The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(78)

“I just don’t get it,” Rick said. “Where could she be? She’s not here. She wasn’t at the law school, and she’s not answering her phone. I thought we’d at least find her mom here, but she’s gone too. Everyone’s freakin’ disappeared.” Rick banged his fist against the apartment door. “You said you had someone working on it. Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing,” Tom said, checking his cell phone for texts. “Look, I don’t get it either, but she has to turn up. I called the registrar of the law school on the way back into town, and she checked the records for me. Dawn is enrolled for summer school and went to class yesterday. She’s here... somewhere.”

Rick nodded and started to say something, but was interrupted by the sound he’d been waiting two hours to hear. His cell phone was ringing. Feeling his heart clench, Rick ripped the phone out of his pocket and pressed the answer button. Please be her.

“Hello, Dawn?”

For several seconds, Rick heard nothing on the other end of the line.

“Who is it?” Tom asked, stepping closer to Rick. Rick shrugged his shoulders.

“Hello,” Rick repeated. “Who is...”

“They’re going to kill her.” The voice came out in a strained whisper, and Rick felt goosebumps break out on his arm. “Kill who?” he asked, his voice also a whisper. More silence. “Kill who?” Rick repeated. Who is this? “Kill wh–”

The line went dead.

“Who was is it?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know. A woman, I think. All she said was, ‘They’re going to kill her.’ She obviously knew my cell phone.”

“They’re going to kill her?” Tom said, rubbing his chin.

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other, both getting it at the same time.

“Oh, Christ,” Rick said, his face going white. “Dawn...”





65


Dawn Murphy turned off the computer and gazed at the blank screen. It was almost midnight, but she had finished the brief. Mr Tomkins would be able to review and revise it tomorrow, which had been her goal.

Sighing, she forced herself off the swivel chair and began turning off the lights in the office. After her debacle with Rick, she had called Daryl Tomkins at Tomkins & Fisher, and he had been thrilled to hire her back. She knew she was lucky to have a job, but she didn’t feel lucky. She felt depressed. Sad. Tired. And most of all, confused.

She knew this was the week of Ruth Ann’s trial. There hadn’t been any press coverage yet, but she remembered the date. She had wanted to call Rick and wish him luck. In fact, she had picked up the phone several times and started to dial the number, but she just couldn’t go through with it. Not after all the things they had said to each other.

She opened the back door to the office, and stepped out into the night. The parking lot was barren except for her white Mustang and the only sounds she heard were the passing of cars on Greensboro a few blocks up. She shut the door behind her, putting the key in the deadbolt and twisting it.

“Kinda late for a pretty girl like you to be out.”

Dawn turned to the sound of the voice, her stomach tightening into a knot. The lot was sparsely lit, and, for a moment, she didn’t see him. Then, standing by her Mustang, she saw a tall man, dressed in khaki pants and a golf shirt. As he stepped towards her, she noticed that his hair was sandy blonde and he had a patch of stubble on his face.

“Can I help you?” Dawn asked, her voice shaky. She reached into her pocket for her cell phone, but then remembered that the battery was dead. Damn, damn, damn. The man was in front of her now. He had continued to approach as if his appearance was completely natural. He smiled at her, and extended his hand.

“Yes, Ms Murphy,” he said, squeezing her hand until she shrieked in pain. “You can help me a great deal.”





66


Tom pulled the Explorer into Rick’s office at just past midnight.

“Damnit,” Rick said, his voice hoarse from fatigue. After leaving Dawn’s apartment, they had driven up and down McFarland and Skyland Boulevards, checking restaurant parking lots, the Mall, and every other place they could think of. Nothing. Then, they had moved to the Strip on University Drive, walking in all the bars and restaurants there. Still nothing. Now, they were downtown and dead out of options.

“Maybe she’s out of town,” Tom broke in. “That’s better than...” Tom didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to.

Rick shook his head. “Why would she go out of town in the middle of summer school?”

Tom sighed. “I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. Think, damnit. Think. He looked at Rick. “Do you know if she’s taken another job?”

Rick shrugged, looking down at the floorboard. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since she quit. I have no idea. But–” he snapped his fingers and jerked his head up “–she clerked at Tomkins & Fisher last summer. Maybe...”

But his words were drowned out by the sound of screeching tires, as Tom floored it out of Rick’s parking lot. Tomkins & Fisher was on 2nd Street. Three blocks away.

Please be there, Tom thought, looking at the clock on the dash. 12.13am. It was so late. The trial would crank back up in less than nine hours, but Tom wasn’t worried about the trial or the case.