The Sorority Murder (Regan Merritt, #1)(59)

“She may not have intended to kill herself, Lucas. It could have been—probably was—an accidental overdose.”

“Yeah—but on purpose or not, I didn’t start this podcast to hurt anyone. I did it to find the truth.”

“That’s a good thing, Lucas. You can’t blame yourself for the decisions other people make. The truth is always important.”

He stared at his half-eaten meal, then said, “How about if you talk to Traverton, and I’ll continue my research on the sorority as soon as I’m done with my morning class.”

“Then, after that, we should go to Sunrise Center. You have a relationship already with the director, but it might be time to follow up.”

“Okay. I have an afternoon class at two, so I can meet you there by four.”

She agreed. “Remember what I said last night.” Regan drained her coffee.

“Be careful, watch my surroundings, do things different than normal.”

“You’re a quick study.”



Twenty-Five


After Regan learned from McCarthy’s that Richie Traverton would come on shift at eleven, she spent the morning doing basic research. Having the Merritt name helped tremendously: anyone who’d lived in Flagstaff for more than ten years knew who her father was, and many of the old-timers still remembered her grandfather. Her generation remembered that her brother had broken the RBI record in high school—43. It didn’t break the state record, but no one had matched it at their high school since.

People in the know informed her that Detective Young had a decent record. He’d made a lateral move from Phoenix PD four years ago after his divorce, bringing along his daughter, now nine. He had full custody, so there might be something to the rumors she’d heard about his “crazy” ex-wife. Not relevant, but it was always good to know as much as possible about the background and motivations of the people around you. The big plus was that he was considered a good cop; the big negative was that he rarely worked overtime and didn’t pick up the slack, causing some friction among his colleagues. That could be because he was a single dad, or it could be because he was lazy, or a combination of both. The Candace Swain homicide was the first homicide in Flagstaff that he’d worked, but he hadn’t been in homicide in Phoenix, which suggested that it may have been the first homicide he had ever worked.

After chatting with local cops who still knew and loved her dad, Regan headed over to the campus. She confirmed with NAUPD that security tapes were deleted after thirty days; nothing had been saved from the week Candace had disappeared, except for the dorm recordings from that weekend when she first went missing through the Sunday her body was found.

Young most likely had possession of that tape. She wondered why he hadn’t requested more. But with a property that size, she supposed if he asked for the whole week for the entire campus it would be a substantial amount of data. By the time he’d learned that the victim hadn’t drowned in the lake, the aquatic center recordings had been erased.

She also learned more about security at the library. Doors and windows that opened were wired. No motion sensors inside that might have tripped an alarm. Security cameras in the lobby, the information desk, the entrances, elevator interiors, technology wing, and rare-books room. That left more than half the square footage not covered by cameras, including none of the bathrooms or study rooms.

Regan decided to take a walk around the library herself to identify all the cameras. The library had changed quite a bit since she’d been there. The lobby had been remodeled and felt more open; the study rooms on the first and second floors now had glass walls, and they didn’t feel as claustrophobic; and the technology center had moved over. The tech center had its own wing and a secondary door, which could be locked separately from the main library.

Where would someone hide at closing time? She was surprised by how much space was not covered by cameras—such as the entire third floor, outside of the elevator bank, and the staircases.

She had no idea what the exact process was for the librarians or security guards when they closed the building for the night. Did they do a walk-through to make sure no one was inside? Check each of the bathrooms? Each study room? If someone wanted to hide, Regan figured they could, if they were familiar with the library. After an hour of exploration, she determined that the best way to intentionally get locked in would be to stay on the third floor in one of the study rooms along the north wall. Candace could have easily hidden in the book stacks, then slipped into one of the rooms until the library officially closed. She could have slept there, and the bathroom on the third floor didn’t have a lock, and there were no cameras between it and the study rooms.

But why? It made no sense to Regan why she would do that when she had a dorm room on campus, at least one boyfriend off campus, and her parents only a day’s drive away.

If the callers from the last podcast episode were accurate, Candace was seen briefly in the library Monday night...and exited Tuesday morning. That suggested she stayed the night.

Without more information, Regan couldn’t figure out the why.

Regan waited until after the lunch rush before she headed to McCarthy’s to talk to Richie Traverton. She arrived at two and ordered a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries while sitting at the bar, the best place to engage in a conversation. The burger was good, and the fries were better than expected.