly around and she constantly thought about him.
 

“That’s Walter Eastly,” Owen said. “I met him this morning. He lives at Joy’s, has for the past fifteen years.”

“Don’t you think that’s strange? I mean, living at a boarding house for that long?”

“I think
we
look strange just standing in the doorway.”
 

Smiling, she shoved a hand in her coat pocket. “You’re right, people are staring. Come on. Introduce me to Walter. Maybe he can help get a few of the Townies to talk to us.”

As she followed Owen through the crowd, she caught her reflection in the mirror hanging behind the long bar. An assortment of liquor bottles and neon beer signs hid parts of the mirror, but not enough to block her and Owen’s images. Seeing herself next to him had self-doubt creeping into her head. Owen had already removed his heavy, wool coat and carried it on his arm. He’d dressed casually today. Jeans, black boots, and a dark gray sweater, which unfortunately didn’t hide his muscular chest, arms and wide shoulders. Nope, that sweater just kept her imagination wandering down a road she had no business taking. And as she walked behind him, periodically checking their reflection in the mirror, she realized they, in no way shape or form, looked good together. Owen had the kind of physique and good looks that deserved a woman with similar qualities. She pictured a few of the women she’d seen him with over the years. Tall, leggy, super slender, gorgeous women. As much as she’d like to deny it, those women had looked good on Owen’s arm and were definitely what people would call eye candy. Whereas if she were the one on his arm, she’d be the opposite. Whatever that might be…eye fungus? Eye broccoli?
 

Smacking into Owen’s wide back, she rubbed her nose and fought the heat rising to her cheeks.
 

He quickly turned and grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t paying attention.” Because she was too busy thinking about him and opposite terms for eye candy. Pathetic.

He eyed her for a moment, then took a small step back, revealing the gangly man in the earflap hat. “Walter, this is my partner—”

“Shorty,” Walter said on a raspy chuckle and offered his hand. “Heard all about you from Joy. Wish I could have been there when you told her what’s what.”

Shaking his weathered hand, she smiled. Not the least offended by the nickname. With Walter’s teasing, hazel eyes and easy grin, “Shorty” came off like a term of endearment.
 

“It wasn’t all that exciting,” Rachel replied, then began slipping out of her bulky coat.
 

Owen pulled out an empty barstool and offered her a seat next to Walter. As she placed her coat on the back of the stool, the patron next to her scooted over to allow her more room. Before she could thank the man, he said, “You one of those investigators from Chicago, then?”

She glanced at Walter, who raised his beer mug to his lips. “It’s no secret,” he said, then sipped his beer. “People been wondering when someone was gonna come here and try to figure out what the hell’s going on at that school.”

Standing behind her, Owen draped his arm on the back of the stool and insinuated himself between her and Walter. “We heard it’s not just the school that needs some figuring.” He caught the bartender’s attention, a big, meaty man with a beer belly and more hair on his arms than his head, then turned to her. “Drink?”
 

She nodded, but before she could tell him what she wanted, Owen rattled off the order to the bartender. As she waited, the man next to her leaned into the scuffed, yet shiny wooden bar and said, “One don’t got anything with the other.”

“The hell you say.” Walter shook his head. “Hey, Percy, you might want to cut off Duke. The whiskey’s gone and burned the last of his brain cells.”

The bartender—Percy she assumed—set a drink in front of her. “Vodka tonic with a splash of Rose’s lime juice.” Then after giving Owen his whiskey and Coke, he turned his attention to the man on her right. “Walt’s right, Duke. Gramma didn’t walk herself into the river.”

A chill snaked along her neck, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Ethel Rodeck was the eighty-six-year-old Townie who had gone missing three years ago, and apparently Percy’s grandmother.

Using the skinny black straw, she stirred her drink. “Are you referring to Ethel Rodeck?” she asked, wanting to back her assumption.

“That’s right.”

“And you think someone kidnapped your grandma?”

Percy tossed a rag over his shoulder. “Nope. I think someone killed her.”

Next to her, Duke groaned, along with the man sitting to his right. “Here we go again,” Duke scrubbed a hand down his face, then tapped his empty glass. “I’ll have another. Hell, if I gotta listen to this story again, I’ll need it.”

Percy drew his dark, bushy eyebrows together and glared at Duke while he poured whiskey into the glass. “It ain’t a story. It’s a fact.”

“What makes you think someone killed her?” Owen asked.

“A few months before she died—”

“Disappeared,” Duke said.

Percy leveled Duke with an “I’m going to kick your ass” scowl, and said, “Gramma started complaining about seeing someone in the woods. At first she assumed it was a hunter, which pissed her off. She didn’t allow no hunters on her property.”

Walter chuckle. “Ain’t that the truth? If Gramma Rodeck caught you poaching on her land, she wasn’t afraid to pull out her shotgun and let you know you were trespassing.”

Smiling, Percy nodded. “The old woman was a piece of work.”