Best Laid Plans(140)

Tom had been tweeting for the past hour from his English class about how bored he was, and it took Max only a few minutes to learn he was in Edwin C. Becker Hall. While walking across the campus, she pulled up his social media photos and found a recent likeness. She also found photos of Cowan and Ibarra and now could pick them out in a crowd.

She asked a passing student what classroom Mr. Thurston taught in, and was directed to the second floor of Becker Hall.

Max leaned against the wall outside Thurston’s class and thought about how to approach Keller. He seemed to have found his wild side in college. Numerous photos showed him visibly intoxicated at parties. Didn’t these kids know that everything they posted on the Internet was permanent? Max supposed a future employer might overlook a few drunken college parties, but Tom was going to have to grow up.

She could use that.

The English class was over at 12:10, so Max had a few minutes to dig into Keller. There wasn’t much more than what she’d found on his social media pages. He was interested in video games, drinking, girls, and not much else. There was also something missing.

She scrolled back through his photos as far back as they went—nearly three years—and there were no pictures taken while camping, fishing, or hiking. If fact, he appeared to have no interest in camping. Odd, considering where he went to college.

It might not mean anything, but she felt the twinge she got when information didn’t fit. She wished she could scour the pages of Cowan and Ibarra. She was able to scroll through their friends—Jess Sanchez was in both lists. Would Jess let Max use her log-in to access their pages? Max would definitely ask.

Students began to exit the class a few minutes before it was officially over. Keller was one of the first kids out, and Max immediately followed him. He was a tall and gangly kid, not quite beefy enough to fill out his frame. He slouched slightly, as if he’d grown early and never been comfortable with his height.

“Tom,” she called out when they were at the base of the stairs.

He turned and spotted her, gave her an obvious look up and down. “You’re not in my class,” he said with a flirty grin. “Unless you’re the new teaching assistant.”

“Maxine Revere, reporter.” She handed him her card. “Let’s talk.”

He stared at her card, his brows pulled together. “Reporter?”

“Scott Sheldon.”

He handed back her card. “I need to go.”

“I have a few questions.”

He brushed past her. “I have nothing to say.”

“Why? If what you said happened is true, why don’t you want to talk about it?”

He turned and stared, his eyes narrow. “If? What’s your deal? What do you mean, ‘if’? I told everyone what happened. Why do you care?”

“Scott is classified as a missing person. Were you aware that the rangers are still looking for his body? When they find him, they’ll know what happened.”

The kid, already white, paled even more. “They know what happened because we told them what happened. You have no right to harass me.”

Keller’s voice rose, squeaky and worried. Others in the hall looked over, overtly curious. Max didn’t care. She wasn’t the one with something to hide.

“I’m not harassing you, Tom.”

“I don’t have to talk to you.”

He bumped into a group of students in his haste to get away from her. He scowled at them, then pushed open the double doors and hurried outside into the steadily falling drizzle.

Something was definitely up.

*



Max went back to the bookstore to talk to Jess about her social media password, and Jess told her she couldn’t talk.

“When do you get off?” Max asked.

“Two thirty. I really don’t want to get involved.”

“You already are, and I think you know that.” But Max could wait if it would encourage Jess to cooperate. She said, “I’ll be back in two hours. Just to talk, okay?”

“Whatev,” Jess said, and went to ring up a student.

Max went outside and frowned at the wet sky. If she was here on campus until three or later, she wouldn’t have time to visit the campsite. Tomorrow, she’d do it first thing.

She located the campus security office on the map and walked briskly to the small building west of the main administration wing. By the time she arrived, her coat and hair were more than a little damp.

The office was dry, warm, and set up like a police bull pen with a front desk separated by a low partition and ten or twelve desks, each backing to another. Four of the desks were currently occupied. The receptionist smiled. “May I help you?”

She handed the woman her card. “I called two days ago, but no one returned my call.”

The receptionist returned Max’s card. “You can go to the administration building and talk to the public affairs director.”

“I need to speak with the head of security.”

“Is it a security matter?”

“Yes.”

It was, after all, a matter of how they conducted their security operations.

“You’re not a student.”

“No.”

“You’ll have to speak to the public affairs director. I can’t help you.”

Max wanted to push, but she assessed the receptionist as well as the security officers who were giving her the eye. The eye that told her they were suspicious of outsiders.