Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 194

"I'm on my way over there."

She searched the darkness, looking toward the library, but didn't recognize him in the groups of people hastening from one building to the next.

"Wait. I haven't gone in yet. Grotto had company. I'll tell you about it later. Where are you?"

"Just leaving the library." She squinted and recognized him hastening down the wide steps. He walked briskly under the security lights toward the English Department. Lamplight caught in his hair and she saw his expression was hard and intense.

"Good, then you can wait inside the doors of the English Department."

"Unless you want me closer. Like on the other side of the door to his office?"

"Only if you hear me say, 'I'm in trouble.' Then you can play Rambo to your heart's content."

He was now close enough to her that she knew he was looking at her. She gave him a little wave, then hurried into the brick building once more and down the steps. Before Jay could argue, she hit the mute b.u.t.ton again, tucked the phone in her pocket and, glancing up at the clock in the hallway, noted that it was almost ten minutes after her scheduled meeting. No time to lose. Not if she wanted to catch Grotto. Kicking it up a gear, she hurried down the hallway, half running, as if she were trying to make up for lost time.

Rounding the corner, she spied Dr. Grotto at the door to his office, locking up. Dressed in black slacks, T-s.h.i.+rt, and jacket, holding his briefcase in one hand, he looked ready to split.

"Oh! Dr. Grotto, I'm so sorry I'm late," she said in a rush, hoping her cheeks were flushed. "I had a phone call from my dad, and he held me up." She rolled her eyes. "He's just a little overprotective." Breathlessly she managed an apologetic smile. "I had to tell him I had an important meeting with you to get him off the phone."

"Unfortunately, I, too, have another meeting," Grotto said. Probably a lie, but she had no choice but to let it slide.

"I just need to talk to you for a minute or two. Really."

He studied her for a second, then unlocked the door again, straightening to his full height of six-two or-three. "I was about to give up on you, but I suppose I can spare one minute." His voice was calm, evenly modulated, as if he hadn't recently been a part of an intense argument.

He made a big show of checking his watch, trying to make her feel bad about being late, obviously already coming up with excuses to cut out of their meeting as fast as possible.

Fine. She'd make it quick.

"Have a seat." Waving her into a small rolling desk chair, he settled into a worn leather chair on the other side of a small black writing table and snapped on the desk lamp. The entire room was cramped, little more than a closet with a window cut high into the wall and a computer desk crammed into one corner. A bookcase covered one wall, every shelf filled to capacity with information on vampires, ghosts, werewolves, and anything the least bit paranormal.

"So, what can I do for you?" He folded his hands over the desk and stared at her with an intensity that, she suspected, was supposed to make her squirm. It did. His eyes were deep set and mesmerizing, his face all bladed angles, his mouth so thin it appeared a crease in a strong, sharp-cut jaw. A handsome man, he seemed used to banking on his looks and size to take control of the conversation.

She decided to play it straight. Kind of. "I wanted to talk to you about some of your students."

He c.o.c.ked his head, his hair glistening black in the lamplight. "It's against the policy of the college to give out information about anyone. I a.s.sume you know that."

"I'm talking about the ones who've gone missing," she said. "You remember? Dionne Harmon, Tara At.w.a.ter, Monique DesCartes, and Rylee Ames? All of them, while they were students here, were enrolled in your cla.s.s on vampyrism."

"I said I wouldn't discuss them."

"I'm just talking about their curriculum," Kristi forged on. "They were all English majors. They had many of the same cla.s.ses. Yours was one of them. It's a very popular elective."

"The most popular elective in the department," he agreed with a taut smile, his white teeth stark against his swarthy skin. He seemed to relax a bit. Except for the tiny, telltale tic that had developed near one eye. "Maybe even on campus."

"Even more than History of Rock and Roll."

"I couldn't say. Is this going somewhere, Ms. Bentz?"

"You were one of the last people to see Dionne Harmon alive."

He froze. "Are you saying she's dead? Did they find her body?" His cool facade cracked and something akin to panic washed over his face. "Dear G.o.d, I didn't know."

"I'm just saying that you were one of the last people to see her before she disappeared disappeared."

"Say what you mean the first time," he snapped. "That's a big difference. And yes, apparently I was one of the last people to see Dionne before she disappeared. But this is really no business of yours, is it, Miss Bentz? If you have some questions about your a.s.signments, or cla.s.s, please"-he waved in a "come on" gesture-"ask, but that's all I'll talk about." He no longer made any pretense at smiling. "I am a busy man."

"What do you know about a cult of people who wors.h.i.+p vampires? Here, on campus."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've never seen one of these before?" She dug beneath her turtleneck to flash the vial of blood.

He glared at the vial as if it were the embodiment of evil. "What is that?" he asked in little more than a whisper.

"A vial of blood. Human blood."

"Oh, G.o.d." He closed his eyes for a second and drew in a long breath. For a long time she didn't think he would answer, but then he surprised her by admitting, "I've seen it, or one like it."

"Where?"

"A student. Her name is O." He looked about to confide in Kristi, then shook his head. "I can't discuss her or anyone else. But I know she's very outspoken and wears the vial almost militantly."

That much was true. Kristi's own father had interviewed the girl on an earlier case and she had proudly shown off her unique jewelry.

"Where did you get that?" Grotto asked.

"I found it in my apartment."

"Your apartment apartment?"

"Tara At.w.a.ter used to live there."

"And you think it was hers?" he said, the corners of his mouth tightening, the temperature in the room seeming to drop ten degrees.

"I do. DNA will tell."

"You've had some of the blood tested?"

She nodded.

His gaze was cold. "If the police were going to run any tests, they would have taken the necklace. You're bluffing, Miss Bentz."

"I sent drops in...claimed they were my own. I have a friend who works in the lab."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Don't you care what happened to your students, Dr. Grotto?"

"They're runaways." He said it as if he believed it. Or as if he wanted to believe it.

"You think all four just left town? All four who attended your cla.s.s? All four who were English majors? All four just up and decided to take a hike? That's one h.e.l.luva coincidence, don't you think?"

"It's more common than you think. They're young and, from what I understand, troubled."

"And missing."

"It's possible something happened to them, I suppose, but far more likely that they took off." Grotto seemed torn between the desire to throw her out and a need to talk about the missing girls.

"Without a trace?" Kristi questioned skeptically.

"Ms. Bentz, even in today's world, if someone wants to disappear, it can be done. Maybe not forever, but for a while. I think all of the girls will turn up. When they want to."

"That's such bull," she said.

"Easy to say. You had a loving family, right? Father and mother who doted on you?"

She didn't respond, didn't want this turned on her. She refused to mention that her mother had died years ago in a single car accident and that her father, after pouring himself into a bottle, finally pulled himself together. Neither did she mention that she was adopted. The less Grotto knew about her, the better.

At that moment, his phone rang. Lucretia.

"Excuse me," he said. Into the receiver, "h.e.l.lo? Oh, yes...I'm on my way...sorry, running late. I'll be there in"-he checked his watch-"fifteen minutes...yes...bye." He hung up and stood, signifying the interview was over. "I really do have to go." He picked up his briefcase again, walked to the door and held it open.

She'd pushed it as far as she could.

And had come up with nothing.

"Say 'hi' to Lucretia for me," she said as they walked out, "and tell her I'd appreciate it if she'd return my calls."

He glared at her and in that second she witnessed the paling of his complexion. Had she hit a sensitive spot? But the blanching went further than just a moment's shock. Grotto's entire face bled of color and she had the distinct hit that he, like so many others she'd seen on campus, might soon be dead.

"What?" he asked when he found her staring at him.

"Be careful," she said, and saw the questions in his eyes. "I don't know what you're into, Dr. Grotto, or how deep, but it's dangerous."

He half laughed. "You've made up your own myth, haven't you?"

Had she?

She could tell him that he'd turned gray-a signal, she was certain, of impending death or doom. But he would just laugh at her some more, think she was a real whack job, just like Ariel had.

What had she expected? That he would turn over and spill his guts, tell her about some dark, demonic cult? Admit that he killed the girls and what-drank their blood? Or drank it first and then killed them?

Grotto locked his door. If she'd thought she was going to get some soul-cleansing confession from him and break the case wide open or even gain information for her d.a.m.ned book, she'd been sadly mistaken.

She climbed the stairs to the first floor and found Jay seated on a bench near the stairwell. Less than fifty feet from Grotto's door.

"Way to go, Sherlock," he said, and she tossed him a don't-mess-with-me look.

"You heard," she said as they walked through the front doors and a blast of cool winter air hit them.

"I heard that you took the vial in there, taunted him with it, screwed around with evidence!"

"I thought it might be effective."

"d.a.m.n it, Kris, that wasn't part of the deal."

"I should have told you," she admitted as they walked along the brick path where other students were busily crossing campus. Bikes and skateboards whipped past and a jogger with two dogs on a leash raced in the opposite direction.

"But if you had, you knew I wouldn't let you mess with it. What were you thinking?"

She wasn't about to try to make excuses. Instead, she said, "I thought you were supposed to be waiting outside."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to be a little closer, just in case."

"Of what? That he might attack me?"

Jay shrugged, his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. "Maybe. You did bait the h.e.l.l out of him." He took her arm, pulled her closer to him as a bicyclist cut through the quad. "From now on, no secrets. If we're in this together, we have to be honest with each other."

She nodded. "Okay."

He looked as if he didn't believe her, but he didn't release her arm as they walked briskly toward the student union. Jay pulled open the door and they stepped inside. A swell of warm air hit them and the sounds of laughter, music, and conversation filled the open area where students were hanging out, some studying, some plugged into iPods, others meeting friends. They seemed so innocent, so unaware of the evil that Kristi believed lurked in the crevices and corners of the campus.

Who would be next? she wondered, and thought of how pale Dr. Grotto had appeared. she wondered, and thought of how pale Dr. Grotto had appeared.

"Did you believe him?" Jay's voice brought her back to the moment.

"Grotto?" She shook her head. "He was hiding something." Despite the warmth of the low, well-lit building, she felt a whisper of cold deep in her heart. She looked up at Jay and saw that his eyes were troubled. "And he was lying through his fangs."

CHAPTER 25.

Jay sat in his office and, using a magnifying gla.s.s, studied a picture of the severed arm. He'd seen the real thing, of course, but it was being kept frozen in hopes the body from which it had been detached would be found. There were computer pictures as well, those that could be enhanced, but sometimes the old-fas.h.i.+oned way was most familiar.

He'd been in the lab for ten hours on Tuesday. It was nearly quitting time now and he was testy. Edgy. Hadn't felt right about returning to New Orleans despite Kristi's insistence the night before. She hadn't listened to any of his arguments, wouldn't consider living in his aunt's bungalow or even keeping his dog. She'd moved back to her apartment against all his protests. He was in constant contact with her, either by phone, text or e-mail, and so far she was all right.

So far.

So how will you feel if something happens to her?

He tried not to immediately go to the worst case scenario, but it was always there, looming in the background of his brain, ready to pounce on his consciousness again. He had to quit worrying about Kristi. As she'd told him time and time again, she was an adult. Could take care of herself. She swore that the idea her would-be video-taper might try to access her apartment didn't bother her. Said she almost welcomed it.

"Bulls.h.i.+t," he muttered, focusing again on a discoloration between the elbow and wrist.