Best Laid Plans(144)

“I’m calling campus security,” Art said. But it was Carlos who pulled his phone from his pocket.

She had to talk fast. The papers she signed to get the visitor’s pass included a whole slew of rules, including an admonition not to harass students. Some people might think that questions were a form of harassment, and since she’d already tipped her hand to Stephanie Adair, she didn’t want to be removed from campus now.

“To confirm the time line, based on your statements to the police, you three, with Scott Sheldon, went to a known campground approximately an hour’s drive from here. When you arrived, you decided to hike two miles to another campground, less popular but still on the map. Friday night, even though it was forty degrees and dipped down to subzero temperatures before sunrise, Scott walked off, angry, because of an argument. To quote Art, ‘It was just a stupid disagreement.’”

She looked at the boys in turn. Tom stared at his feet, Carlos stared at Art, and Art stared at her.

She continued. “When Scott didn’t return Saturday morning, you went back to the truck and didn’t find him there. But instead of looking for him, or notifying the rangers’ station, you left. In fact, you didn’t notify anyone that Scott was missing until Sunday.”

“There was a storm,” Tom began. “We—”

“Shut up,” Art said, sneering at Tom. “Don’t talk to her.” He stepped toward Max. “Get out.”

If he thought he was intimidating, he was wrong. Max had gone up against far more intimidating men—and women—than Arthur Cowan.

“The storm didn’t really turn bad until Saturday afternoon. You could have called the rangers’ station, told them Scott was missing. They would have gone up there and looked for him until dark. Yet you waited until Sunday morning to inform campus security.” She eyed the boys carefully: Art, red with anger; Carlos, still focused on Art, concerned; Tom, pale and twitchy. “After that, it’s campus security who’s at fault for not contacting the rangers until late on Sunday.”

“It’s not our fault he left,” Tom said.

“Shut the f*ck up, Tom!”

Art took a step toward her. She wasn’t scared of the kid, but he was certainly hot under the collar. “Get out of my room. Now.”

“Your reaction tells me you’re a liar, Arthur. I will prove it.”

He pushed her. She took a step back, raised an eyebrow. “Touch me again, and I will put you down, little man.”

His eyes narrowed and he fisted his hands. Carlos stepped up. “Hey, Art, campus security is on their way.”

“Get out!” Art screamed at her. This time, he kept his hands to himself.

Art was a powder keg. She glanced at Tom before she turned to leave. The kid was pale. She definitely needed to talk to him again, alone.

She opened the door. Art’s eyes filled with hate and fear. A big temper problem. Known as a prankster. Maybe he took out his anger through cruel jokes.

Maybe one of his pranks turned deadly. She mulled that idea over in her head. Something to dig into, and Jess Sanchez was the best resource.

She left the dorm with the intention of hunting down Jess and pushing her about her past relationship with Art and asking her about the types of pranks he played—the ones that went beyond writing on his drunk friends. But as soon as she left the dorm room, she was confronted by two campus security officers.

“Ma’am, visitors need to check in with the administration.”

She showed them her visitor’s pass. “Were either of you on duty the weekend that Scott Sheldon disappeared?”

“You’ll have to speak to the chancellor, ma’am.”

“I should instead speak with your security chief.”

“I’m sorry, we’re not authorized to talk with the press. All press inquiries must go through the communications director.” He paused. “But you know that.”

“I do. I spoke to her earlier and she helped me get this visitor’s pass.” Which was true. Adair did direct her to the appropriate office to obtain it. “Thank you for your help.”

She turned to head to the bookstore, hoping that the staff there would point her to Jess Sanchez’s dorm. The taller officer said, “Ma’am, we’ve had a complaint that you were harassing three of our students. Your visitor’s pass has been canceled, and we need to ask you to leave. If you would like to return, you’ll need to check in with the administration.”

She considered her options. She really wanted to talk to Jess, but she also wanted to investigate the picture she’d downloaded. She didn’t want Art to figure out that she’d spoken to Jess, either. He might scare her into being silent. She seemed like a tough girl, but under the surface had been skittish. And fearful of Art.

“I’m leaving,” she told the security officers. They escorted her to her car. She turned and thanked them. “You can tell your boss I’ll be back with more questions.”

She got into her car and saw the campus cops standing in the rain, watching her drive off.

Her phone rang. She’d forgotten to set up the Bluetooth in the rental, so pulled over to the side, right by the main entrance to the campus. She answered the unfamiliar number.

“Ms. Revere? This is Chuck Pence from the park service. I head up search and rescue. I got your message.”