You’d have to get another weasel to do your dirty work, Noah thought with contempt for the older man. But he and Jack were after alibis and for now would play nice.
“One of your studies has come up in the course of an ongoing investigation,” Jack said. “The study in which participants play a game called Shadowland.”
“Yes. That’s the work of one of my graduate students, Eve Wilson.” His lips thinned. “But I guess you already knew that. No matter. How can I help you?”
“You can start by telling us where you were last night,” Noah said. “All night.”
“Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused, and Jack frowned.
“We’re investigating murder, Professor. Four women have been killed.”
“What does that have to do with my study?” Donner asked.
“All four victims were participants,” Noah said, wondering if the man’s confusion could possibly be real. “All four were heavily into the Shadowland game.”
Donner sat back heavily, disbelief etched in his face. “You’re joking.”
“We don’t joke, Professor,” Jack said, “especially not about something like this.”
The color drained from Donner’s face. “Four women?” he whispered. “In my study?” Then Noah’s first question seemed to catch up to him as twin flags of crimson appeared on Donner’s sallow cheeks. “Am I correct in understanding I am a suspect, Detective? That you want me to provide an… an alibi?”
“We’re asking everyone connected with the study, Professor,” Noah said. “It would make our jobs a great deal easier if we could just cross you off quickly.”
“Of course,” he murmured, distractedly. “I was with my wife asleep.”
Noah jotted it down. “What about Monday morning between midnight and five?”
“Asleep. With my wife.”
He was becoming agitated. “All right,” Noah said calmly, and Donner appeared to try to regain control. “We think whoever is killing your subjects has access both to your participant list and to the questionnaires they filled out when the study began.”
“Why would you think that?”
“He uses information from the questionnaires to torture them,” Jack said flatly.
Donner flinched. “Torture them? He tortured them? Who are the four women?”
Noah frowned. “Don’t you read the paper, Dr. Donner? Three of the victims were listed yesterday. On the front page.”
Donner gestured weakly to his journals. “I don’t read much news.”
Okay. “The four victims are Samantha Altman, Martha Brisbane.” Noah stopped when the remaining color drained from Donner’s face. “Professor?”
“Martha Brisbane, did you say?” Donner asked unsteadily. “Dear God. I thought she’d committed suicide.” He abruptly went silent, as if realizing he’d said too much.
“How did you know that, sir?” Jack asked quietly. “You don’t read the paper.”
“My graduate student, Eve… she told me. I didn’t believe it was related to our study at the time. The others? Who were they?”
“Christy Lewis and just last night, Rachel Ward,” Jack said.
“I see.” He looked at Jack. “What do you need from me?”
“Anybody who would have had access to the list and those questionnaires.”
“I… I don’t know. My assistant entered the names, but the committee separated them into groups. I only saw results by subject number. Nobody was supposed to see everything. That’s the purpose of a double-blind study.”
“What about the questionnaires? How were they used?” Noah asked.
“They’re part of a baseline measure. They form a profile, a personality index.”
“Did anybody read them?” Jack asked.
“Various students,” he said. “But nobody ever saw the subjects’ real names. They were to input the answers in a standardized protocol.”
There was nothing here they could use, Noah thought. He and Jack stood. “Thank you,” Jack said. “We’re trying to keep Marshall and Shadowland out of the press. We’re hoping the killer doesn’t know how much we know. We’d appreciate your cooperation.”
Donner nodded, his face gray. “Of course,” he murmured. “If you see Miss Wilson, tell her… Tell her I’m sorry. I should have listened to her.”
“I’ll tell her,” Noah said. “If your assistant calls you, let us know immediately.”
“Of course.” They left Donner with his head in his hands, trembling.
“Well?” Jack said when they were back at their cars.
“He’s too… frail to have done these murders.”
“Mentally or physically?”
“Both.”
Jack nodded. “I agree. Let’s confirm Donner’s alibi and find Jeremy Lyons.”
Noah gritted his teeth. “Dammit, I wish I’d grabbed that little weasel yesterday.”
“I think we’ve all been a little distracted,” Jack said. “Let’s pull LUDs on both Donner and Lyons and pay their wives a visit.”
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday, February 24, 11:20 a.m.
Callie, it’s all right,” Eve said, setting her lunch tray on the only empty table at the Deli. She sat down and slid her computer bag safely between her feet. “None of this is your fault. I should have called you, but I had no idea this guy would come to you.”
An irate Callie had intercepted Eve coming out of Abnormal class, saying she had information about Noah Webster, that Eve needed to know. More “Buckland” lies.
“I can’t believe I talked to him. He said you were having an affair with a married man, that Webster had a wife named Susan.”
So that was her name, Eve thought. She’d died, Sal had said. More than ten years ago. With a sigh she patted Callie’s hand. “Chill. I have to send a text to Webster, let him know I’m okay.”
“I am chilled, knowing that guy grabbed you. You’re texting? Why not just call?”
Eve hated text messaging. Even short messages made her thumb throb. “He’s working. I don’t want to bother him during an interview.”
“Give me your phone. I’ll do it for you. What do you want to say?”
“Um… at the Deli with Callie. Was walked over by a large ex-wrestler named Jose. Currently surrounded by at least six cops. Am quite safe. Don’t worry, Eve.”
Callie shot her a curious look, then dutifully input the message. Then frowned. “What’s this one from this morning?” She raised angry eyes. “Did this Buckland poser text you?”
“Yeah.” And Eve was still shaken from it. “Look, I know how he found out about me. He was following Noah and I happened to be there. But how did he find out about you?”
“I don’t know. A hell of a cool-headed attorney I’m going to make. He just made one false allegation and I bought it, lock, stock, and barrel.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Cal. You can hardly be expected to be objective when it comes to your best friend. How did he contact you?”
“My cell at first, but I had it turned off because I was in class. He left me a voicemail asking if I knew you, but I didn’t hear it till after I saw him.”
“He approached you? Did he touch you?”
“No. He was waiting for me when I came out of my last class. Then he stuck Noah Webster’s wedding picture under my nose, told me you were having an affair with a married man. I told him no way, you weren’t seeing anyone and definitely not a married man. He gave me his card. Told me to call if I heard anything.”
Eve leaned forward. “But he called you. On your cell.”
Callie’s brows went up. “Who would give him my number?”
“That would have been the guy you were talking to yesterday,” a voice behind them said, and Eve and Callie twisted to see who spoke. It was the barista Eve had talked to the day before, when she bought the copy of MSP while she’d waited for Noah to come.