by Elle Gray
He’s not wrong, and it’s a very insightful observation to make—more insightful than I would have given a philosophy professor credit for. It almost sounds as if he’s familiar with psychology, if only vaguely. His observations could have come straight from a textbook.
“You seem to know your students very well,” I say. “You seem to have a very personal connection to them.”
He shrugs. “I take an interest in the lives of my students,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “All of my students.”
“Back to my original question: did she happen to mention any problems she was having with anybody she was seeing?” Astra asks. “Or with anybody else, for that matter?”
He shakes his head. “No, she didn’t mention anything to me,” he replies. “Nothing that stands out.”
“Did she happen to mention why she might need to get away for a little while?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. Not to me, I’m afraid.”
“What about where she might go?” Astra presses. “Do you know of any place she might go to take a little sabbatical?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t. When you have the resources Selene Hedlund has, you can take a sabbatical anywhere in the world,” he replies. “We were close—as close as a teacher and student can be, anyway. But there was a lot I didn’t know about her. A lot she didn’t—or wouldn’t—tell me about her personal life.”
“So, she never told you where she liked to go to, as you said, recharge her batteries?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t,” he replies. “She liked to travel and experience new places. She’s as likely to be in France as she is to be in Iowa.”
I frown and look down at my hands. I’d hoped that, as her faculty advisor, he’d have something for us. But it’s looking like another dry hole. But then he cocks his head and looks at us as if he’s had a thought.
“There was one guy she mentioned she was having an issue with,” he says. “Spencer—Paul. Spencer Paul, that was it.”
“What sort of problem was she having with him?” Astra asks.
“She’d said she got together with him a couple of times and he got too clingy. Wouldn’t leave her alone,” he replies.
“Stalking?” Astra asks.
“Not exactly stalking,” he says. “More like just turning up at weird places and following her around. Not taking a hint that she didn’t want anything serious with him. I seem to recall that she didn’t think he was dangerous or anything. Just annoying.”
I nod and jot his name down in my notebook. “That’s good. Thank you, Dr. Crawford. That gives us somebody to talk to.”
“Of course,” he nods. “I want to help any way I can. I want her back home safely as much as you do.”
“And one last question, Doctor. Did you get any read as to whether Selene was doing drugs or drinking?”
He answers right away, “No, not at all. Naturally, being a college student, she undoubtedly attended the occasional kegger or club, but I never saw any indication of frequent usage of either drugs or alcohol.” I think he’s answering me to the best of his knowledge.
I slide my card across his desk. “If you can think of anything else that might help, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
“I will. Thank you, Agents,” he says. “And please….find her.”
“We’ll do everything we can.”
Astra and I head out of the building and walk across the campus. Our plan is to run down Selene’s stable of boyfriends. I don’t anticipate they’ll have anything of value. I don’t have the feeling anything at the school is at the center of her disappearance, but you never know. In any investigation, things can turn on a dime.
“What’s your read on the good doctor?” Astra asks.
“I honestly don’t know. He’s tough to get a read on.”
She nods. “But he looked pretty startled when we first walked in.”
“I think he was just worried we were going to shut down his co-ed pipeline,” I say with a laugh.
“That guy is living the dream of every middle-aged man out there,” she replies. “Unlimited access to gorgeous co-eds who treat you like a rock star.”
I shrug. “Well, he’s an intelligent, good-looking guy who’s charismatic as hell. That’s like catnip to college girls, especially ones with daddy issues,” I tell her. “I remember having a crush on one of my psych professors back in school.”
“You know what’s messed up? How come ‘daddy issues’ is always used as an insult against women when it’s usually the man’s fault for having treated them poorly, or not having been in their lives?” Astra points out. “It’s totally sexist. Of course, that experience will give you ‘issues’.”
“You know what, you’re right,” I admit. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Point, Russo.”
“Anyway, guys like Crawford can always pick those girls out of a crowd and foster those issues,” I say. “Guys like him make better profilers than we do sometimes.”
“You ain’t lyin’,” she says with a laugh.
“Come to think of it, didn’t you tell me once about that English pro—”
“Blake!” Astra cuts me off with a playful slug to my shoulder. “You promised you wouldn’t bring that up anymore.” Her eyes are lit up somewhere between irritation and laughter. “I’ll admit that some of my choices in the past were never exactly….wise.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I chuckle.
Astra raises both hands as if in surrender. “All right, I’ll admit it. There was a time in my life when I’d have been right there in that line, too.”
“Point, Wilder.”
I laugh as we head into the registrar’s office to see if we can get a fix on Selene’s boyfriends. I just have the feeling these guys are going to be a lot like Brooke Dawes, meaning this is going to be a very long day.
Eleven
Lecture Suite 231, Holbrook Hall, Marchmont University; Seattle, WA
Using the school ID photo we got from the registrar, we watch the crowd of students flow out of the room. We’ve struck out on the first three guys on the list. None of them had anything very interesting or useful to say. What’s clear was that they were all narcissistic, sexist pigs who think women exist only to be their playthings. It’s not an unusual mindset for the sons of wealthy CEOs and elites. And soon enough, they’ll be running boardrooms of their own. The thought makes me want to vomit.
The upshot of what we got from them is that they liked to party with Selene—and they definitely enjoyed sleeping with her. They were all shocked and upset to hear she’d gone missing—mostly because it meant they wouldn’t get a chance to sleep with her again. They weren’t interested in her as a person. They were only into her for what she could do with, and for, them behind closed doors.
None of the guys we’ve spoken to so far has been what I’d consider a decent guy. That’s why I’m not expecting to get much from Ryan Bancroft—he’s very likely just another one of these spoiled rich kids with little-to-no regard for anybody other than himself.
When the classroom clears and he still hasn’t come out, Astra and I wander into the room. We see him talking to the professor at the desk in the front of the room. I double-check the photo the registrar gave us, then give Astra a nod.
“That’s him,” I mutter.
She nods in return, and we wait until the professor says goodbye to Ryan. He gives us an odd look on his way out the door. Ryan is loading things into his backpack and doesn’t seem to realize we’re standing here.
“Ryan Bancroft?” I ask.
He turns and gives us both the elevator eyes, a smarmy smile on his face. “That all depends on who’s asking.”
Astra and I both flash our badges, and the smirk on his face slips for a moment. But he quickly recovers as he slings his backpack casually over his shoulder. To me, Ryan Bancroft is average. At best. He’s about five-nine with pale skin, short dark hair, and green eyes. Other than his
dressing in high-priced designer brand-names, there’s really nothing all that special or distinctive about him. He’s nondescript. The sort of guy you’d forget five minutes after meeting him. Or at least, I would.
And yet, he’s brimming with this self-possession and sense of confidence that seems totally at odds with his physical appearance. He’s thin and kind of stringy looking; he’s definitely never going to be an underwear model or pro athlete. But he carries himself with the kind of conviction that says he’s the best thing since sliced bread. I’m sure it’s a confidence born of the wealthy lifestyle he grew up in, having everything handed to him on a silver platter, with nobody’s ever saying no to him. It’s kind of impressive in a way.
“Agents Wilder and Russo,” I say in my best authoritative voice.
“Well, what can I do for you ladies?” he asks.
“Selene Hedlund,” I say. “We understand you were seeing her.”
His grin widens. “Oh yeah, the Omniwhore,” he says with a chuckle. “Yeah, I was seeing her. If you want to call it that, anyway.”
“The Omni—what?” I ask, anger flashing through me.
He laughs as though it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “I have no idea who coined it, but it fits,” he says. “The simple fact is Selene got around. She slept with anybody—guys, girls, it didn’t matter. Certified freak, seven days a week, that’s for sure. So, somebody nicknamed her the Omniwhore. You know, it’s a play on the word ‘omnivore’—”
“Yeah, I got that,” I cut him off. “I’m just disgusted by it and don’t see the least bit of humor in it at all.”
Ryan’s smile slips slightly, but he stands up straight and looks me in the eye. “I admit, it’s a little lowbrow as far as humor goes, but regardless, it’s a fairly accurate description.”
“Tell me something,” Astra starts. “Why is it a guy like you can sleep with however many women he wants and be considered a stud, but when a woman has a healthy sexual appetite, she gets hit with a foul and disgusting nickname like that?”
That seems to stop him short. He opens his mouth to reply, but then closes it again without saying a word. He doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that.
“You know, maybe if you didn’t act like such a repugnant, spoiled little rich kid who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, you wouldn’t have to rely on your family name and money to pressure a troubled woman into bed,” Astra growls at him.
“Whatever,” he mutters, his expression darkening. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.”
I cut Astra a look, telling her to take it down a couple of notches. We want to push him a bit, but not too hard. We don’t want him storming out of the room until we’ve gotten answers to our questions. He frowns and looks at us as if a thought only just occurred to him. Frankly, he’s so self-absorbed, I’m surprised he had a thought that wasn’t about himself at all.
“Wait. Why are you guys asking about Selene?” he asks.
“She’s missing,” I say. “We’re investigating her disappearance.”
“Missing?” he replies. “What do you mean she’s missing?”
“We mean she’s missing. Not here. Possibly abducted,” Astra says. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
His face pales and he suddenly seems to realize what we’re asking him. Ryan clears his throat and tries to smooth his features and gather himself again. His success is limited.
“You don’t think I had something to do with her disappearance, do you?” he asks.
“Did you have something to do with her disappearance, Ryan?” I ask.
“No. I did not. I wouldn’t,” he says, his voice quavering. “I—I like her. A lot.”
It’s a surprising admission—and to me, it sounds sincere. He actually looks rattled by the fact that she’s missing. His whole smarmy-rich-kid persona is scrapped for the moment.
“You like her and you call her names like that?” I ask. I know I just told Astra to cool it, but I can’t help it.
Ryan makes a sort of non-committal grunt sound and looks away, covering his mouth but not answering the question.
“Do you know if she was having trouble with anybody?” Astra asks.
He meets her gaze and shakes his head. “If she was, she never mentioned anything to me.”
“Do you know of anybody who threatened her? Anybody who would want to hurt her?”
“No, of course not,” he replies. “She was well-liked.”
“Yeah, you made that abundantly clear,” I say.
“No, not like that,” he snaps, sounding defensive. “People genuinely liked her. As a person. She was nice. Kind. She got along with most everybody.”
“Enough for people to call her the Omniwhore?” I raise an eyebrow.
Again, he covers his mouth and looks away without answering.
“Was she acting any differently lately?” Astra asks. “Any personality changes?”
He pauses for a moment, but then nods. “Now that you mention it, yeah,” he replies. “She was a bit quieter than usual and didn’t party as often. And when she did, she never went home with anybody. That was pretty unusual.”
“And what did you make of it?” I ask.
Ryan shrugs. “Honestly? I kind of thought she found somebody she was being serious with. As in, an actual boyfriend, instead of a friend with benefits. It started a few weeks back. She didn’t want to hang out with me—or anybody. That and she started disappearing at odd hours,” he says. “At least, that’s what Brooke said. She told me she’d wake up in the middle of the night and find Selene gone. If she ever bothered coming home in the first place.”
I couldn’t help but hear the twinge of jealousy in his voice. The façade he keeps up is beginning to crumble. It would be adorable if not for his other less cute, more toxic traits.
“A boyfriend instead of somebody like you. Somebody who could scratch her itch, huh?” Astra says. “That must have burned your butt.”
He hesitates but then nods. “Yeah. Somebody like me. And no, it didn’t burn my butt,” he says, regaining a little bit of his swagger. “There are plenty of women on this campus who would give anything to bed me.”
“Hate to burst your bubble,” Astra says. “But when you’re sleeping with them, they’re actually thinking about all the money your family has. Not you.”
He frowns and looks down at the ground for a minute. I can see that Astra’s words are striking their target and Ryan is feeling pretty low right about now. Good. I hope he feels really, really low. He deserves it.
“All right, well, do you know of anywhere she might go if she wanted to unplug and get away from everything for a while?” I ask.
He gives it a little thought then shakes his head. “I don’t. We weren’t exceptionally close,” he says. “I mean, what we had wasn’t really—deep. Or meaningful. It was just two people scratching an itch without much conversation. You know?”
“Yeah,” Astra says. “I’m hearing that a lot.”
“So, you don’t know of anybody she had a beef with. Nobody who wanted to hurt her. And you don’t know where she might go to unplug,” I say.
“No idea whatsoever,” he says. “You’re going to find her, right? She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
“We hope so,” I say. Then, “OK, Ryan, as you seem to know Selene so well, let me ask: what about booze and drugs?”
“She wasn’t a druggie, if that’s what you mean,” he says. “I saw her drink a bit in the clubs a couple times a week, maybe a little weed, but she wasn’t any worse than anyone else on campus, and not as bad as most.”
He sighs and continues. “Listen, all that stuff I said….I didn’t really mean it,” he says. “As I said, I really like her. I just….when you’re a guy in my position—”
“Save it. I don’t care what position you’re in,” I say. “Being as disrespectful and as horribly sexist as you’ve been is a choice. Treating Selene like you have is a choice. It doesn’t matter
who you are or what position you think you’re in. You wake up every day with the choice to either be a decent person or not. That’s up to you.”
“Make better choices,” Astra adds.
We turn and walk out of the lecture hall. We’ve gotten everything we’re going to get from him, which, sadly, isn’t much—other than the bit about Selene’s personality changing. The thought that she was seeing somebody a little more seriously. It jibed with what Brooke thought, which lends a little more credence to it in my mind.
But we still haven’t been able to track down Spencer Paul, and I want to talk to him before we head over to Selene’s apartment and then back to the shop. Based on what we’ve gotten from Selene’s boyfriends so far, I’m not expecting much from him. But we need to cover all our bases and do our due diligence.
We’re in that frustrating stage of the investigation right now. All we have are disparate parts, with no clear direction of how to put them all together. I’m anxious to find a focus to our investigation, but we’re just not there yet. It’s exasperating to be sure, but it’s as I told Rosie—it’s still early days. All we need is to find the one thing that will point us in the right direction. And I’m hoping against hope it’ll be back at the shop when we get there.
Twelve
The Olympic Luxury Condominiums; Seattle, WA
The doorman holds the door for us, and I give him a nod of thanks as we step into the lobby of the luxury condo building Selene called home. The pristine floor is a very expensive-looking marble, and the lobby has a distinctive art deco motif. With the zig-zagging lines along the ceiling, the geometrical shapes all around us, and the vibrant colors, it’s something straight out of the 1920s. Period art hangs on the walls all around us, making the lobby almost look like a show gallery. It’s beautiful, actually.
Astra whistles low. “Wow. This place is something else.”
