by PJ Fernor
“I know,” Ben said.
I watched as he reached with his right hand toward me.
My body stiffened and I wasn’t sure what to do if he actually touched my hand.
His phone rang before any of that could happen.
“I need to get this,” he said. “It’s Sandra.”
“Okay,” I said.
“She’s watching Dad. I mean, working…”
“Ben. Answer the call.”
Ben swallowed hard before answering the call.
“Hey, Sandra,” he said.
That sounded so forced and dry to me. Meaning he probably had a nickname for her.
Sweetie? Babe? Love? Honey buns?
I gritted my teeth.
I could not lose myself in jealousy.
Plus, I had Jerry.
We weren’t dating or in a relationship, which was perfect for me.
Things were casual. Enjoyable.
He was a good looking man. And behind a closed bedroom door, he was…
“That’s fine,” Ben’s voice boomed, scaring me. “Whatever you think we should do for him. If things get too hectic, call me again. I can try to talk to him. But I’m a bit of way’s away here. We’re, uh, going after a lead…”
Ben’s eyes looked to me for a split second.
Now he was talking to Sandra, the girlfriend. Not Sandra, his father’s nurse.
“Well, just so you know, Ricky passed away ten years ago. He was in a car accident. But if he keeps asking, you can tell him Ricky went back to Texas. Which is a true statement. He went to take care of his grandmother on her ranch. He fell in love with the daughter of another ranch owner. Sounded like a story out of a romance novel.” Ben laughed. “Yeah, right. Okay. Thanks for calling. Thanks for being there. You too, Sandee…”
The way he said that made me look at him.
Ben’s cheeks turned a little red.
He ended the call.
“Sandee?” I asked.
“It’s a joke,” he said.
“Okay.”
I smiled.
“Allie, stop,” he said.
“I didn’t say a word, Ben,” I said.
“Dad is having a rough time today. He keeps talking about an old friend. Now, when he gets on a subject he won’t let it go. He gets mean. Really mean.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
We remained in silence for the rest of the ride to the campus.
When we arrived, we entered through the big, white main doors of the registrar’s office.
Sitting behind the desk was a young woman, no older than Nikki and Chelsea.
Every young woman I saw I compared to them.
The contrast in their lives was scary to think about.
How one small bend in the road of life took Nikki and Chelsea to live under that bridge to meet their fate, while a different one brought this young woman behind the desk to have an education and a chance at a decent life.
Ben took his badge out. “I’m Detective Ben Welloski. This is Detective Allie Down. We need to talk to-”
“Wow,” the young woman cut in. “This is just like on TV. This is real?”
“It’s real,” I said. “We need to speak to someone about an incident on campus that happened a long time. Ten years ago.”
“Wow,” the young woman said again. “That’s a long time ago.”
“I just said that,” I said. “We don’t have time to waste. Can you please…”
Behind the young woman an office door opened.
Out stepped a man in a plaid type suit.
He looked at Ben and me, then took his glasses off.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
“They’re detectives,” the young woman said.
“And you are?” Ben asked the man.
“Dean Richard Evertine.” He walked to the desk and shook hands with Ben. “How can I help you?”
“We’re here about something that happened ten years ago,” I said. “Does the name Carla Bruchen mean anything to you?”
Richard cleared his throat. “You’re here about that?”
“We are,” Ben said.
“Wait,” the young woman said. “Are you talking about Crazy Carla? And the professor that disappeared?”
“Kayla, please,” Richard snapped. “This isn’t the time or place for old campus rumors.”
I put my hands to the desk and grinned. “I’m actually in the mood for an old campus rumor.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
“Can we step into my office?” Richard offered.
“I’m fine right here,” Ben said. “Kayla seems to know more than you do.”
“What she’s referring to is a silly rumor,” Richard said. “The equivalent of finding Bigfoot. Or some story of a monster in the snow. Okay? There are plenty of stories to go around for every town, college, and person.”
“But this one seems interesting,” I said. “So, Kayla, please… indulge us.”
Kayla looked at Richard.
She was bright red in the face.
Richard was annoyed.
“Well, go ahead and tell them,” Richard said. “I’m not sure how this is going to help matters. I’m not even sure why you’re here asking about something that happened a decade ago.”
“We’ll get to that part next,” Ben said.
“Kayla,” I said.
She nodded. “Uh, sure. I just heard the basic story. There was a girl named Carla. And she was kind of crazy. She liked to party a lot and would end up in trouble. She would wake up in different places around campus. I think we were told the story as a way to be reminded that underage drinking is bad.”
“Or excessive drinking if you’re of age,” Ben said.
“Which I am,” Kayla said. “And I do not drink heavily. My grandfather was an alcoholic.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Go on with the story.”
“Crazy Carla just kept getting worse. And then one day she vanished. Some said she ran into the woods and died and was never found. Some said she got so drunk she hurt herself. There was one story that said she was kidnapped and sold.”
I looked at Ben.
His nostrils flared.
“Nobody really knows what’s real or not,” Kayla said. “That’s why it’s a story. Right?”
“What about the professor?”
“That was a completely different-”
“Let her finish,” Ben said, cutting Richard off.
Richard folded his arms. “This is a waste of time.”
“Then Kayla better hurry,” I said.
“I don’t know,” she stammered. “There was another rumor that a professor disappeared right around that time. That he just left. Like, he left everything on his desk and all. Then there was another story-”
“That’s quite enough,” Richard cut in. “Now, detectives, with respect, I’m not sure what you want from us, but I am not going to stand here and go through these nonsense stories.”
“Kayla, do you like coffee?” Ben asked.
“Of course.”
Ben reached into his pocket and slide a five dollar bill across the desk. “Go take a fifteen minute break. Our treat.”
She looked at Richard.
He nodded.
Kayla shrugged and left.
“Now we can talk,” Ben said.
“I’m not sure I-”
“Yes, you can help,” I said. “Carla was kidnapped. She was assaulted. She was almost sold. All of which was true.”
“Nothing ever came of it,” Richard said.
“You swept it under the rug,” I said.
“Me personally?”
“The college did,” Ben said.
“I’m not sure what you want me to do or say. The police were called. An investigation was conducted. There was nothing ever found. No evidence. Nobody at the party or after could verify anything Carla said.”
“You know, your tone is getting on my nerves,” I said. “You bl
ame her, don’t you?”
“She was underage and drinking heavily. She was drunk. Did you know the mark on her head was consistent with someone tripping and falling into a wall?”
“That’s weak,” Ben said.
“We did our job here. So did the police. We even had a heavy police presence on this campus and all of our other ones,” Richard said. “Nothing was found.”
“And Carla was victimized,” I said. “She left.”
“She went to get herself help,” Richard said. “Once again, what does this have to do-”
“The missing professor,” Ben said. “What’s that about?”
“Another farfetched story,” Richard said. “We had a professor who was involved in a relationship with a student. That’s what happened. The student was twenty years old. Nothing happened that was illegal, but for our college and our image, we did not appreciate what was happening.”
“Was this student Carla?” I asked.
“No,” Richard said. “That’s why this is such nonsense. What happened with Carla… I’m not sure what else I can say. Everything that needed to be done we did. There was an investigation and nothing was found.”
“So you just stopped believing her?” I asked. “You swept it away?”
“You keep saying the word swept,” Richard said. “And I take personal offense to that. What more could we have done?”
“I’m sure we can have a talk about that,” I said.
“So you had two scandals in one year?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” Richard said. “Which is why we went through a name change and a bit of rebranding of our campus. We made it safer and quieter. We made sure everyone - professors and students - understood our code of ethics, and quite frankly, anyone who goes against it will be removed. Which is what happened with that professor. He and that student were asked to leave campus. Which they did. He left his office as-is which began the rumors that he disappeared. Everyone loves a story, Detective. A good story. A bad story. A love story. A scary story. That’s not what this is.”
“Sounds like you were busy at that time,” Ben said.
“Very. But I believe in this campus and our students. I’m not going to let a few issues take away our mission here.”
“Let me ask you something, Richard,” I said. “Did you believe Carla?”
“Of course I did,” Richard said. “The story was shocking.”
“The story?” I asked. “You mean, the reality?”
“Detectives, this is where I’m going to have to walk away,” Richard said. “I’ve talked to you. I’ve answered your questions. You still have yet to tell me why you’re here and what’s happening. I’ve been more than cooperative. I’m sure you have all the necessary files and paperwork about Carla. The professor situation wasn’t even worth covering. Other than the campus paper, which was merely an opinion piece that helped to make students understand there’s a fine line in the relationship with a professor.”
“We appreciate your time,” Ben said. “Hope we didn’t irritate you too much.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Richard said. “I will also ask that you do not bother anyone on campus. Kayla included. Come back with a reason and a warrant if you need something else.”
“You might see us again then,” I said.
“Have a good day,” Richard said.
He stormed into this office and slammed the door.
I looked at Ben.
“He was cheery,” he said.
“Why do I feel like I’m sinking in mud and each time I try to step out, I just step deeper into mud?” I asked.
Ben smiled. “You should have worn boots today, Allie Down.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
As we walked back to Ben’s car, I looked around the campus. It was a typical picturesque kind of campus in the autumn. College students walking around, some in pairs and groups, some alone with earbuds in their ears. Most in hoodies. The bright colors of the leaves - on the ground and still dangling from the trees - gave that allure of learning, happiness, and a touch of innocence that some still had in their lives.
It pained me to think that something so horrible could have happened to Carla.
“What’s next?” Ben asked me.
“First, we get off this campus. Then I sit and think for a minute.”
“You got it,” he said.
When we got to his car, I looked around one last time.
As I sat down in the passenger seat, Ben started the car and looked at me. “So what if everything Richard just said was true?”
“About?”
“Everything. They did their investigation. The police did their job. Nothing came of it. Nothing else happened either. It seems so… odd.”
“Are you suggesting I was mean to Richard?” I asked.
“Hardly. It amazes me that Carla’s story became the bigger story here.”
“And that professor story… right around the same time,” I said.
“It’s intriguing,” Ben said.
“How far off the path of Nikki’s murder can we go?” I asked. “Because I feel like we’re miles away.”
“Or circling around to make sense of it all,” he said.
“So Carla is attacked and almost sold,” Ben said. “Nothing comes of the investigation. The police back off. The college backs off. Carla leaves for good.”
“Like it never happened,” I said.
“Nothing else happens though. Then you have a situation where a professor and student are caught in a relationship and the college tells them both to just leave. And they comply. He left everything behind, which led to the rumor of him disappearing.”
“Again, like it never happened,” I said. “Like the professor didn’t exist. That’s what this place does.”
“They do that for the image and safety of the students.”
“You think they’re safe?” I asked.
“Don’t get mad at me,” Ben said. “I’m just asking questions.” He sighed. “So is it possible that whoever tried to sell Carla had it planned out but then called it off after she escaped? And that’s somehow tied to the young women under the bridge…”
“Which ties right into Nikki,” I said. “Maybe what Garrison said is right. That Nikki fought back and was murdered. Maybe she got sick of it. Maybe she got plucked from somewhere and got sick of being forced into that life.” I touched my forehead. “But it goes deeper, Ben. There’s younger girls. I saw one myself at Martha’s house. She played it off… and then she ended up dead.”
“If this is as twisted as we think, this is going to be huge,” Ben said. “We’re going to need some extra help too. It’s not just going to be us. Or even Johnny. This is going to explode.”
“Not until we have proof,” I said.
“Where do we go now?” Ben asked.
“Just start driving back to the Sandemor. Maybe we should go through all the notes again. Worst case, we go down to the bridge. I hate to say this, Ben, but it might be time to start rounding those young women up. Bring them in for questioning. Try to push at them. Someone has to know something. Someone has to say something.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Ben said.
“If we don’t get something concrete soon…”
I let my voice trail off. I didn’t need to finish the sentence.
As the college campus moved into the rearview mirror, I took my phone out of my pocket and began to search.
Richard had mentioned something about a college run newspaper.
It took me a minute to find the newspaper online.
It was a small publication, now all online, just for the students to read. College style journalism, with everything from current events to business to politics all the way to fashion advice, events, and a decent sized comics section. Everything written, drawn, and published by students at the college.
I clicked on the archives button at the bottom of the site and was prompted with a search box.
I typed in Carla’s n
ame and her story came up.
There were several of them actually.
Two were well researched articles while two others were opinion pieces.
One called for better security for the campus.
The other spoke of the dangers of drinking too much alcohol at a young age. That piece implied what happened to Carla wasn’t accurate based on her story.
I went back to the search box and typed in missing professor.
A bunch of results popped up, looking for both words not necessarily together.
I filtered it based on age, going for the oldest first.
That was where I struck gold.
Where Did Professor Mills Vanish To?
I clicked the article and started to read.
“Ben,” I said. “This is interesting. A campus run story about the professor.”
“Anything we can use?” he asked.
“It says here he was a professor at the college for five years. He taught philosophy. He was a quiet and secluded kind of person, but you’d never forget him. He was known for his well-kept facial hair, smile and eyes. Rumors always swirled about him and students, but nothing was ever proven.” I kept reading. “Everyone called him Bill Mills. They knew him as Professor Bill Mills. And then one day he just vanished. Students showed up to a class and he wasn’t there. A few went to his office and found everything in place as though he was there. That included his coffee, his bag, everything. So it was like he vanished.”
“Yet Richard said he was told to leave,” Ben said.
“Him and the student,” I said. “So this was where the story came from then. The creepy story told to everyone about the missing professor. Fueled by the lack of information and truth from the college itself. Even if they update their policies and make it well known about professors and students together. This is crazy, Ben. It almost makes…”
My voice was instantly gone.
I grabbed the door handle to the car.
“Allie?” Ben asked.
I opened the door as Ben was driving.
“Allie!” Ben yelled.
“Stop the car,” I said. “Right now. Stop the car.”
Ben slammed on the brakes.
My eyes didn’t leave my phone.
I threw the door open and stepped out as the car came to a stop.
