Bitter Past Read online

  “Will Dr. Cooper ever be allowed to come back to teach? He’s one of my favorite professors,” she said.

  With the backlash Cooper had been enduring lately, both from the protests against the body farm and the accusations in the Ashmore Voice, I hadn’t considered the students who were still on his side. They had to be devastated by the news of his arrest.

  “Well, you all know that an arrest neither proves guilt nor equals a conviction. And it doesn’t mean that there will even be charges filed in the first place. He could be exonerated and everything could go back to the way it was.” Except that he’d never trust me again after the stunt I pulled on him this morning.

  A few of the students frowned. One girl said, “Vasti and Eli are still dead, so nothing can go back to the way it was.”

  I felt like I was in danger of being led into a trap. “I meant back to the way it was with Dr. Cooper’s job, nothing more. Please don’t read anything into my answers.”

  With tears in her eyes, another student said, “How can you be so dispassionate about everything that’s gone on? You found Vasti’s body, and one of your fellow professors did it. How are you not a basket case right now?” Several of her friends murmured in agreement.

  I’d had enough. “Let’s get something straight—all of you,” I snapped. “Until Dr. Cooper is tried and convicted in a court of law, he is innocent. Get that through your heads. As criminalists, you can never lay blame. It’s not your job, and if you show any bias whatsoever, your evidence could be deemed inadmissible. You can have a mountain of rock-solid evidence against someone, or you can even watch someone commit a crime right in front of you, and they’re still innocent until proven guilty. That’s the law. If you can’t deal with that part of the job—then get the hell out of forensics.”

  My students’ eyes widened in shock, but I wasn’t done.

  “As for my supposed reaction to the events of this week—you don’t know me. You’ve only dealt with me during class, where I have to put everything aside so I can do my job. When you’re an adult, that’s what you do. Some free advice—toughen the hell up. If you can’t control your emotions, you’ll never keep a job of any kind in forensics. And these four years of your life will have been a total waste.”

  The room was silent, and everyone’s hands were down.

  I walked around to the other side of the desk and opened my teacher’s manual. “Our Q and A session is over. We’re going to continue our discussion on handwriting analysis. Anyone who feels too emotional to participate—you know where the door is.”

  ***

  After the cathartic reprimand I delivered to my unsuspecting class and the full hour’s worth of I sleep I got during my lunch break, I was feeling well enough that I taught my third class of the day with no issues. My students actually listened to and participated in my handwriting analysis lesson and didn’t ask any off-topic questions. I had to wonder if word had got around not to mess with me today. When I was finished, I headed for my office, where Baxter was waiting as promised.

  “You look like I feel,” he said, chuckling.

  Dropping a stack of books and papers on my desk, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I wish people would quit telling me how shitty I look today.” I was going to have to do a major makeover on myself so I didn’t look like a complete troll for my date tonight.

  He sobered. “I’m sorry. I work with guys all day. I forget you’re a girl.”

  “Baxter…” I sighed. “I can’t even…” I shook my head. “Just shut up.”

  “Right. So I talked to Dr. Alessi a few minutes ago. You were right—something is off with her, but I don’t know that it has anything to do with the case. I think she’s just regular crazy.” He smiled. “She has some serious hate for you, though.”

  I still felt like she was hiding something, so I wasn’t ready to cross her off my list yet. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Tad Ogelsby, Eli Vanover’s roommate, has disappeared.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  My jaw dropped. “What? Is he…?”

  “Dead? I don’t think so. I think he bolted. According to his RA, Ogelsby left late last night with a couple of bags. He has a vehicle registered on campus, which seems to be gone as well. It’s not in any of the campus parking lots.”

  “That makes him look kind of guilty, don’t you think?”

  Baxter nodded. “That’s why we’re going to his dorm room to have a look around.” He gestured to the big silver case and a black camera bag at his feet. “I brought everything you need.”

  I scrunched up my face. “Nick, I’m too tired to work another scene,” I complained. “I’m sure to miss something important.”

  “I brought it just in case. Unless there’s some sign of struggle, which I doubt, you may not even need it. I’m hoping to find some clue as to where he went, because we’ve tried all of his and his parents’ contact numbers and received no response. I’m assuming his folks are hiding him. I want to know why.” He picked up the case from the floor and shouldered the bulky camera bag. “Ready to go? I’ll even carry your stuff for you.”

  “What a gentleman.”

  We headed outside into the afternoon sunlight. It had become muggy today—part of one last heat wave before it started cooling off for fall. Tad’s dorm, Harris Hall (named after Tyler’s family), was all the way across campus, so we had to hoof it a few blocks.

  I felt Baxter staring at me, so I asked, “What?”

  “I’ve been putting off telling you this…because I’m not sure how you’re going to take it,” he replied, seeming tense.

  “I don’t know how my day could get much worse. Out with it.”

  “Dudley Cooper wants to see you.”

  I blew out a breath.

  “I told him no. It would cause all kinds of trouble if your name ended up on his visitor log.”

  Nodding, I said quietly, “I know.” Regardless of what was proper, I felt like I’d abandoned Cooper and even turned on him when he needed me the most. Hating the fact that he was stuck in jail thanks to me, I changed the subject. “I forgot to ask—what about the murder weapon? Did Beck find any evidence on the jump rope?”

  Baxter shook his head. “Only some partial fingerprints belonging to Vanover and Sellers, and they were smudged. If the killer touched it, he was wearing gloves.”

  “That’s not helpful. How about Eli’s clothes? Was there any cross-transfer on them?”

  “There were some black cotton fibers, but you know you can’t determine the source of cotton. It’s too common. There was some blood, but it could be Vanover’s or more of what was under his fingernails. So there was evidence, but it’s likely a duplication of what we already had.”

  “Again, useless.”

  Smiling, he said, “Don’t get discouraged. Solving cases wouldn’t be nearly as fun if everything fell right into place.”

  We arrived at Harris Hall, happy to be out of the heat and humidity. After Baxter flashed his badge and his search warrant at the front desk, the dorm director showed us to Tad and Eli’s room and let us in.

  Baxter closed the door behind us and let out a low whistle. “Someone sure was in a hurry to get the hell out of town.”

  One side of the room looked like a bomb had gone off. Drawers were open and clothes were strewn everywhere. The other side of the room was neat enough for a boy’s dorm room, probably because most of the items from the desk and dresser were missing. Eli seemed to have moved his essentials to Tristan’s apartment but had left the bulk of his possessions behind, presumably intending to return to his dorm once the air had cleared between him and Tad.

  I got the same overwhelmed feeling I’d had at Tristan’s pigsty of an apartment. The aroma of the room didn’t help, either. It smelled like dirty gym socks and moldy pizza. “Where do we even start? I don’t think we’re going to find anything in this mess.”

  Baxter got out the camera and handed it to me. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of gr
ouchy when you’re tired?”

  I frowned at him and took the camera. As I always did, I started snapping wide-angle shots of the entire room, slowly making my way around and taking mid-range shots as well. There was nothing that seemed out of place or unusual to me, so I didn’t mark anything as evidence or bother with close-ups. Baxter already had his gloves on and was pawing through Tad’s drawers. I stopped taking photos of the room, thinking this search was a waste of time. However, since I was here, I decided to check Tad’s shoe size for comparison purposes to the prints we’d found at the crime scene. He had an alibi for the time of Eli’s murder, but in light of him skipping town, I felt it best to gather some extra information. I made a note that he wore a size eleven.

  I said, “If this kid packed a couple of bags and drove away in a panic, I’m thinking he didn’t leave a detailed itinerary of his trip.”

  “I’m aware of that, and I’m not looking for an itinerary. I have a feeling that we’re missing something about this kid.”

  Not wanting to discount one of Baxter’s hunches, I got to work looking through Tad’s desk. It was filled with normal desk stuff—pens, pencils, paper, highlighters, sticky notes, et cetera. There was a printer on the desk, but no laptop, which wasn’t surprising. I also found several photos of Tad cozied up to a girl—Maddie from one of my Intro to Forensics classes.

  Holding one of them up for Baxter to see, I said, “Looks like Tad may have a girlfriend. She’s in one of my classes. Maddie Haynes.”

  Baxter made a note. “I’ll have a chat with her. Surely the guy told his girlfriend where he was headed.”

  “His books seem to be missing. Maybe he went on a study retreat,” I mused.

  “I don’t think it would be smart to skip class for a study retreat. Wouldn’t that be counter-productive?”

  “Probably.”

  “Hey, I found his secret stash,” Baxter said, holding up a box he had retrieved from under the bed. “He’s got all kinds of fun stuff—Adderall, vodka, condoms, porn, weed.”

  I snapped a picture of the contents of the box. “I thought boys used the Internet for porn these days.”

  He shrugged. “Not always.”

  I couldn’t resist. “Where do you get your porn, Detective?”

  Baxter ignored my comment, other than turning bright red. Holding up the bag of weed, he said, “The good news is I’ve got him on constructive possession. I’ll reel him in with that and then make him talk.”

  “If you can find him.”

  “Oh, I’ll find him,” he replied.

  “Since we’re in here, do we have clearance to go through Eli’s stuff?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  I began snapping photos of Eli’s side of the room. His cell, backpack, laptop, and books were missing from here as well, which meant someone else had to have them. Since the items were nowhere to be found, I had to wonder if something on his laptop could be the key to finding out who his killer was. It stood to reason that he wrote some of his news articles on it rather than trekking all the way over to the Ashmore Voice office every time he wanted to do some work. He may even have been downloading his vlog videos onto his laptop as well. We needed to see what was on it, but if the killer had it, we were screwed.

  Baxter finished with Tad’s side of the room and started going through Eli’s desk. I went through his closet, which seemed to be about a quarter empty. His drawers were a mess, but there was nothing except clothes, socks, and underwear in them. I looked under his bed, but there were only a few stray socks and one shoe under there.

  Frowning, I stood up. “Either this kid is a virginal teetotaler, or something’s missing. I didn’t find any contraband of any kind. Every college kid I’ve ever known has had something to hide from the RA.”

  “He probably took it with him to Sellers’s apartment.”

  “We didn’t find any of that kind of stuff there.”

  “Right, but we didn’t go through every inch of the apartment, either. We were only focused on the crime scene, not on delving into someone’s personal life. Besides, I don’t think Vanover’s contraband collection is going to give us any clues about his murder.”

  “True...but if he was into something shady or was hiding something, like information that could ruin someone’s life, it might be in his stash.” I had an idea. “Hang on.” Taking out my phone, I called my sister.

  “Hello?” she answered, sounding frazzled. I could hear Nate yelling in the background.

  “Hey, Rach. What’s going on with Nate?” I asked.

  She growled. “He’s throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t want to take a nap. I have an exam tomorrow and need some d-a-m-n peace and quiet, so this has to happen. Can I call you back?”

  I sighed. Normally when Rachel needed peace and quiet, I would take Nate and go to the park or nap with him so he would stay in bed. I was only twenty-four hours into this ordeal, and everything in my life was already suffering—my teaching job, my family, my dating life, and my overall health. These extra hours I was working had me stretched too thin.

  “Let me talk to him,” I said.

  “I’ll try anything.”

  My nephew came on the phone, sniffling and hiccupping. “Hello? Auntie Ellie?”

  “Hi, sweet boy. I hear you don’t want to take a nap for Mommy.”

  “Mommy yelled at me,” he grumbled. I could imagine him giving Rachel the stink eye as we spoke, arms crossed and lower lip jutted out.

  “I think I heard you yelling at Mommy, too. Were you yelling, buddy?”

  He paused, and then said in a small voice, “Yes. A little.”

  “I’ll tell you what—if you tell Mommy you’re sorry and take a good nap for her, I’ll bring you one of my special candies from school. You can have it tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

  Gasping, he said, “Really? Okay, Auntie Ellie!”

  Rachel came back on. “I don’t know what you said, but he’s on his way to his room right now. Thanks. Hey, I heard Dr. Cooper was arrested this morning. Are you doing okay with all that?” I could hear the concern in her voice.

  “Not really. I’m trying not to think about it.”

  “You know I’m here if you need me.”

  Even though she was ten years younger than I was, Rachel was a wonderful sister and a great friend. But for the next couple of days, I wouldn’t have the time to sit down and talk to her about my feelings. Plus, if I started thinking about Cooper rotting in a jail cell (thanks to me), I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on what I needed to get done.

  “Actually, I do need you. I need some gossip.”

  “You called me for gossip? Now I know there’s something wrong with you.”

  I replied, “Yeah, yeah. I need to know the dirt on Eli Vanover. What was he into? Anything shady?” Rachel had worked at the Ashmore Voice for a semester her freshman year and hated it. She knew Eli from back then, and she hadn’t cared for him.

  “You mean besides filming people when they’re not looking?” she snapped.

  I winced. “I take it you got caught with your pants down?” That last statement earned me a questioning eyebrow from Baxter.

  “No, nothing like that. I was bitching about Dr. Halloran ripping my last research paper to shreds. Eli caught it, and Dr. Halloran saw it online. He was none too pleased.”

  “Oh, well. It’s not like he can do anything to you for expressing your opinion. Halloran’s a dick, anyway. Everyone thinks so. If he bothers you again, make fun of his comb-over. It makes him cry.”

  She laughed. “And that is why I love you. You always give such grown-up advice.”

  “I try. So, is there any more dirt on Eli? Was he into drugs? Prostitutes? Gerbils? Anything I can use?” I got another look from Baxter.

  “The gerbil thing wouldn’t surprise me,” she mused. “I do know that he was always trying to push Adderall on the staff at the Voice so they’d get their articles done faster. He always had a ton of it in his desk. He tried to get me to ta
ke it once, but I grossed him out by explaining how it would get into my breast milk and hurt Nate. He never offered it to me again. That’s all I know, other than the fact that he was a total asshole.”

  “Maybe they shouldn’t let you give the eulogy at his funeral.”

  “Yeah, probably not.”

  “I’ll let you get to studying. I don’t know when I’ll be home tonight. Don’t wait up.”

  “Ooh, is your sexy rent-a-cop going to keep you out late?” Lovely as she was, my sister never passed up a chance to needle me about my love life.

  “I told you—Rob owns his own security firm. He’s not a rent-a-cop. Well, maybe he kind of is, but not in a lame way,” I said defensively. “I meant I might be working late.”

  “Do you think your rent-a-cop will try to show you his taser tonight? Or maybe he’ll try to cuff you. Wait, they don’t let rent-a-cops have cuffs, do they?”

  I’d had enough. “I hope Nate wakes up and ruins your study time.”

  “Wow. Bitchy much?”

  “Love you, too.” I hung up, turning around to find Baxter trying to keep a straight face as he dug through an overflowing trash can.

  “Tell me that wasn’t your idea of detective work.”

  “It’s a hell of a lot better than being elbow deep in someone’s underwear drawer. I was talking to my sister. She knew Eli, and she told me something we might be able to use.”

  “If you start talking about gerbils, I’m out.”

  “Ha, ha. He was the Ashmore Voice’s main supplier of Adderall. According to Rachel, he kept it in his desk at the paper.”

  He shrugged. “If he was getting the meds from a street dealer instead of a friend with a script, that could be a decent explanation for his murder. We’ll go through his desk when we go to the newspaper office. I think we’re pretty well done here.”

  “Good,” I said, stripping off my gloves. “Going through a boy’s dorm room is no better than sifting through a dumpster.”

  “I thought crime scene investigators loved dumpster diving.”

  “Is that why you detectives always try to push it off on us?”