A Profiler's Case for Seduction - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,41

there might be a student sitting out here somewhere in the dark. Damn, but I wish I would have caught up with him.”

“Well, finding a bullet would be a start,” Donald said.

After half an hour Richard joined them and they searched for another hour and found plenty of things on the ground and in the bushes. Gum and candy wrappers, a paperback book that was weathered by more than one rainstorm, and a single pink sock. Although the grounds of the college looked pristine on the surface, it was evident that the groundskeepers rarely bent their backs to beat the bushes.

“Ugh, I’m not picking that up,” Donald said in disgust as he pointed to a condom. “Why don’t we pack it in? Those bullets could have gone anywhere and it’s obvious the perp didn’t drop anything. We’ve been back and forth over the territory the two of you covered half a dozen times.”

Mark looked at the illuminated dial of his watch. Almost midnight. He stared at the building that housed the history department and remembered what Dora had told him about Melinda and history teacher Andrew Peterson.

Funny that the man he’d chased had run to this area of the campus, as if it were his territory, a familiar place. Was it possible that Melinda and the teacher were behind the murders? A lovers’ thrill, the secret of murder could certainly spice up a relationship.

Or maybe it had been Peterson who had kidnapped Melinda, angry that she’d either spurned or threatened him. Maybe he’d kidnapped and beaten her to teach her a lesson and maybe he knew that Dora had seen him and Melinda together. That would make Dora a loose end, and nobody in the game of crime liked loose ends.

Nobody had spoken to Andrew Peterson with all the excitement about Troy Young. That particular piece of information had been deemed unimportant.

Let it go, an inner voice whispered in his head. Maybe it was time to let Melinda off the hook for the murders and pursue another avenue in her kidnapping. Maybe she didn’t show as much fear as he’d expected her to because she knew it was Andrew who held her captive, because she knew he was angry and might hurt her but wouldn’t kill her.

Maybe she really was a victim and the only reason she hadn’t fingered Peterson was because she still had some feelings for him.

He made a mental note to have an interview with Peterson the next day. If nothing else, Peterson knowing that Mark knew his secret might mitigate any threat to Dora, if that’s where the threat was coming from.

“Mark!” It was obvious by the aggravation in Donald’s voice that this wasn’t the first time he’d called out Mark’s name.

“Yeah?”

“I said let’s call it a night.”

Mark nodded and the three of them headed back toward Dora’s place, where Richard had parked his car. Donald got into the passenger seat of the car and Richard remained standing by the driver door with Mark. “You’ve got her covered for tonight, but what are you going to do about tomorrow night and the next night?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Mark said. If his theory about Peterson had legs, then a chat with the man might possibly put an end to the stalking or any threat to Dora.

“You know she’s crazy about you,” Richard said.

Mark looked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”

Richard released a deep rumble of laughter. “I’ve been around a long time and it was obvious in the way she looked at you, in the way she needed your embrace. I don’t know what you’ve got, man, but you’ve definitely caught her on your hook.”

As Mark climbed into the backseat of the car, Richard’s words weighed heavily in his heart. He was pretty hooked on Dora. Now, all he had to do was keep her alive to see if there might be the possibility of a real relationship between them sometime in the future.

* * *

Dora woke early the next morning after a night of restless sleep and bad dreams. She stumbled into her kitchen as dawn was breaking and fixed a short pot of coffee, her head filled with thoughts of Mark and the horrifying events of the night before.

At least she now knew she wasn’t losing her mind, jumping at shadows and imagining a stalker. The stalker was real. The very idea terrified her and sent an icy shiver up her spine.

Minutes later she sat at her table, her hands cupping a