At the age of fourteen, Faith had been similarly tricked by a boy who was only three years her senior. He had compromised her in so many ways by holding the threat over her head that if she stopped seeing him, he would tell her parents all the things she had done with him. Faith had just dug herself deeper and deeper, skipping school, breaking curfew, being at his beck and call. And then she had gotten pregnant and he had tossed her aside like a piece of garbage.
The conference room door opened as the meeting adjourned. Men in suits poured out, blinking in the sunlight coming through the windows. Victor seemed surprised to find Faith waiting for him. There was an awkward moment where she reached out to shake his hand just as he went in to kiss her cheek. She laughed nervously, thinking she couldn't adjust to who she was supposed to be right now.
"I'm here for my job," she told him by way of an explanation.
He held out his hand, motioning for her to walk with him. "I got a message that you called earlier. I was hoping it was for a date, but I reached out to Chuck Wilson anyway."
Wilson was the scientist who was analyzing the gray powder Charlie Reed had found. "Does he have anything?"
"I'm sorry, but I haven't heard back from him yet. I made him promise he'd get to it today." He smiled. "We could go to lunch and check with him afterward."
"Sooner would be better. Is there a way to call him?"
"Of course."
They went down a small stairway. She told him, "I need to talk to one of your students, too."
"Which one?"
Faith played with the envelope in her hand, the pictures of Kayla and Bernard. "Tommy Albertson."
"You're in luck," Victor said, glancing at his watch. "He's been waiting for me in my office for the last hour."
"Is he in trouble?"
"That's what the meeting was about." Victor took her arm and led her down the hallway. He lowered his voice. "We've just gotten approval to begin the process of expelling him."
The parent-side of Faith experienced a mild form of panic at the thought. "What did he do?"
"A series of extremely stupid pranks," Victor told her. "One of which resulted in destruction of school property."
"What property?"
"He backed up the toilets on his hall last night. We think he used socks."
"Socks?" Faith asked. "Why would he do that?"
"I've given up asking myself why young boys do anything," Victor commented. "My only regret is that I won't be the one who gets to tell him he's out of here."
"Why not?"
"He gets an opportunity to face the expulsion committee and explain his case. I'm a tad concerned because there are some kindred spirits on the panel. It's made up of Tech graduates, most of whom participated in their fair share of idiocy while they were on campus, and most of whom went on to excel in their chosen careers."
Victor reached in front of her and opened the door marked "Dean of Student Relations." His name was in gold letters under the title, and Faith felt a shocking thrill at the sight of it. Her brief bouts of dating were usually with men whose titles generally tended toward the more generic: plumber, mechanic, cop, cop, cop.
"Marty," Victor said to the woman behind the desk. "This is Faith Mitchell." He smiled at Faith. "Faith, this is Marty. She's worked with me for almost twelve years."
The women exchanged pleasantries, but there was a definite understanding between them that they were sizing each other up.
Victor put on his official voice as he told Faith, "Detective Mitchell, Mr. Albertson is a nineteen-year-old adult, so you don't need my permission to talk to him. You're more than welcome to use my office."
"Thank you." Faith tucked the envelope under her arm and walked to another door with Victor's name on it.
Her first thought as she entered the office was that it smelled like Victor's aftershave and looked as masculine and handsome as he was. The space was large with a bank of windows that looked down on the expressway. His desk was glass on a chrome base. The chairs were low slung but comfortable looking. The couch in the corner was sophisticated, black leather, only marred by the teenage lump sitting on it.
"What are you doing here?" Tommy Albertson wanted to know.
"I'm here to help you with your grief counseling. Apparently, you've been so distraught about what's happened in your dorm over the last few days that you've been acting out."
The large lightbulb over his head flickered before finally turning on. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'm pretty worried about Gabe."
"Do you know if he has a gun?"
"I already answered that question," he reminded her. "No, I don't know if he had a gun. I didn't know he was depressed. I never met that girl-either of them. I just kept my head down, you know? Kept out of everybody's business."
"Is that why you're in Dean Martinez's office when you should be in class?"
"All just a big mix-up," he told her, his shoulders going up in a shrug.
She sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch. "You're in a lot of trouble here, Tommy."
"I'll be fine," he assured her. "My dad's on his way here to straighten everything out."
"There's not a lot to straighten, considering you destroyed school property."
He shrugged again. "I'll pay for it."
"You will? Or your dad will?"
Again, he shrugged. "What does it matter? He'll make a donation or buy a couple of football uniforms and it'll all be over." He added, "Plus, you know, it's like you said-I was acting out." He grinned. "I'm really torn up about Adam, and then I find out my buddy's depressed and leaving school? Man, too much."
Faith clenched her jaw, trying not to let him know he had gotten to her. She opened the envelope and showed him Evan Bernard's photo. "Have you ever seen this man?"
The boy shrugged.
"Tommy, look at the photo."
He finally sat up on the couch and looked at the picture of Evan Bernard.
Faith asked, "Have you ever seen him?"
Albertson glanced up at her, then back at the photo. "Maybe. I don't know."
She had never in her life wanted so desperately to slap the truth out of anyone. "Which one is it?"
"I said I don't know."
She kept the picture out. "I need you to really look at this, Tommy. It's important. Does this man look familiar to you?"
He sighed, exasperated. "I guess. Was he on TV or something?"
"No. You would have seen him around campus. Maybe Adam or Gabe were with him?"
Albertson took the photograph from her and held it up, studying the face. "I don't know where I've seen him, but he looks familiar."
"Can you think about it some more?"
"Sure." He gave her the photo and slumped back on the couch.
Faith could not hide her irritation. "Now, Tommy. Can you think about it now?"
"I am," he insisted. "I told you, he looks familiar, but I don't know where I've seen him. He kind of reminds me of Han Solo. Maybe that's where I recognize him."
Faith slotted the picture back into the envelope, thinking she looked like Harrison Ford more than Evan Bernard did. "How about her?"
Albertson didn't have to be asked twice to look at Kayla Alexander. "Wow, she's fucking hot." He narrowed his eyes. "She's the chick who died, right?"
Faith knew that Alexander's photo had been all over television for the last three days.
He frowned, handing back the photo. "Man, that's sick, getting wood for a dead girl." When Faith did not take back the picture, he dropped it on the table, a sour expression on his mouth.
"You never saw her before?" Faith asked, tucking the photo back into the envelope.
He shook his head.
"Thanks a lot, Tommy. You've been a real big help." She stood up to leave.
"I can call you if I remember anything." He was smiling in a way that he obviously thought was charming. "Maybe give me your home number?"
Faith bit her lip so that she wouldn't say anything back. His lack of compassion was galling. She wanted to remind him that Emma Campano was still missing-possibly dead-that a boy who was his age and in his school, someone who had slept less than ten feet from him, had been brutally murdered and that a killer was still at large. Instead, she got up and walked across the room, making herself pull the door to gently so as not to give him the satisfaction.