“Sarah.” I hesitate. Still, it has to be said. “I know you really, um, like this guy. But how can you be so sure that he didn’t do it?”
Sarah just stares at me.
“I mean, the GSC does stand to gain from having Dr. Veatch out of the way—”
Sarah continues to stare.
“Look, I know,” I go on. “I was there this morning. And, yeah, he seemed as surprised as anyone to hear that Owen was dead. But we both know that sociopaths are good actors. Maybe… ”
Sarah blinks. I sigh.
“Okay,” I say. “Fine. He didn’t do it.”
“Finally,” she grumbles. “You know, sometimes you seem to have difficulty processing information. You might look into a temporal lobe disturbance. Just a slight one. Did you ever suffer a concussion as a child? Because that might explain it. Anyway. I guess what we need to do is concentrate on finding the person who really did shoot Dr. Veatch.”
I swallow. “Uh, Sarah? Cooper and I already had this conversation earlier. And he seemed to think that would be a really bad idea.”
“Yeah?” Sarah sounds completely disinterested. “Well, things are a little bit different now, aren’t they? An innocent man has been wrongly jailed for a crime he did not commit. Now, who else can you think of who might have had motive to do this? Anyone? Magda? Any ideas?”
Magda looks at her watch again. “I’ve got to go.”
Sarah’s face crumples. “Really, Magda. Is it too much to ask that just this once you think of something besides your personal grooming? Like the life of a young man who is so forward thinking and self-sacrificing, he could conceivably one day be president of the United States?”
Magda looks dubious. “I don’t know,” she says. “I got some pretty funky stuff starting to grow where no hairs should be… ”
The cafeteria doors open, and Gavin comes striding in.
“Hey,” Magda yells at him. “We’re closed till five—”
“Duh,” Gavin says. “Heather, we’re too late. I just called up to Jamie’s room. Her roommate says she just left for home—”
I swear beneath my breath, and Sarah glances at me sharply. “Jamie who?” she wants to know.
“Jamie Price,” I say. “She had a meeting—”
“With Owen this morning,” Sarah finishes for me. “I remember, I scheduled it for her. She wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Why does Gavin know about it, though? And what does it matter that she’s gone home? What’s this about?”
“Nothing,” I say. I don’t want to give her false hope. “Just something she said—”
Gavin’s already approached our table. “We should go after ’er. Rent a car, or whatever. Go to her place and find out what’s going on.”
“Wait a minute,” I say, flattening my hands against the slightly sticky tabletop. “What?No.”
“We could take the train, I guess,” Gavin goes on. “But, like, how are we going to get from the train station to her house? It’s quicker to rent a car.”
“Not at rush hour, it isn’t,” Sarah says. “And it’s almost four. Why, exactly, are you doing this?”
“’Cause she knows why Dr. Veatch got iced,” Gavin explains, with a shrug.
Sarah’s whole demeanor changes. Her spine stiffens, and her rounded shoulders go back. She turns her suddenly laser-sharp gaze upon me. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she demands.
“Sarah,” I say, already reading the writing on the wall—and not happy about it. “It’s just—we don’t even know what Jamie’s talking about. It could be nothing.”
“But it could be something,” Sarah says breathlessly. “Have you told Detective Canavan?”
“Sarah—no. It just happened. We—”
But Sarah is already up and heading for the cafeteria doors. I throw Gavin a tired look. “Thanks.”
He shows me both his palms in a what’d-I-do? gesture.
“Let’s go,” I say to him. To Magda, I say, “See you later. Good luck with your waxing.”
She glares at me as I hurry after Sarah, Gavin hot on my heels. “Not everyone is naturally fair like you, Heather, you know,” Magda calls after us hotly. “Some of us need a little extra help!”
Out in the front lobby, we find that Sarah has already thrust herself in the middle of the tight circle of college administrators that’s formed around Detective Canavan, and is insisting, “… so you just need to get in touch with her at her parents’ house as soon as possible. We can of course give you that information if it will help at all with your investigation—”
Detective Canavan, seeing me approaching, gives me a help-me look over the top of Sarah’s head. “Right,” he says, to Sarah. “We’ll get right on that.”
“Sarah,” I say, gently.
“Here, why don’t I just go get it for you right now.” Sarah turns around and starts heading back for the residence hall director’s office. “I assume it’s all right for us to go back into our office now, right?”
“Uh,” Detective Canavan says. “Yes. The crime scene is clear.”
“The crime scene.” Sarah laughs. There’s nothing humorous in the sound, however. “Right. I’ll just go get you Jamie’s home address and be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
She hurries away, her long hair flying behind her. Dr. Jessup, still standing in front of Detective Canavan, gives me a look. “What’s this about a resident knowing something about Dr. Veatch’s murder, Heather?” he wants to know.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just something another resident overheard. It could be nothing… just a rumor.”
“Hey,” Gavin says indignantly. I elbow him, and he quiets down.
“I’ll have someone get in touch with this, er, Price girl,” Detective Canavan says. “But the evidence against Blumenthal is pretty convincing.”
“And may I ask what that evidence is?” I want to know.
“You may,” Detective Canavan replies, with a smile, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you.”