The Sorority Murder (Regan Merritt, #1)(7)

“I’m well aware of your kinetic personality, Marshal.”

“I’m not a marshal anymore, Henry.”

“Your father is no longer the sheriff, but most people address him as such.”

With Henry, sometimes there was no winning.

“I’m happy to speak, on occasion—once a semester, maybe—guest lecture like I did today. But I’m not generally interested in shaping young minds or grading papers. But thank you anyway.”

“I’m going to ask again.”

She smiled, sipped her drink. “Of course you are. The answer will still be no.”

Regan saw movement in the hallway outside the door. Classes were on the first floor, staff offices on the second. Because of his position in the CCJ department, Henry was afforded the largest, quietest office at the end of the hall. He never closed his door.

A student stood in the doorway about to knock when he saw Regan. He was skinny, about five foot nine—same height as Regan—with dark hair that curled at his collar. Dark eyes, naturally tan skin, dressed in an NAU Lumberjack sweatshirt and jeans, like half the students on campus. His most distinguishing feature was his bright green Converse high-tops. And because of the Day-Glo shoes, Regan recognized that he’d been at her lecture that afternoon.

“Lucas! Come in.” Henry spoke before the kid said anything.

Henry was unsurprised at the interruption, which immediately made Regan suspicious.

“Regan, Lucas is one of my top students. A CCJ and biology dual major.”

“Forensics,” Regan said. She’d been a CCJ and psychology dual major because she had considered criminal profiling and had even thought about becoming a psychiatrist. Time and money—and the fact that the thought of years of medical school made her hyperventilate—had her ending her academic career with two degrees in four years and no regrets.

“I’m hoping to get in with Phoenix PD,” Lucas said, his scratchy voice showing his nerves. He cleared his throat. “They have an awesome lab, but mostly, that’s where my family is. My older brother is going through the police academy now. My mom’s a nurse, my sisters are still in high school. I really enjoyed your presentation today.”

“Thank you.”

“Lucas has developed one of the most interesting capstone projects I’ve seen in my two decades teaching here,” Henry said. “He’s hosting a podcast about an unsolved campus murder that happened a few years ago. Lucas, please, sit down. Join us.”

Lucas sat in the other guest chair, the one still facing the desk. He had surprisingly good posture—maybe because of his short stature. Too often Regan saw kids who had perpetually slumped, misaligned shoulders because they carried heavy backpacks on one side for years.

“Tell Regan about your podcast. The Sorority Murder. Isn’t that a provocative title?”

“It is,” Regan concurred. “Is this about that nursing student who was killed three years back? My dad talked about it once or twice.”

Lucas nodded. “Candace Swain—a nursing student with Sigma Rho sorority—was found dead in the lake at the Hope Centennial Golf Course. While the police had a suspect, a transient who was seen on campus several times in the weeks leading up to her disappearance, they never found him. According to a witness, he was seen jumping on a freight car shortly after her body was found.”

Regan remembered a few details about the case. “What’s the purpose of your podcast?” she asked.

“Well, there’s a lot of oddities about the case that I want to explore, but mostly I want to retrace her steps, from her disappearance until her death.”

Lucas leaned forward, clearly excited about his project. “Candace went missing shortly after midnight on a Friday right after the Sigma Rho Spring Fling ended. Her body was found Sunday morning—over a week later,” he emphasized. “No one has come forward to say they had seen her, talked to her, anything.

“The police know that Candace was friendly with a transient, Joseph Abernathy, through her volunteer work. Several witnesses said Candace confronted him the night she disappeared. My theory is that the police had it in their heads that Abernathy was guilty, and they didn’t fully look at other options. There was some circumstantial evidence against Abernathy, and his disappearance is suspicious. But I’ve done a lot of research over the last few months, and I’m positive something else happened.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Just not what the police think.” He took a deep breath. “I’m really getting ahead of myself. Here are the facts. Candace disappeared after the party. She was seen arguing with another sorority sister and walked off, upset. She wasn’t reported missing until Monday night. Her roommate had gone home that weekend and assumed when she returned late Sunday that Candace was with her boyfriend, so she didn’t worry about her until later. The campus police found Candace’s vehicle in the parking structure on Tuesday morning. They called her family, her friends, and then notified Flagstaff PD on Wednesday morning. At that point it would seem she’d been missing for five days.

“Flagstaff PD retraced campus-police steps—talking to her friends, her family. Candace was romantically involved with two men, a student and a bartender. They were both interviewed. Police also went to Sunrise Center, where Candace regularly volunteered, to talk to Abernathy, but he hadn’t been seen by staff for more than a week. This apparently wasn’t unusual because he only slept at the shelter when it was cold, though they were surprised he hadn’t come in for a meal. There had been previous complaints about Abernathy from business owners, so the police knew who he was and issued a BOLO.