by Erin Wade
“I make a mean stuffed chicken marsala,” Regan said.
“I love stuffed chicken marsala.” Brandy beamed. “You can cook that for me Wednesday night.”
Regan stared at her. She always felt she was not quite in the same conversation as Brandy.
“When I come over so you can help me study for the Spanish test I have on Thursday.”
Regan racked her brain, trying to recall when she had made the commitment to help Brandy. Then she shrugged as the young woman put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.
“Right now, I must go home and study for the test my sexy literature teacher is giving my class tomorrow.”
“I’m going to postpone that until Wednesday,” Regan informed her. “I’m certain no one studied for it this weekend, and I see no reason to set up students for failure. I’ll post it on the assignment board after you leave.”
Chapter 18
Agent King placed Pat Sawyer’s written confession in a file folder and locked it in her desk drawer. Pat had promised to record the rest of the evil deeds perpetrated by the athletic department on her computer and email the sound file to Peyton. Now to tell Katherine that her chief of police framed a simpleminded homeless man for murder, Peyton thought.
She tapped Favorites and then touched the number that would dial the chancellor’s direct line.
“A call from you in the middle of the day can’t be good.” Katherine’s melodic voice sent a tremor through Peyton.
“We could combine business with pleasure, and I could give you my report over dinner tonight,” Peyton suggested.
“I’d like that,” Katherine said. “I’ll make reservations where we won’t be disturbed. Pick me up at seven.”
Before Peyton could respond, Katherine had ended the conversation. She knows I’ll be there, Peyton mused.
##
Katherine O’Brien had flitted through Peyton’s thoughts all day. She pictured the fiery redhead as she drove toward her mansion.
Fanatically guarded about her private life, O’Brien’s professional career was an amazing chain of successes. Her husband had been killed in an auto accident shortly after their marriage, and Katherine had never remarried, choosing to devote herself to her career.
She was fiercely protective of the university and all of its programs and traditions. She had agonized over the athletic program and often told Peyton she felt like an outsider whenever the school’s sports programs were discussed. “They intentionally keep me in the dark,” she’d confided to Peyton.
As Peyton pulled her sedan into the circular drive, Katherine came out the front door and walked to the car. Peyton leaned over and pushed open the passenger’s door for her.
Peyton cast an approving glance at the chancellor. “You look like a twenty-something student instead of the leader of the university,” she teased. “I do love tight-fitting jeans.”
Katherine laughed. “Agent King, if I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you’re letching after me.”
Peyton grinned. “Uh-huh. Let me see . . . fitted designer jeans, UT sweatshirt that stops right above the firmest derrière I’ve ever seen. The only thing you aren’t torturing me with is your beautiful cleavage.”
“I’m saving that for later,” Katherine said seriously.
Peyton moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her entire mouth had gone dry. She moved the conversation to safer ground. “I’m having trouble reaching your athletic director.”
“Bob Radford,” Katherine huffed. “I’ll make sure he’s in your office at nine in the morning.” She pulled her phone from her purse and stabbed at the name Radford. His wife answered the call.
“Marion? Hello. This is Chancellor O’Brien. Is Bob around? . . . No, I won’t bother him there. Please give him a message for me. He needs to be in FBI Agent Peyton King’s office on campus at nine in the morning, or she will issue a warrant for his arrest. She’s working out of Eldon Hall, Room 105. . . . Yes, it is extremely important. Thank you, Marion.”
“If he isn’t there at nine sharp, call me. I’ll send officers to bring him to you.”
“He’s the only one I can’t account for at the time of Robin Chase’s death,” Peyton informed her. “Sawyer thinks he might be killing off the athletic staff to rid himself of anyone who might testify against him. But then she reasoned that he would have to kill the entire football team and her in order to silence all the people who have seen him in compromising positions.”
“It makes me sick to my stomach to think of all those coeds who have been scarred for life and that poor girl who was murdered. I still believe Tucker and some of the football players raped her, and that homeless man—”
“Didn’t kill her,” Peyton said.
“What do you mean? Pat Sawyer had his confession on an audio.”
“Pat framed him,” Peyton mumbled. “She edited the audio. She intentionally framed him. She admitted it.”
“Oh Peyton, how do I clean up this mess?” Katherine clenched her fists. “This is the kind of stuff that gets universities blackballed. If the news media gets hold of this, my career will be over—all because a bunch of testosterone-saturated apes can’t keep it in their pants.”
“Maybe I can scare Radford enough that he’ll resign and go away,” Peyton suggested.
“I hope you can, Peyton. That would be best for everyone concerned.”
“Don’t worry, Katherine. I’ll take care of it.”
Chapter 19
In an act of defiance, Bob Radford waited until three in the afternoon to show up at Peyton’s office.
“Mr. Radford, I appreciate you coming to talk with me.”
“I had no choice after you ran crying to the chancellor,” Radford snorted. “What’s so important you got her all riled up?”
“Two deaths in your department,” Peyton said, glaring at him in disbelief. “Perhaps you aren’t aware that your head coach and women’s athletic director have been murdered.”
“Of course, I’m aware,” Radford growled. “I just don’t see why you want to drag me into this mess.”
“This mess is of your making.” Peyton glowered. She was tired of Radford’s pompous attitude. “If you handled your job properly, I doubt we’d have accusations of rape and doping against your staff and players.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Radford flopped into a chair across from Peyton.
“Perhaps this will jog your memory.” Peyton pulled one of the complaints from Pat Sawyer’s files.
“This was filed six weeks ago after the football team held a preseason practice. It was filed by a waitress at Hooters. According to her, half a dozen players entered the restaurant and began drinking. When they became drunk and rowdy, the manager instructed her to stop serving them.
“The players were belligerent and refused to leave. According to the waitress and the manager, you showed up, ordered another round for them, and joined them at their table. You made lascivious remarks to the waitress and argued with the manager. Austin police were called to remove you and your boys from Hooters. As you were leaving, you threatened the waitress. Early the next morning, two men broke into the woman’s apartment and raped her. She identified both attackers as two of the athletes who had gotten into your car when you left the restaurant.”
“Of course, they got into my car. I took them back to their frat house. They were too drunk to drive. That doesn’t mean I condoned what they did later,” Radford groused. “I had nothing to do with what happened to that girl.”
“According to the Austin police report, both football players claimed that you suggested they should pay the woman a visit.”
“I don’t recall,” Radford said flatly. “Do I need to get my attorney?”
“No, I’m not going to arrest you, but I will be reporting what I have found to Chancellor O’Brien.”
“Don’t do that,” Radford whined. “That bitch is just looking for a reason to fire me.”
“You don�
��t have a good rapport with the chancellor?” Peyton did her best to look shocked.
“No, she’s a man-hating tyrant,” Radford declared. “If she had her way, UT would have no football program.”
“I doubt Chancellor O’Brien would ever shut down something that has been such an institution at UT. She is all about tradition. She’s also all about obeying the law.”
Peyton thumbed through the files on her desk. “I have enough evidence to file criminal charges against you. If I were you, I’d resign before the press gets hold of the sordid stories involving you.”
“Seriously?” Radford made a guttural sound deep in his throat. “I have three years left on my multimillion-dollar contract. I’m not walking away from that. Chancellor O’Brien doesn’t have the balls to fire me. The publicity would be bad for her reputation and the college.”
“It doesn’t bother you to tarnish the university’s reputation?”
“Hell no! One university is as good as another. I’d file a lawsuit claiming O’Brien’s fight with me is over my refusal of her advances.”
“I . . .” Anger electrified Peyton’s body. “If I were you, I’d have a heart-to-heart talk with Chancellor O’Brien and work out what is best for the university.”
“What would be best for the university would be to get rid of O’Brien and put a man in that job who understands about football. She thinks the English department is as important as my sports programs.”
“Imagine that.” Sarcasm dripped from Peyton’s lips.
After Radford left, Peyton separated the complaints against the coaches and players. Complaints against the coaching staff had escalated over the past two months. She called O’Brien’s office and was told the chancellor was in a meeting. “Please give her a message that I’ll contact her in the morning. I’m leaving my office for the day.”
Peyton locked all the files in the office wall safe and locked the door. As she was walking to her car, she spotted Regan Shaw strolling toward her.
“Professor Shaw, are you looking for me?”
“No, I’m walking to that little Greek restaurant across from Acorn Hall,” Regan answered.
“If you’re hungry for good Greek food, don’t waste your time there,” Peyton said. “I was just going to dinner. Why don’t you join me, and I’ll show you a great Greek restaurant?”
Regan considered the invitation and then nodded. “That sounds delightful.”
As they drove, Peyton questioned Regan about Grace Brandywine. “Did she leave your sight the day Robin Chase was murdered?”
Regan gave careful thought to the question. “No. After she pulled Robin off me, she held my hand, supporting me as we searched for the coaching staff’s motorhome. It took us thirty or forty minutes to locate it. You met us just before we reached it, and we were with you until Brandy left in the ambulance with Joey.”
“I, uh, hate to say this,” Peyton said, “but you are the common denominator in both murders. Coach Tucker and Coach Chase both tried to molest you.”
“Surely you aren’t one of those law enforcement officers who places the blame on the victim,” Regan raged. “I can assure you, my skirt wasn’t too short. I was wearing jeans on both occasions, and I was not wearing low-cut sweaters.
“I’ve lost my appetite, Agent King. Please take me home.”
“I’m sorry,” Peyton mumbled. “Please do stay and have dinner with me. I’m just chasing around in circles on this case. The only one I can’t account for is Chief Sawyer. I called her on the phone for backup, so she wasn’t with any of us.”
Peyton parked her car and turned toward Regan. “I don’t mean to be abrasive. I’ve never had a case like this where so much is at stake. Chancellor O’Brien’s reputation, the athletic program, and the campus police force will all come under review if I can’t solve this quickly.”
They got out of the car and were silent as they entered the restaurant. Peyton requested a table in a private area. They gave the server their order and waited until she walked away to continue their conversation.
“Maybe it isn’t anyone who’s in our lives now,” Regan suggested. “Maybe it’s one of the students who was molested or a relative of the young woman who was murdered. I’d certainly hunt down the person who got away with killing my daughter.”
“But a derelict was charged with that murder,” Peyton said, wondering why Regan thought justice hadn’t been served in that case.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Regan mumbled.
“I’ll begin working my way through the victims tomorrow. Tonight, let’s discuss more pleasant things, as friends do.”
“I’ll vote for that.” Regan laughed.
“Let’s talk about you, your books, and all the exciting things going on in your life.” Peyton opened her menu. “I read in one of the magazines that your last book is being made into a television series.”
“Yes. In June I’ll be returning to New York and then heading to Hollywood.”
“That book was set in Dallas, as I recall,” Peyton said, gazing into eyes warm with laughter.
“It was. I imagine I’ll be back in Texas once the filming begins.”
“Will you have any input in the selection process when they decide who will play your main characters?” Peyton signaled for the waitress. They placed their order and then continued discussing Regan’s career.
“Yes, that’s one thing that is stipulated in all my contracts,” Regan answered. “I’ve met so many beautiful people on this campus. I’d love to have an unknown play the part of Victoria in the new series. I’m discussing it with my producer right now.”
“Anyone I know?”
Regan laughed. “I’d rather not say. She probably won’t do it anyway.”
“Speaking of the devil,” Peyton whispered as a group of diners entered the restaurant.
Regan turned to watch Joey and Brandy crowd around a table with their friends. “I wasn’t thinking about Brandy,” Regan said. “I was thinking about Katherine O’Brien.”
“O’Brien?” Peyton gasped. “Yes, she’d make an incredible police captain.”
“An incredibly beautiful police captain,” Regan said.
Both women laughed as they thought about the staunch chancellor running a police department. “She could do it,” Peyton added.
Chapter 20
Regan was glad her back was to the rowdy college students. She didn’t want to watch Joey put his hands all over Brandy. Even the thought made her nauseous.
Peyton leaned close to Regan so she could hear her over the chatter coming from the students’ table. “You know we have to walk past them to leave,” she said.
Regan nodded and pulled her wallet from her purse to pay her half of the check. “My treat,” Peyton said, handing the waitress a credit card. “Dining with you was so much nicer than taking home a burger or ordering-in pizza. We should do this more often.”
The two women stood talking as they pulled on their jackets and gathered their things. The students quieted when they realized the FBI agent and professor were in the restaurant.
“Professor, Agent King, what a surprise meeting you two here.” Joey rose to his feet as he greeted the two women. He introduced them to his companions and ended with, “Of course, you know Brandy.”
Brandy tried to hold Regan’s gaze, but the brunette looked away. “Don’t forget to study for your test Wednesday,” Regan reminded them.
Peyton placed her hand on the small of Regan’s back and gently moved her toward the door.
“Miss King,” the waitress called. “You forgot your credit card.”
As Peyton walked back to their table to retrieve the card, Brandy stood to face Regan. “Don’t forget you’re tutoring me tomorrow night.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Regan suppressed her smile. That’s all I can think about.
Peyton returned and resumed her efforts to usher Regan from the restaurant.
Brandy narrowed her eyes as she watched the possessive way Agen
t King touched the professor.
##
Regan scolded herself for being so excited about cooking dinner for Brandy. The alluring young woman had been on her mind all day. Everything was ready to go into the oven an hour before Brandy’s arrival.
Regan poured a cup of fresh coffee and strolled into her home office. The blank screen of her computer beckoned to her. Maybe I should start a new book, she thought.
She pushed the button that would take her into a new world. A world that existed in her mind and manifested itself on the computer screen. She had been toying with the idea of writing about the campus murders. I think I’ll title it “Insanity in Academia,” she thought.
Regan opened the manuscript of her unpublished book. 429 pages of her personal best opened onto the screen. It still disturbed her that the book had been rejected. She had never received a rejection letter before. Her first book had skyrocketed to a bestseller, as had every book following it.
She jumped when her doorbell rang. She checked her watch. It was too early for Brandy. She wondered who it was as she hurried to the door.
“Peyton! What a pleasant surprise. Please come in.”
“I’m sorry to show up unannounced.” Peyton glanced around the room as Amazon Alexa’s alarm reminded Regan it was time to take her chicken marsala from the refrigerator.
“Alexa, off,” Regan commanded. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Peyton?” Regan motioned for the agent to follow her into the kitchen. “It’s fresh.”
“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” Peyton grinned. “I’ve had better days.”
Regan poured a cup of coffee for Peyton and refilled her own cup. She checked the temperature of her oven and pulled the chicken marsala from the refrigerator.
“Either you’re expecting company, or you cook incredible cuisine for yourself.”
“I’m tutoring Grace Brandywine for her Spanish test tomorrow,” Regan explained.
“An English lit professor who doubles as a Spanish tutor? You’re multitalented, Professor Shaw. How fluent are you in Spanish?”
Regan laughed. “Fluent enough.”
