at the university. It was Saturday, and the faculty hallway was silent, just the way she liked it. “That’s all I remember,” she reiterated. “I told the other detectives all of this last night.” Then she’d barely slept, even though the police had patrolled her private road all night.
Her one dream had consisted of running through a forest, away from the kidnapper with the cunning blue eyes. Even in her dreams, there was something about him that intrigued her. How in the world did that make any sense?
The detective, a sixty-something black man with reassuring brown eyes, sat in one of several leather chairs in the room. The only one not stacked high with books and papers. He flipped another sheet of paper over in his slim notebook. “The only connection we can find between you and Victory Rashad is that you work at the same university. You have nothing else in common.” He looked her over, his gaze intent. “Not the same age, race, religion, or anything else.” He leaned forward. “What I’m trying to say is that our profiler doesn’t think your kidnapping and her murder are related.”
She swallowed. “But the kidnapper said—”
“The guy was obviously high on something and nuts—while hanging out in a cemetery.” Jones had a kind voice, and he was apparently trying to be gentle. “None of what he said to you in that car made sense, and the fact that he ran away after hitting the ground so hard proves he was on a strong hallucinogenic drug. He should’ve been in too much pain to breathe, must less flee.”
Promise tossed her latte cup in the garbage, which was already overflowing with discarded papers. Light filtered through the wall of windows, dancing through dust motes in the air. “You’re saying you don’t believe I’m in danger?”
He flipped his notebook closed. “I’m saying we don’t know. The guy saw you and tried to kidnap you, but he didn’t say anything specific about you, did he?”
She slowly shook her head. The would-be kidnapper hadn’t said anything that would lead her to believe that he actually knew her personally. Sure, he’d said he wanted her brain. But had he just been under the influence of drugs? She had been the person to mention Dr. Rashad, and all he’d done was agree. “There was just something about him.” She couldn’t explain it to herself, much less this man.
The detective stood and slid his business card through stacks of papers and a couple of books on the teakwood desk. “We do think this was random, a crime of circumstance.”
Promise’s pulse sped up. “What about Dr. Fissure?” He was still missing, although he’d disappeared in a different country. The coincidence was interesting but probably not connected to her.
The detective shook his head. “We talked with Scotland Yard, and so far, it looks like Fissure took off for Scotland with a grad student. Doesn’t seem to be related to this incident.”
That did sound a little like Gary. The guy was a known flirt, but even so. Promise rubbed a bruise on her arm from the airbag. Her entire body had been sore all morning from the crash. Her kidnapper had to be in worse pain, and he deserved it.
The detective smelled like citrus cologne. He gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re a small police force, and we can’t provide protection for you based on these facts. Perhaps the university can arrange something?”
“I’m not sure,” Promise said. The university security force was composed of three retired police officers—all in their mideighties. Student organizations volunteered as designated drivers and campus escorts after dark. “I’ll look into the matter.” How? She didn’t have any idea.
Jones nodded. “All right. Please call if you remember anything else, or if you see him again.” He pushed his chair back and stepped lightly over the different stacks of books and research covering her office floor, wincing as he had to hop to avoid two open notebooks illustrating diagrams she’d created to show students that supersymmetry could be consistent with unification as well as warped extra-dimensions theory. “You, ah, study dark matter and planets, right? My niece plays video games with stuff like that.”
She needed to finish those diagrams before class next week. “Yes. I’m interested in elementary parcels and fundamental forces, as well as extra dimensions of space.”
“Um, okay.” He safely neared the door. “I’ll call you if there are any developments on your case or on that of Dr. Rashad. Which, again, we think is probably unconnected.”