Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville) (14 page)

“Not so far. But he’s gonna be good at hiding. He’s been doing it for five years.”

“What’s the allure of bookish, quiet girls?”

“Who knows? Guys like that have all kinds of dark quirks that drive them. The girls might have reminded him of a sister or cousin or a girl who was mean to him. Maybe she was smarter and made him feel stupid. We won’t know until we find him.”

He leaned back in his seat and shook his head. “We need to talk to Amber Ryder again. This guy must have known her and the others.”

“In the case files, the cops made mention of Tim Taylor. He was Mike’s best friend. Have you talked to him yet?”

“He’s first on the list in the morning.”

She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I want to be with you when you talk to Tim and Amber.”

He shook his head. “I don’t hover over your shoulder when you’re collecting evidence, and you can’t tag along with me.”

“I want to.”

He slowly shook his head. “Who said you’re entitled to everything you want?”

“Not everything, just this.”

“No.”

Her frown deepening, she stared out the window onto the street. Outside a soft rain began to fall. “Very irritating, Bishop. You’re disappointing me.”

He smiled. “Why is this case so important to you? I know you aren’t afraid of Dalton Marlowe.”

“All my cases are important.”

“But . . .”

For a moment she didn’t speak as she considered a lie and then rejected it. “Three kids went into the woods. Lives were lost, families tortured. Someone can’t just destroy lives and get away with it.”

“All the more reason for you to stick to the science.”

She leaned forward, her gaze sparking with challenge. “But you’re biased against Amber. I see it.”

He scratched the underside of his chin. “You think you know me that well?”

Challenge weaved around the words. “I know you well enough.”

“No, baby, you haven’t scratched the surface.”

“That’s hardly true.”

A smile quirked the edges of his lips but he dropped his voice a notch. “You know me at work.” He paused. “But you don’t know me.”

 

J
ake pushed through the door to the science department at Vanderbilt, and with Elisa Spence’s advisor’s name in hand, headed to the second floor and found room 122. A knock on the door earned him a brusque “Enter.”

He rolled his head from side to side, wondering if Georgia had slept as poorly as he had last night. She went home after they left the diner, but he returned to work to review surveillance tapes from several of the shops around Blue Note Java. So far, no sign of Elisa or her new guy.

Dinner last night was nice. First time they had shared anything real. Whether it would last or she’d retreat back into her shell was anybody’s guess. What was it with his attraction to Georgia? He could have anyone he wanted and he wanted the one ready to bust his balls all the time.

Jake found a lean, gray-haired man leaning over a desk piled high with papers, books, and journals. Light sneaked around a tall window behind him, catching countless dust particles in dozens of thin beams. The walls were lined with bookshelves crammed as full as the desk in front of him. The room smelled of Ben Gay.

“Professor Robbins?”

The man nodded but didn’t glance up as squinting eyes continued to stare at his research papers covered with cracker crumbs and coffee stains.

“I’m Detective Jake Bishop. I’m here to talk to you about Elisa Spence.”

The downcast gray head shook. “I haven’t seen Elisa in a few days. I can’t help you.”

News of her murder would have spread by now, if not from her roommate, then from the girl in the coffee shop. He waited until the professor looked up. “Did you know Elisa was dead?”

“What?” His head shook as he pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean, dead?!”

“Really? You haven’t heard?”

He raised his head, returned to his nose the thick glasses that magnified dark eyes. “No, I haven’t heard. I’ve been working.”

“No one has called you?”

“I’ve been working from home for a few days. People call and text me all the time, but I rarely answer. I don’t have time for calls.” He laid a wrinkled, arthritic hand on the desk as he rose up on unsteady legs.

Rick noticed the cane to the man’s right. “She was killed. We think over the weekend.”

“My God.” The words rushed out breathlessly. “How?”

Jake ignored the question. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Last Thursday.”

“Did you notice anything different about her?”

“She was distracted. She wasn’t concentrating on her work. Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake?”

“Very. Why was she distracted?”

“I can’t say. But I can tell you she was acting like a silly girl. Very unlike her. She’s very sensible. That’s what I always appreciated about Elisa. She was no-nonsense. She did her work. And on Thursday in walked a flighty girl. I knew she had met a boy. It’s always a boy.”

“Did she say anything about this boy?”

“Not to me, but I heard her in the hallway talking to someone on her phone.” He shook his head and his gaze drifted as if his thoughts had been tugged away.

“Professor, did you hear what she was saying to this person while she was on the phone?”

Professor Robbins blinked and met Jake’s gaze. “She was talking about playing a game. She said she wasn’t any good at games but that she would try.”

“What kind of game?”

“I don’t know. A lot of the kids in this department are big gamers.” He frowned. “But I don’t think it was that kind of game. Her voice got soft and low, but I think it had to do with sex.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Elisa is, was a smart woman. She works hard and most boys her age don’t appreciate that. One finally looks at her and it’s inevitable that she would be flattered. I told her to be careful before and she would always laugh and tell me not to worry. But I knew it was a matter of time. She is—was too trusting.”

Copies of her cell phone records should be on Jake’s desk later today. “That’s the last time you saw her?”

Old eyes narrowed. “They were going to meet, but I don’t know where.”

“Percy Warner Park?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she mention a name?”

“If she did, I didn’t catch it.” Heavy gray brows slumped.

“There’s nothing else you can remember?”

“No. No. I’m sorry.”

Frustrations like this were part of the process. Most interviews gave him bits and pieces of the truth that he had to string together like beads on a necklace. He dug his card from his breast pocket and handed it to the old man. “Thank you.”

The old man studied the card. “You never told me how she died.”

“She was strangled.”

His face creased. “Who would do such a thing?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Her parents travel a great deal. They like to go off the grid in the wilderness. They’re often gone for weeks at a time.”

“We’ve spoken to them.”

He moved out from behind his desk and motioned for Jake to follow. The old man walked down the hallway, his posture bent but his gaze burning with purpose. He stopped at an office door at the end of the hallway and opened the door without knocking. A young man glanced up from a computer screen, his look of annoyance fading with he saw Dr. Robbins. “Yes, sir.”

Faded jeans hugged a lean waist and long legs. A Titans T-shirt stretched tightly across his chest. Dark hair skimmed wide shoulders. He was a good-looking guy, much like the man described by the clerk at Blue Note Java.

“This is Detective Jake Bishop. Detective, this is Ray Downs. He’s my teaching assistant. He and Elisa were good friends.” The old man glanced at the younger. “Elisa Spence was killed this past weekend.”

Ray shifted his stance and moved out from behind his desk. “I heard this morning. I was camping for a couple of days and was out of touch with the news until a few hours ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you arrived this morning?” Dr. Robbins demanded.

“You had a Do-Not-Disturb on your door, sir. The last time I knocked when the sign was up you threatened to fire me.”

The old man rested a gnarled fist on his hip. “Not for news like this.”

The young man’s face flushed with frustration. “I knew you’d be out sooner than later. I was planning to tell you.”

Dr. Robbins waved a wrinkled, bent hand in the air as if shooing his words like a pesky fly. “Tell the detective all you know about Elisa.”

The younger man slid a hand into his pocket, his gaze flickering between Jake and the floor. “She was nice. A sweet girl. Always wanted others to be happy. I hear she was strangled. Is that true?”

“Yes.” Jake flipped to a new page in his notebook. After gathering Ray’s contact information, he asked, “Was she dating anyone?”

“No. Elisa was all about her work. She was putting the finishing touches on her senior thesis.”

Dr. Robbins shook his head. “I heard her talking to someone on the phone. Her voice sounded all girlie and soft. Who was that? You seem to know everything that goes on here.”

Ray shifted his stance. “She wasn’t dating anyone, but she did meet a guy a week or two ago that she said was hot. I thought she was making it up. I couldn’t see her with a hot guy.” He glanced at the professor to gauge his reaction. “She was hoping to hook up with him.”

The professor shook his head, regret chasing his words as he whispered, “Such a foolish girl.”

“What do you know about the guy?” Jake asked.

“From what she said, he just arrived in town. Said he wanted to make music.” Ray shook his head. “Everyone wants to make music in this town, and I laughed when she told me. I half expected her to laugh with me but she didn’t. She said he was really talented. She heard him sing and play the guitar.”

“Where was this?” Jake asked.

“She met him at the café, but went to hear him sing on Broadway. You know how singers just find a spot and start singing for tips. That’s what this guy was doing. Playing for tips when she met him. She thought he was amazing.”

“Do you know anything else about this guy?” Jake pressed.

“I snapped a photo of the two of them when I was at the coffee shop.” He reached in his back pocket and fished out his phone. Scrolling through several pictures, he handed the phone to Jake. “She asked me to because she was kinda proud of his attention.”

The image featured a smiling young girl standing next to a tall guy with long dark hair. A black beard covered the lower half of his face and dark sunglasses shielded his eyes. He wore a plain dark T-shirt and his left ear was pierced at least twice.

“Can you send me this photo?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ray took the phone and as Jake rattled off his phone number, the younger man typed the numbers into his phone. A whooshing sound rushed between them as Ray tucked the phone in his back pocket.

“This guy got a name?” Jake asked as he checked his phone for the image.

“Scott. But I didn’t catch a last name. I can tell you I didn’t like the guy. He was nice to Elisa, but she was also paying his tab at the coffee shop. She had a big heart, and he picked right up on it. Did he kill her?”

“We don’t know. I’m chasing as many leads as I can.”

“What about DNA and stuff? Don’t you have DNA? I thought that kind of thing caught bad guys.”

“Not quite the magic bullet everyone thinks it is.”

“I thought when you had a match that was it.”

“Some tests are dead-on matches but enough results land in the gray zone between yes and no. We’ve processed the scene, but it will take time to get the DNA back.”

“What about fingerprints?” Professor Robbins asked.

“We’re analyzing everything as we get it.”

“Shit,” Ray said. “I thought you guys had all this equipment to catch the bad guys. What the hell?”

Jake smiled, unwilling to explain that interviews cracked cases faster than forensic testing. “We’re working on it. Do you know if this guy was staying around here?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping to catch up with Elisa today and ask her. I looked for her this morning and then heard the news.”

Professor Robbins raised a hand. “She had a small cubby space if you’d like to look at it.”

“I would.”

“Ray, show him to the study cubbies.”

“Sure, professor.”

Jake and Ray left Professor Robbins standing in the hallway staring after them as they made their way to the elevators. Ray punched the bottom floor button and soon the two were in a windowless section of the building. Crowded in the corner was a collection of cubbies. Ray took him to Elisa’s space.

Books neatly stacked lined the back of the cubicle. There were pictures of a smiling Elisa with her roommate as well as two older people whom he recognized as her parents. In one image, grand mountains reached up to a dark cloudy sky. Also on the table were neatly sharpened pencils, a pack of gum, a clean red coffee cup, and a pack of matches and notepad both from the Palmer Motel.

“Did she smoke?” Jake asked. Dr. Heller had said her lungs were clean.

“No.”

Jake flipped open the matches. The inside flap was blank with some missing matches. But on the notepad he noticed indentation from writing made on the previous page now missing. He picked up one of the pencils and shadowed over the blank page of the notepad. The pencil darkened the page while highlighting words indented from the last page. The name Scott, circled several times, appeared along with “Palmer Motel.”

“Damn,” Ray said.

“Not high-tech forensic work, but effective. She say anything else about this guy?”

The kid glanced back to make sure Dr. Robbins wasn’t close. “She said the guy was into kinky stuff.”

“Kinky stuff?”

“They’d not tried anything yet, but she said it all sounded exciting. I’ve never seen her so giddy.”

“What did he suggest they do?”

“He was into strangulation.”

“And you didn’t think to call the cops about that?”

His gaze dropped before meeting his again. “I thought about it. Wanted to, but just wasn’t sure how to go about it.”

Jake allowed the flash of anger to chill before he held up his phone. “Not only takes pictures but it makes phone calls.”

* * *

The sun had burned off the morning chill when Jake arrived at the Palmer Motel. It was a seedy one-story motel with two dozen rooms strung together like a collection of little boxes. He parked in front of the office, which wasn’t more than a cinderblock box outfitted with a counter and a cigarette and soda machines. The young guy standing behind the counter was of medium build with short dark hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. His shirt was clean and starched and his jeans looked new.

Before Jake could pull his badge, the counter guy asked, “Cop, right?”

Jake nodded. “That’s right. And you are?”

“Barry McGraw. Day manager. I’m in school and working here lets me study while I get paid. Not much happens. Mostly, I make sure no one rips off cigarettes or sodas.”

Jake fished the matches out of his pocket. “Barry, I found these matches at a crime scene. Trying to link them to a suspect.”

Barry’s eyes widened. “Sure. Who are you looking for?”

He unfolded the sketch Jenna had drawn. “Seen this guy around?”

“Sure. That’s Scott Murphy. Room 18.”

“He’s there now?”

“I haven’t seen him since I started my shift a few hours ago. But I can open his room for you if you like. Boss always said if the cops show, give ’em what they want.”

“Let’s have a look.”

Key in hand, Barry led Jake to the room, but as he readied to knock, Jake shook his head. “Give me the key. You step back.”