by Ali Franklin
Looking out her window for inspiration, she was startled to see where she was. Without realizing it, she had driven right past her own neighborhood and was now near the campus. The next traffic light was the entrance closest to Van Zandt Hall. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. Then she pressed the lever for her blinker.
She entered VZ and took the stairs to the second floor, grateful for the “night lights” in the modern building that remained lit in the stairwell while the main lights were off. Reaching the second-floor hallway, she turned on the main lights and approached the rehearsal room where she had found Cora’s body. Stopping at the door, she tried to re-create the scene in her mind. She remembered the configuration of the drums, the way the chairs were stacked against the back wall, the garbage can she had used when she felt sick. What detail was nagging at her mind?
Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the door. She flicked on the classroom light and gasped. The room was an utter disaster. Chairs were scattered all around, some upended and some upright. The timpani had all been pushed against one wall and an outline — well, a circle, really — of masking tape marked the floor where the timpano holding Cora’s body had stood.
She walked over to the drums, now lined up against the front wall. There was black dust all over the heads. Fingerprint dust, she assumed. She walked down the line of instruments and touched the white top of each one. None of them moved. The sheriff’s team must have taken the other one to the station to process as evidence.
She turned to face the middle of the room and closed her eyes, again imagining the scene from yesterday. She couldn’t imagine what evidence they might have found. The room had been basically empty but for the chairs and the timpani.
She walked over to the tape circle on the floor and touched it with her foot. “Cora. I’m so sorry.”
She heard a noise downstairs. Momentarily startled, she realized it must be a campus patrol officer coming to see why the lights were on. She yelled into the hallway.
“Who’s there? It’s Dean McCabe.”
There was no response. She heard the door to the west staircase open and close. Then a cold pit formed in her stomach. What if it’s the killer returning to the scene of the crime? She turned off the room light and ran into the hall, planning to douse that light as well. She sprinted toward the end of the hall. If she could slip into the stairwell, she could be out of the building in seconds.
Running at full speed, she reached out as she neared her target. A split second before she flicked the light switch, the door opened, bringing Ryan face to face with the person she was running from: Detective Trainor.
Ryan came to a full stop, her face flushed, breathing hard. “Detective. It’s you. I thought it might be….” She bent over and put her palms on her knees.
“Yes, what a surprise,” said Trainor, her face a mask as she looked at the panting woman. “It’s me.”
Ryan stood up. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m investigating a murder,” said the detective. “The real question is, what are you doing here?”
“I just came by to see... just to see…." She took a few steps toward the rehearsal room then walked back. "I keep replaying it in my head, and I thought, I thought if I came to see the room again – and then I heard a noise….” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I heard a noise and thought maybe it was the killer. They always say the killer comes back.”
“Yes, they do,” said Trainor, one eyebrow raised.
“I was just looking for a clue,” said Ryan. “Something, anything that would help me make sense of it all.”
“Listen, Ms. McCabe. The clues are my business. This case is my business. This," her gesture encompassed the entire floor of the building, "is my responsibility, and I will take care of it. I don’t need civilians getting in my way.” She took a half-step closer to Ryan and looked down into her face. “The best thing for you to do is go home so I can do my job.”
“I’m not getting in your way.” Ryan clenched her fists but kept her face blank. “I just came by to look at the room again.”
“Is that right?” The detective cocked her head.
The women stared at each other.
Ryan blinked first. “I guess I’ll be going.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
As Ryan left the campus she pressed two buttons on her steering wheel. The call connected.
“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?” said Teddy.
“I’ll do it. I’m going to help Grace.”
11
Ryan rode fifteen miles on her bike Wednesday morning to prepare herself for the day ahead. It would be hard enough to do her job with a murder investigation going on. But she had promised to look into that murder herself. She was going to need all the strength she could muster.
She had a second cup of coffee, then took time washing her breakfast dishes. She was stalling. Yes, work would be difficult until the murder was solved. But the real reason she was taking her time getting to the office this morning was that Helen would be there.
Helen Wherry had been the administrative assistant to the dean of students at Haverwood for more than twenty years. She was a campus institution. She was also the sweetest human being Ryan had ever known. She was competent, she was wise, and Ryan felt fortunate to call her a dear friend. Today Helen would be returning to work after a long weekend with her grandsons in Denver.
Thanks to a phone call from Ryan on Tuesday, Helen knew about Cora’s death. But Helen was going to want the whole story, and that meant Ryan would have to relive the details yet again. Ryan wasn’t sure how many more times she could describe discovering her colleague’s body.
As usual, Helen was already in the office when Ryan arrived. She stood as Ryan entered and said, “Oh, Ryan, I’m so sorry.” They comforted each other with a long hug.
After a few moments Helen offered Ryan some tea. “Sit down, dear,” the older woman said. “I’ll get it. You’ve had a terrible couple of days.”
Ryan slumped onto one of the sofas usually used by students waiting to see her. She fingered the bridge of her nose, thinking. Helen brought the tea and sat next to her. They sipped in silence until Ryan spoke.
“Helen, it was terrible.”
“I’m sure it was.” Helen nodded. “Cora was dear to all of us. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Ryan had thought she didn’t want to talk about it, but Helen always made her feel like she could say anything. She started with the thing that had been on her mind all morning.
“Helen, did you know Cora used to have a girlfriend? They broke up about a year ago. Her name is Grace.”
“Yes. I met her once in the cafeteria, I think.”
“The sheriff’s detectives think she’s a suspect,” said Ryan.
“Oh my,” said Helen. “They do tend to look at the significant other in situations like this. She seemed like a nice young lady.”
“She is. I met her last night. She’s a friend of Teddy and Summer’s. She’s...charming.” Ryan’s face held the hint of a smile.
Helen caught herself before she lifted an eyebrow. In the five years she had known Ryan, she had never seen the dean display even a hint of interest in a woman. She had a feeling there was a reason Ryan didn't date, but she never pried. Was Ryan attracted to Cora’s former girlfriend?
“You should see the detective in charge of the case,” continued Ryan. "She is such a control freak. I went over to VZ last night and she treated me like I was an idiot. She's giving Grace a really hard time.”
“I’m sure she’s just doing her job, dear,” said Helen.
Ryan was about to respond when the office door opened, startling both women. It was Nicki Statton.
“Good morning, Nicki,” Helen stood. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No thank you, ma’am,” Nicki replied. Nicki always treated Helen like she would a favorite aunt or grandmother. “I’m actually here on campus
police business.”
“Come in and sit down.” Ryan patted the couch. “Tell us what’s happened. Is it about Cora?”
“No.” Nicki sat on the arm of the couch and looked at both women. “Sometime in the last week, the main campus computer was hacked.”
“Oh, no.” Ryan’s face fell. She immediately imagined thousands of cases of student and faculty identity theft. “What did they get?”
“Not much, far as the IT guys can tell,” said Nicki. “Kyle Petrowsi says it looks like they just got into the basic directory. It’s the kind of information anyone connected with the campus can get. Student phone numbers, faculty vitae, things like that.”
“No grades or Social Security numbers?” asked Ryan.
“No. Petrowski says the sensitive information is protected with more advanced security. He explained it all to me, but I’m not much of a computer geek. Nevertheless, he’s going to keep an extra-close eye on things just to make sure there isn’t any usual activity online.”
“Can Kyle track who did it?” Ryan asked.
“He doesn’t think so but he’s doing everything he can. He says...” the chief looked down at her notebook. “He says the intrusion was so minimal that there won’t be a digital footprint to follow.”
“Can we strengthen our online protection?” asked Ryan.
“He’s looking into that, too,” said Nicki. “It might take some money.”
“I’ll talk with Oscar about it,” said Ryan. “I’m sure he knows how devastating it would be for the college if our students’ personal information got out.”
“Don’t forget the faculty and staff,” Helen chimed in. “Some of us want to retire someday.”
Nicki stood and smiled at Helen. “We sure do. Well, ladies, I must go serve and protect. I’ll let you know if Kyle finds any more information.” She reached for the door, then turned around.
“I almost forgot,” she said. “Kyle says you should change all of your passwords on campus systems just to be safe.”
The two women promised they would. When the chief had gone, Ryan shook her head.
“I hope Kyle is right,” said Ryan. “If our students think their information isn't safe online, we could have a mass exodus. Will you set up a meeting for me with Rena in Public Affairs? We’ll have to draft a communication to go out to the students. Oscar will want one for the broader campus community as well.”
Ryan's brow furrowed as she walked into her office. If the hacking got worse, it could turn into a Big Deal. And Big Deals — other than national sports championships — were never a good thing on a college campus.
Her desk phone rang. She picked up, expecting to hear Oscar or Rena on the line.
“Hello, Dean McCabe,” she answered.
“Ryan?” said the voice on the other end. “It’s Grace. Grace Loh.”
“Oh!” said Ryan. She smiled. “What a surprise.”
“I hope I’m not calling at a bad time."
“No, not at all. We’re busy, and we have a…project we’re working on, but I’ve got a few minutes. How was your meeting with the detectives this morning?”
“That woman has the ability to make me feel like a six-year-old child. It was the same questions over and over again. I know they’re waiting for me to slip up, but I don’t have anything to slip up about.”
“I know. That must be tough.”
“I just talked to Teddy,” said Grace. “She says you’ve agreed to help me.”
“Yes. I’m not sure what I can do, but we should probably get together to talk about where I should start.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Ryan, you have no idea how much I appreciate this. I can’t believe something so terrible has led to me meeting someone so great.”
Ryan didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.
“Oh, I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry,” said Grace.
Ryan’s face was hot. It had been a long time since anyone had flirted with her. She forced out a few words. “How about meeting me on campus tomorrow for lunch?”
“It’s a date.”
12
Thursday morning was cold and dreary. It was apropos, as Oscar had scheduled Cora’s memorial service to be held in the Alumni Chapel that afternoon. The morning dragged by, with Ryan’s attention split between dealing with the campus data breach and thinking about how to help Grace.
Oscar had sent letters via snail mail and email to every student, administrator, and faculty or staff member outlining the records intrusion and what information might have been obtained. The letters stated that there was no reason to believe anything of a sensitive nature had been accessed. It went on to assure the campus community that significant steps were being taken to enhance online security at every level. As a precaution, all users of college systems were encouraged to change their passwords.
The phone had rung off the hook all morning as expected. Everyone on Ryan’s staff had been recruited to calm the fears of those students and parents who wanted more information. Ryan, Helen, and the rest of the team had been able to reassure each caller that steps were indeed being taken to protect the data and that their sensitive personal information was safe.
Ryan's stomach jumped when she heard Grace's voice in the outer office. She was wrapping up a phone call, so Grace sat and talked with Helen for a few minutes. The two women recalled the time they had met almost two years earlier at the campus cafeteria, then talked about the tragedy with Cora. Ryan finished her phone call and came out to meet her new friend.
"Are you and Helen catching up?"
Grace smiled and nodded. "Helen was reminding me about the time a student spilled a Coke down my back in the cafeteria."
"No way."
"Way. I have to admit it was pretty funny. He ran into me while he was staring at a pretty girl."
"Of course he did," said Ryan, laughing.
Helen chimed in. "The look on Grace's face was priceless. Cora didn't know whether to lecture the student about watching where he walked or about how to talk to women. It was hilarious."
Grace grinned. "I wonder if he ever talked to that girl.”
Ryan and Grace said good-bye to Helen and left the office. They crossed the plaza and walked around the south end of Henley Pond to the Student Union Building, also known as “the SUB”. The first floor was referred to as the “cafeteria,” but it was really made up of multiple fast-food franchises and a central space with more than a hundred tables where diners could sit.
There wasn’t enough business for all of the franchises to stay open during the summer, so they took turns, with half of the little shops open every other week. This week’s options were sub sandwiches, a Mexican-food buffet, and salads. Both women headed for the last option and piled their plates high with vegetables. They sat near a window that had a view of the pond and ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Ryan spoke.
“Have you heard from the detectives today?”
“No, but my next-door neighbor told me the cops have been interviewing people in the neighborhood. They're trying to find someone who saw me leave my house Monday afternoon. If they can’t prove I was at the music building, they can’t really think I did it, right?”
“I would think not,” answered Ryan. “But I don’t trust that Trainor. Maybe we should look at it from another angle. Could we get some of your friends or coworkers to serve as character references? Show the detectives you’re not a bad person? Maybe that would convince them to look into other suspects.”
“Maybe,” said Grace. “I think I could put together a list of people we could talk to.”
“Our only other option is to find another suspect. Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Cora?”
“No. Trainor and Prieto have been asking me that all week,” said Grace. “I can’t think of anyone. Cora was a good person.”
“All right. Then we’ll start by calling the people on your list. In the meantime, keep trying to think of
anyone who might have had it out for her.”
When they had finished eating, Grace walked Ryan back to Glaser Hall.
“Do you want to come up and say good-bye to Helen?” asked Ryan.
“No, you can tell her I said I’ll see her next time,” replied Grace with a wink.
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. So there's going to be a next time?
Ryan entered her office just as Helen was finishing a phone call.
“Have you eaten yet?” Ryan asked.
“No, I’ll go now if that’s okay with you,” Helen looked around. “Did Grace leave?”
Ryan nodded. “She said to tell you she’ll see you next time.”
Helen paused in the doorway. “Do you think she’ll be coming around a lot?”
“I would think so. I’m trying to help with her case.” She smiled. “And she's nice to be around.”
Helen took a deep breath, then decided to say what was on her mind. “You seem awfully sure she couldn’t be mixed up in what happened to Cora.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying I wouldn’t put all my eggs in someone’s basket if I'd just met them,” said Helen.
Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Is there something I should know about Grace?”
“I just think you should get to know her better before you go out on a limb for her.”
Ryan smiled. “Helen, you have always been my protector. Thank you for caring so much about me. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“That’s all I ask,” said Helen. She waved and left for lunch.
Ryan sighed and sat at Helen’s desk, ready to take the next panicked-parent call. While she waited, she retrieved her laptop from her own desk and booted it up so she could answer emails. There were over two hundred, most of which were responses to the email Oscar had sent that morning.
