The Will Trent Series 5-Book Bundle Read online

  God, she did not want to do that.

  “Who are you?”

  Same accusatory tone, different boy. This one stood in the doorway, a hard look on his face. Faith turned toward him, giving him the full benefit of her gun and badge, but his expression did not change.

  She asked, “What’s your name?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “That’s a really long name. Were you adopted?”

  Obviously, the joke fell flat. “Do you have a warrant?” He rested his left hand on the doorknob. The other one was covered in a cast that stopped just below his elbow. “Does campus security know you broke into his room?”

  Strange way to put it, she thought, but told the kid, “I had a key.”

  “Good for you.” He crossed his arms as best he could with the cast. “Now show me a warrant or get the fuck out of my friend’s room.”

  She made herself laugh because she knew it would irritate him. He was a good-looking kid—dark hair, brown eyes, well built and obviously used to getting his way. “Or what?”

  Apparently, he hadn’t thought that far in advance. His voice wasn’t so sure when he said, “I’ll call campus security.”

  “Use the phone in a different room,” Faith told him, turning back to the desk. She used the pencil to push through some of the papers, which were filled with mathematical equations and notes from class. She could feel the kid staring at her. Faith persevered. This wasn’t exactly the first time she’d had an eighteen-year-old stare at her with burning daggers of hate.

  “This is so wrong,” he said, more for attention than effect.

  Faith sighed, as if she was annoyed that he was still there. “Listen, this isn’t about the pot, or the porn or the illegal downloads or whatever else you guys have been up to, so get your head out of your ass, understand that your friend must be in serious trouble if an Atlanta police detective is going through his things and tell me what your name is.”

  He was quiet, and she felt like she could hear his brain working as he tried to think of a way around answering her question. Finally he relented. “Gabriel Cohen.”

  “You go by Gabe?”

  He shrugged.

  “When was the last time you saw Adam?”

  “This morning.”

  “In the hall? At class?”

  “Here, maybe eight o’clock this morning.” Again, he shrugged. “Tommy, my roommate, he snores. He’s kind of an asshole. So I’ve been sleeping over here to get away from him.” His eyes widened, and he seemed to realize that he’d put himself right in the middle of things.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “I told you, Gabe, I’m not here because of two ounces of weed and a bootleg of The Bourne Ultimatum.”

  He chewed his lip, staring at her, probably trying to figure out whether or not he could trust her.

  For her part, Faith was wondering what was taking Will Trent so long. Though she wasn’t sure if his presence would help or hinder the situation.

  She asked, “How long have you known Adam?”

  “About a week, I guess. I met him on move-in day.”

  “You seemed pretty eager to take up for him.”

  She was getting better at reading his shrugs. His main concern had been the illegal bounty—probably the downloads more than the drugs, considering that ripping off movie studios carried a much stiffer penalty.

  Faith asked, “Does Adam have a car?”

  He shook his head. “His family’s pretty weird. They kind of live off the grid. Real eco-minded.”

  That would explain the rural route. “What about this?” She pointed to the expensive television, the game console.

  “They’re mine,” Gabe admitted. “I didn’t want Tommy, my dormmate, fucking with them.” He added, “But Adam plays, too. I mean, he likes to be outside and all, but he’s a gamer, too.”

  “Does he have a computer?”

  “Somebody swiped it,” he responded, and Faith wasn’t as surprised as she should have been. Theft was a rampant problem with this generation. Jeremy had had so many scientific calculators stolen from him at school that she had threatened to bolt one to his hand.

  She asked, “Where does Adam check his e-mail?”

  “I let him use mine. Sometimes he goes to the computer lab.”

  “What’s his major?”

  “Same as me. Polymers with a focus on spray adhesives.”

  That must have impressed the ladies. “Does he have a girlfriend or anyone he hangs out with?”

  Gabe’s shoulder went up in a slightly defensive manner. “We all just got here, you know? Not much time to hook up.”

  “Are you from out of state?”

  He shook his head. “I went to Grady.”

  Grady was a magnet school, which meant they drew the top students from other schools in the Atlanta system. “Have you ever met Kayla Alexander or Emma Campano?”

  “Are they at Grady?”

  “Westfield.”

  He shook his head. “That’s in Decatur, right? I think my girlfriend went there. Julie. She’s been kicked out of a lot of schools.”

  “Why is that?”

  He gave a shy half-smile. “We share a distrust for authority.”

  Faith smiled back. “Does Julie go to Tech?”

  He shook his head again. “She went to State a few quarters, then dropped that, too. She tends bar nights in Buckhead.”

  Buckhead was a wealthy section of Atlanta known for its nightlife. Faith gathered Julie was at least twenty-one if she was allowed to serve alcohol. The four-year age difference between her and Emma Campano would have meant the girls would not likely have crossed paths.

  Faith asked Gabe, “How’d you hurt your wrist?”

  He colored slightly. “Stupid stuff. I slipped and fell on my hand.”

  “That must’ve hurt.”

  He held up the cast, as if he still couldn’t believe he’d injured himself. “Like a mofo.”

  “Which bar does Julie work at?”

  He dropped his arm but his guard went back up. “Why?”

  Faith guessed he’d been cooperative enough to warrant an explanation. “Gabe, I need to tell you what happened to Adam today.”

  There was something like a loud “woof” echoing in the hallway. Gabe whispered, “Fuck.”

  Two seconds later, Faith met the reason behind the expletive.

  Gabe reluctantly made introductions. “This is Tommy Albertson, my dormmate.”

  He was as pasty as Gabe was dark, and Faith knew instantly that Gabe’s assessment had been right on the money: the kid was an asshole. As if to prove it, Tommy’s tongue practically hung out of his mouth as he stared at her. “Yowza. Me likes a woman with a gun.”

  Gabe hissed, “Shut up, man. Adam’s in trouble.”

  “I was about to tell Gabe …” Faith directed her words to the young man. “Adam was killed this morning.”

  “Killed?” Tommy rocked onto the balls of his feet as he pointed his fingers at Faith. “Shit, dude, it was him, right? They said it was a Tech student. Fuck me—that was Adam?”

  Gabe’s confusion was obvious. “He was killed? As in murdered?”

  Tommy became even more excited. “Dude, some crazy bitch strangled him to death. To death, man. With her bare hands. Seriously, it was all over the news. Where’ve you been all day, bro?”

  Gabe’s throat worked. His eyes moistened and his sense of betrayal was profound as he looked at Faith for confirmation. “Is it true?”

  She nodded her head once, furious that someone in the department had leaked out that Adam had gone to Tech. “It’s more complicated than that, but, yes, Adam is dead.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t really talk about details with you, Gabe. I can say that Adam acted heroically, that he was trying to help someone, and then things went very wrong. A girl was kidnapped, and we’re looking for her, but we need your help.”

  His lower lip quivered as he tried to control his emotion
s.

  By contrast, Tommy seemed almost exhilarated. “Are you here to question me?” he asked. “Bring it on. I’ve got all kinds of information.”

  Faith asked, “What kind of information?”

  “Well, nothing, like, concrete or anything. He was a quiet dude, but you know, there was that intensity underneath. Like … danger.”

  Faith struggled to remain passive, though she would have loved to take Tommy Albertson to the morgue and ask him what exactly was so exciting about his friend being dead. “Did Adam have a girlfriend? Did he hang around with anyone in particular?”

  As with everything else, Tommy found this extremely entertaining. He clamped his hands on Gabe’s shoulders. “Two questions, one answer!”

  Gabe squirmed away from him. “Fuck off, asshole. You never even talked to Adam. He hated your guts.”

  She tried, “Gabe—”

  “Fuck you, too.” He left the room. A few moments later, she heard a door slam.

  Faith narrowed her eyes at Tommy, resisting the urge to tear him down to size. He’d stepped a few feet into the room, and she didn’t like the way he was crowding her space. She knew that she would need to establish control or there would be a problem. “Maybe you’d like to answer these questions at the station?”

  He showed a toothy grin, coming closer. “My dad’s a lawyer, lady. Unless it gets you wet slapping the cuffs on a virile young stud such as myself, no way am I getting into the back of your car.”

  Faith kept her tone even. “Then I guess we have nothing to talk about.”

  He smiled smugly, closing the space between them. “Guess so.”

  “Could you leave now?” When he didn’t move, she shouldered him back into the hall. He was taken off guard, or maybe she was madder than she thought, but the push turned into more of a shove, and he landed flat on his ass.

  “Jesus,” he whined, sitting up. “What is wrong with you?”

  She turned the thumb latch on the inside doorknob and pulled the door firmly closed. “Your friend is dead, a girl is missing, and your reaction to all this is to laugh and make jokes about it. What do you think is wrong with me?”

  Her words hit their mark, but they didn’t have the desired effect. “Why are you such a bitch?”

  “Because I have to deal with assholes like you every day.”

  “Is there a problem here?” A well-dressed Hispanic man was coming up the stairs. He sounded slightly out of breath and a bit concerned that a student was on the floor.

  Tommy scrambled to stand. He had the look of a spoiled child who was relishing the prospect of tattling. Faith dealt with it the only way she knew how, admitting, “He got aggressive and I pushed him out of my way.”

  The man had reached them by now. There was something familiar about his face, and Faith realized he was one of the many nameless administrators she’d seen at Jeremy’s freshman orientation the month before.

  There was no recognition in his eyes as Victor Martinez looked from Tommy to Faith, then back again. “Mr. Albertson, we have over eighteen thousand students enrolled in this school. It doesn’t bode well for you that we are barely out of our first week and I already know your name and student ID number by heart.”

  “I didn’t—”

  He turned his attention to Faith. “I’m Dean Martinez,” he said, offering his hand. “You’re here about Adam Humphries?”

  She shook his hand. “Humphrey,” she corrected.

  “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.” He kept ignoring Tommy, who muttered an insult under his breath before he skulked away. “Maybe you could walk with me? I’m sorry that it seems like I’m not giving this the attention I should, but the first week of school is grueling and I’m between meetings.”

  “Of course.” She caught the scent of his cologne as she followed him toward the stairs. Though it was late in the day, he was clean-shaven and his suit was still neatly pressed. Not counting Will Trent—and why would she?—it had been a long time since Faith had been around a man who paid attention to basic hygiene.

  “Here,” Victor said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. “This is the master key to his room, his class schedule and his contact details.” His hand brushed hers as he gave her the paper, and Faith was so surprised by the sensation it brought that she dropped the paper.

  “Whoops,” he said, kneeling down to retrieve it. The moment could have been awkward—Victor on one knee in front of her—but he managed to make it look graceful, scooping up the page and standing in one fluid motion.

  “Thank you,” Faith managed, trying not to sound as stupid as she felt.

  “I’m sorry it took so long to clear this through legal, but the university has to cover its ass.”

  She scanned the paper, a familiar-looking student application with all the pertinent information. “Your candor is refreshing.”

  He smiled, lightly holding the railing as they walked down the stairs. “Can you tell me a little bit about what’s going on? I’ve heard the news, of course. It’s extraordinary.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “I don’t know what they’re saying, but I really can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

  “I understand,” he responded. “The police department has an ass, too.”

  She laughed. “That could be taken two different ways, Dean Martinez.”

  He stopped on the next landing. “Victor, please.”

  She stopped, too. “Faith.”

  “I love the old-fashioned names,” he told her, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

  “I’m named after my grandmother.”

  “Beautiful,” he said, and she got the distinct impression he wasn’t commenting on the tradition of passing down family names. “Do you mind my asking why you look so familiar to me?”

  Despite the circumstances, there had definitely been some sort of flirting banter between them. Faith took a moment to mourn the loss of it before saying, “You probably saw me at freshman orientation. My son is a student here.”

  He did a terrific impression of a deer staring down an eighteen-wheeler. “Our youngest student is sixteen.”

  “My son is eighteen.”

  His throat moved as he swallowed, then came the forced chuckle. “Eighteen.”

  “Yep.” There was nothing to do with the awkward moment but talk over it. “Thank you for the key. I’ll make sure it’s returned to your office. I’m sure my boss will want to interview some of the students tonight. We’ll be as respectful as we can, but I would appreciate your informing campus security so we don’t have any problems. You might get some angry phone calls from parents. I’m sure you’re used to dealing with that.”

  “Certainly. I’ll be glad to run interference.” He started down the stairs. “I really must get to that meeting.”

  “One more thing?” Faith was only doing her job, but she had to admit it was somewhat rewarding seeing the fear in his eyes as he waited. “Can you tell me why Tommy Albertson is already on your radar?”

  “Oh.” The dean was obviously relieved it was that easy. “Towers and Glenn have a running rivalry. There are usually some good-natured pranks back and forth, but Mr. Albertson took it a bit far. They’re sketchy on the details, but knowing how these things work, I assume water balloons were involved. The floor was wet. People were injured. One boy had to be taken to the hospital.”

  That would explain the cast on Gabe’s arm.

  “Thank you.” Faith shook his hand again. This time, his eyes didn’t crinkle when he smiled, and he let her go down the stairs ahead of him. He seemed to hesitate when they got outside, but once he figured out she was going right, he took a quick left toward the back of the quad.

  Faith made her way toward her car, wondering what the hell had happened to Will Trent. She found him leaning over her Mini, his elbows resting on the roof. He had his head in his hands, the phone to his ear. His jacket was draped across the hood.

  As Faith drew closer, she could make out what he
was saying. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure someone is there to meet you at the airport tomorrow. Just call me back with your flight information.” He glanced up, and there was so much pain in his expression that she made herself look away. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do everything I can.”

  She heard the phone snap closed. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, the sheriff called back with a number for the Humphreys. I wanted to get that over with as soon as possible.” He cleared his throat. “They’re about six hours from a major airport. They’re going to drive down tonight and try to get the first flight out tomorrow morning, but it lays over in Salt Lake. Depending on whether or not they get routed through Dallas, it could take them anywhere from seven to twelve hours to get here.” He cleared his throat. “I told them to call the airline directly, explain their situation, and see what can be done.”

  Faith could not imagine what sitting in a car, waiting around at all those airports would feel like. Maddening, she guessed; the most painful day of any parent’s life. She chanced a look at Will. His usual passive expression had returned. “Did they have anything?”

  He shook his head. “Adam doesn’t have a car here. He’s been to Atlanta twice. The first time, he flew down with his father for orientation, stayed three days, then flew back. Both parents drove him down two weeks ago to help him settle into the dorm.”

  “From Oregon?” she asked, surprised. “How many days did that take?”

  “The mom said they took a week, but they stopped to see things along the way. Apparently, they’re into camping.”

  “That jibes with the outdoor magazines I found in his room,” Faith said, thinking she would just as soon slit her wrists as drive across America. Add Jeremy into the road trip, and they would be looking at a murder/suicide. “So, he’s been in Atlanta for fourteen days.”

  “Right,” Will said. “They’ve never heard of either Kayla Alexander or Emma Campano. As far as they know, Adam wasn’t seeing anyone. He had a girlfriend back home, but she moved to New York last year—she’s some kind of dancer. It was a mutual split and he’s dated off and on since then, but nothing serious. They have no idea why Emma’s picture was in his wallet.” He rubbed his jaw, his fingers finding the line of the scar. “The mother said that his laptop was stolen last week. They reported it to campus security, but she didn’t think it was taken seriously.”