Shadow of Vengeance (20 page)

Shit. Yeah, he could understand the guilt and why she might hold herself accountable for what had happened to her brother. Rachel had been known to hack into places thought impenetrable. Knowing her hunger for knowledge, he’d bet she had researched the hell out of Wexman University. Why didn’t these Hell Week disappearances pop up on her radar? He’d ask her later after they were through with the dean, which would hopefully be soon. Other than the alumnus who had donated the upgraded security equipment, the dean wasn’t giving them anything new.

“You said you’ve worked at the university for the past eighteen years,” Rachel began, her voice strong, the earlier emotional edge gone. “Is there anything you can add to help us find Josh Conway? Anything unusual that might have happened on or around the other disappearances?”

Xavier Preston leaned forward, set his elbow on the desk, then rested his chin in his palm. Seconds later he covered a yawn, then when finished said, “Didn’t the sheriff share this information with you?”

Rachel sent him a quick smile. “He certainly did, but thanks to his predecessor, there wasn’t much to share.”

Still appearing uninterested in the conversation, Preston leaned back in his chair. “He wasn’t a particularly good sheriff, or man for that matter. He tended to let incidents…slide. Wexman Hell Week wasn’t of particular interest to him.”

Rachel raised her auburn brows and half-smiled. “Given the little evidence we have prior to Sheriff Miller’s retirement, that doesn’t surprise me. Why do you think that was? I mean before Jake Tyler took over as sheriff, Miller had dealt with seven missing person cases. I would think this would hold top priority to him.”

“Yes, one would think. Unfortunately Tom enjoyed the title of sheriff and the power and respect that went with it, not the actual responsibility of being an agent of the law.” He checked his watch then said, “As for your initial question, I have never noticed anything unusual before, during or after the disappearances.”

“Weren’t the students nervous?” Owen asked. “With the university’s history, I’d think every male freshman preparing to join in on Hell Week would have taken extra precautions and made sure—”

“Have you spoken with students or the Bola
Townies
?” Preston asked, the last word said with a hint of loathing. “If you haven’t had the chance, you really must. I assure you that you’ll find their answers both ignorant and amusing.”

“How so?”

 
“I’m sure you’re aware of the ridiculous Bigfoot festival slated for this week. If you’re a believer, I apologize in advance for insulting you. Legends are unverified stories that are thought to be historical. Some people believe Bigfoot is no different than Wexman Hell Week.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Professor Stronach,” Rachel said with a shake of her head. “Thank you for speaking with us. We won’t take anymore of your—”

Dean Xavier Preston stood, pressed his fists against the desk and leaned forward. Although not overly tall, Preston’s build surprised Owen. With large shoulders, arms and chest, the dean looked as if he lifted weights on a regular basis. He also looked seriously pissed and offended. Gone was the dean’s earlier boredom. As he glared at Rachel, his face red and twisting in outrage, his lip rose in a snarl. If the dean’s anger hadn’t been directed at Rachel, Owen would have thought his reaction almost laughable. The man had gone from haughty and dispassionate to gnashing your teeth mad in a split second. All because Rachel had compared him to Stronach, another haughty ass.

“Hear me well, Ms. Davis. I am nothing like Stronach, and you will do well to remember that,” the dean said, his voice low, threatening. He stared at her, his ice blue eyes hard and unwavering. Then he blinked, pushed away from the desk and smoothed his tie. “I believe that what has been happening these last twenty years is as real as you and I. My comparison to Bigfoot was made to prove a point. You’ll find that once you talk to the students and town residents.”

“I apologize if I offended you,” Rachel said and rested the notepad on her lap. “And not to sound…obtuse, but could you explain what point you were trying to prove?”
 

If he wasn’t mistaken, Owen swore Rachel had purposefully goaded the dean. And he liked it. For once, someone else besides him was in the hot seat.

“My point,” the dean echoed. “The Townies are afraid. The students…” He shook his head and sent them a wry smile. “Young people think they are invincible. They also tend to make light of a serious situation. Like the Townies, they should be afraid. What if whoever is behind this changes direction? Kidnaps a sorority girl? A professor? A Townie?” He returned to his seat. “As I said, some people will compare what’s happening here to legends like Bigfoot. But this is no legend or myth. This is a reality. Stronach foolishly believes otherwise.”

Rachel picked up her notepad again and glanced at the small page. “Just a few more questions…would you be able to supply us with a list of university employees?”

“I’ll have human resources give you what you need.”
 

“Thank you. Would you happen to know how many employees live in the area year round?”

“Again, that would be a question for human resources,” Preston said, then checked his watch again.

Owen suspected their time with Dean Xavier Preston was just about up, which was fine by him. They’d likely have better luck discovering something new if they talked with human resources and campus security.
 

Rachel slipped her notepad and pencil into her coat pocket, then looked to him. “I think that’s just about all, right?”

Nodding, Owen stood. “Thank you for your time. Is human resources in this building?”

“Yes, first floor. I’ll put a call to that department now. I’ll also be sure to have my secretary give you the name of the alumnus who had donated the security equipment.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said as she moved toward the door. With her hand on the knob she stopped and faced the dean again. “One thing I forgot to ask…do you happen to know when Wexman University’s no hazing policy went into effect?”

“Finally, one question I can answer without wavering doubt,” the dean said and stood, then also moved toward the door. “Twenty-five years ago.”
   

“Twenty-five…” Rachel furrowed her brows. “Do you know why? I mean, did something happen to prompt the policy?”

“Yes, Ms. Davis. Very bad things.”

*

 
“Well, that was interesting,” Rachel said as she closed the Lexus’s door. “What did you think of the dean?”

“I like him about as much as I like Stronach.”

She chuckled. “Right. At least Preston’s secretary and the guy in human resources were helpful.” She waved the paperwork they’d been given on their way out of the building, then stowed it in her computer bag. “Thing is, I could have saved us the time and just hacked into their system.”

“So why didn’t you?” he asked as he drove the Lexus out of the parking lot and onto the campus’s main drag. “I could have done without dealing with Xavier Preston. Even his name sounds pompous.”

“I know. Can you believe how he snapped when I compared him to Stronach?” She shivered. Xavier Preston, though not much more than a half a foot taller than her, probably outweighed her by fifty plus pounds, which she suspected, based on the man’s build, to be mostly muscle. The way he’d gone from calm, almost bored, to angry and threatening, had not only taken her by surprise, but scared the crap out of her, too. Yes, she’d gone through basic training while in the Army and had knowledge of hand-to-hand combat training. But that had been over ten years ago. Since leaving the Army, when she had the time, she’d hit the gym and taken Spinning classes and worked with free weights. Cycling and weight training weren’t exactly going to help her with self-defense, though. The other CORE agents carried a gun, maybe she should, too.

 
“Yeah, the way he popped off on you surprised me. Preston has some obvious issues with Stronach,” Owen said, while the unsettling thought of walking around with a loaded weapon, or the possibility of having to use a gun wrapped itself around her brain.
 

 
“There’s an understatement,” she said as an insecurity she wasn’t prepared for coiled through her. Thinking about using a gun, defending herself, being placed in a vulnerable situation had her questioning her original goal of becoming a CORE field agent. If Owen hadn’t been in the dean’s office, would things have been different? While she doubted Xavier Preston would have gone a little bat shit crazy and knocked her on her ass, the possibility had been there. If she did begin to work in the field—alone—did she really want to place herself at risk? Her brother’s bruised and battered face flashed through her mind. Just as she couldn’t imagine her life without Sean, based on their relationship, she was certain he felt the same.

Owen slowed the Lexus, then pulled into the parking lot of campus security. After he parked and cut the engine, he turned to her. “Are you okay?”

She glanced away from his probing gaze. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You haven’t said much since we left the dean’s office.”

“It was a five minute drive.”

“Rachel, in the last four years, I’ve spoken to you more than anyone else. I know how fast your brain and mouth work. You could probably recite
War and Peace
in its entirety in five minutes.” He grinned. “Maybe even less.”

She gave him a half-smile, then toyed with the three small earrings running up her right ear. He was right. Her mind and mouth did work fast. Unfortunately her mind wasn’t presently on the case, but on whether or not she was even cut out to be a field agent. She could tell Owen this. He was right. The two of them knew each other well. Although he’d hurt her last year, and she made it a point to berate him whenever possible, strange as it sounded—even in her own head—she couldn’t deny their friendship.
 

If she set aside her personal issues with him, and looked at Owen as a friend and agent, not a sexy guy she wanted to fulfill every wildest fantasies with, she was certain he wouldn’t judge her for her insecurities, but would likely offer valid advice. Only she suspected Owen would report back to Ian once this investigation ended and give his opinion as to whether she could handle working in the field. She didn’t want him to be in any position where he had to pass judgment on her or play a deciding factor should Ian consider unshackling her from her desk. Adventure had been the reason she’d joined the Army. Intrigue had drawn her to CORE. After working for the private investigating firm, witnessing what the other agents dealt with, if she could step away from the desk, she could have that thrilling combination of adventure and intrigue.

Drawing in a deep breath, she finally said, “Again. I’m fine. I was thinking about the alumnus who donated the extra security equipment. I’m anxious to find out when he attended Wexman. I also think Preston’s parting remark about the incident that brought on the universities no hazing policy is…interesting.” She really hadn’t been thinking about any of those things, but she should have been rather than deciphering the mixed emotions ping-ponging through her head.

“I’d definitely like to know what Preston meant by ‘very bad things.’” He leaned his head against the headrest. “I didn’t buy his BS about not being able to disclose what had happened.”

“Right. It’s not as if we’re dealing with juveniles. Anyone involved in the hazing would have been at least eighteen. If the sheriff had been involved, they would have been treated as an adult.”

“And if they were arrested, their record would be public.” He smiled. “Well, they’d be easier for you to hack anyway.”

She reached for a pencil to chew on, then thought better of it. Her habit annoyed Owen. Besides, her jaw had begun to hurt from the bad habit. “True,” she said when she really wanted to tell him she wished she were back in CORE’s evidence and evaluation room. Her domain. Her sanctuary. There she had access to CORE’s state of the art equipment, multiple TV screens she used to manipulate video footage or photographs for viewing evidence, along with her good old-fashioned dry erase boards where she could list details as she brainstormed either solo or with fellow CORE agents.

“It’ll take a little longer to hack into the necessary databases, but it can be done.” She grabbed the pencil anyway, but stowed it in her coat pocket right beside her notepad. “I’ll work on it when we get back to Joy’s.”

He opened the car door. “Let’s get at it, then.”

Moments later they stood in campus securities command center. While Rachel loved a bit of melodrama, describing the small room that housed two computers, three TV screens and a dispatching radio as a “command center” came off a little over-the-top, even for her. She’d spent many boring years working in the Army Major Intelligence Command Center and couldn’t help being a little snobby over the term. At this point though, she could care less what Wexman’s head of security, Adam Lynch, called this room. With so few leads to go on, she hoped the security cameras from her brother’s residence hall had caught something useful.
 

“As you can see,” Lynch said and motioned to the TV monitors. “Our system isn’t much better than what you might see in a fast food restaurant, but it’s better than what we had a few years ago.”

“Dean Preston mentioned an alumnus had donated equipment to the university,” Owen said.

Lynch bobbed his balding head. “That’s right. We were able to add cameras to each building entrance and exit, plus we were able to give every building an electronic lock. Not every room, mind you. We could only stretch the donation so far. But we did make sure the dorms and graduate apartments had the electronic locks.”