Chapter 8

  

The hamburger joint was crowded and smoky; most of the customers were students, at the bar or the pool tables drinking themselves into a stupor. Joe and I had seen this scene before, even rescued a young woman who’d almost died from binge drinking.

“It never fails to get to me,” said Joe. “Some nights I want to stand on the bar, announce I’m a cop and confiscate their car keys.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Minor impediment called the Constitution.”

Excessive drinking is a huge problem for college students, but, as Joe noted, there’s not much a university can do except declare the physical campus “dry.” A declaration that just sends the older students to off-campus bars, and the younger ones to off-campus parties.

We made our way to the back through the noise and confusion and sat in a booth. Just as I sat down, I noticed something familiar out of the corner of my eye. Gray curls. I focused on another booth in the opposite corner.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Look at that.”

In a booth in the opposite corner, Nell Bishop was engaged in serious conversation with Wynan Congers. Her eyes were locked on Congers and neither of them moved.

“No grass growing under that man’s feet,” said Joe, unfolding his menu.

I was still in a state of disbelief. “But Nell? I’ve never known her to pay any attention to a man. I don’t think she’s had a date in years. She’s the most appropriate widow I know.”

“Well then, it’s about time.” Joe put his hand over mine. “Decide what you want to eat and mind your own business.” He removed his hand. “C’mon, stop staring. You’ll embarrass her.”

“Yes, sir.” I realized I was pleased as well as surprised. Nell had been kind to me from my first day at Mountain West University. And when I took over as interim dean after Henry had been killed, Nell offered me more than loyalty. She became my friend and confidant as well as my assistant. She knew the paths through all the university bureaucracies. She knew all the scandals that had beset the school of journalism. Better yet, she fathomed all the weaknesses of those faculty and administrators who seemed intent on driving me crazy. But most important of all, she kept my secrets and her own counsel.

Nell, my friend, my gentle warrior, my secret weapon. I’d grown to care deeply about her.

She must have sensed my thoughts because she looked over at us. She sent me a little wave of her hand but made no move to get up and come over. She returned to the face of Wynan Congers.

Joe was paying attention. “Congers was a top cop in Las Vegas back in the day, solved several murders, and saved some girls from a prostitution ring. Any number of awards and citations.”

“Imagine how frustrated and angry he must be that he can’t protect his own granddaughter.”

“I’d rather not imagine it. It reminds me of the time when I thought I couldn’t protect you.”

Now my hand was over his. “You were great. You saved my life, and gave me the strength to deal with the other terrorists on the faculty. You’re still my hero, mister.”

I felt privileged when I was with Joe. Last winter, he and I had almost broken up for good. I hated to think anything would ever pull him away from me again. In spite of his moods, I wanted us to continue seeing each other.

Joe had told me some of his darker secrets, the worst of which was when he accidentally shot what he took to be an armed robber in a Chicago delicatessen only to discover the man was, in fact, a boy with a ski mask and a defective gun. That’s the kind of incident that can haunt a cop for life, and I knew it.

Just as I knew if I didn’t find Jamie Congers, it would haunt me. Since our conversation with Marilyn, I had wracked my brain trying to figure out why a kidnapper would go to his victim’s apartment afterward. What was he looking for, and if he wasn’t her abductor but just a common burglar, why wasn’t anything taken?

Joe intruded on my thoughts. “You look pensive. What’s up?”

“Just trying to exercise my powers of deductive reasoning.”

“As I recall from the last case we worked on together, you have some remarkable powers.”

“Why would he have gone to her apartment and looked through her possessions after kidnapping her? She didn’t have enough money or jewelry worth the risk of being caught.”

“Agreed. But there must have been something there that was important to him.”

I looked over at Wynan Congers and Nell. “Joe, I think this guy needed to know more about Jamie. It sounds weird, but I think he needed some information because he has some plan for her. A plan that can’t be good.”

Neither of us spoke, but I could see in his eyes that we both had the same thought. A plan also might mean she was still alive.