Page 24 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
“We have reason to believe Hannah may have considered such services.”
“Hannah? Hannah Scriven? The daughter of Katherine and William Scriven?” Dean Chambliss shook his head in disagreement before standing from his chair. The leather monstrosity barely moved an inch due to the man’s gradual and controlled movements. “Impossible. Hannah Scriven was one of our most principled students.”
“Principle bends under pressure,” Alex said quietly. “And from what we understand, Hannah was under extraordinary pressure.”
“Do you have evidence that such activities are connected to this institution? If so, I need to know immediately. The integrity of our program?—”
“As you know, we're still investigating,” Alex interrupted as he stood and waited for Kinsley to do the same. “We appreciateyour cooperation, Dean Chambliss. We'll be in touch if we need anything else.”
The walk back through the administration building passed in silence. When they emerged into the bright midday sun, Alex immediately replaced his sunglasses, the lenses providing blessed relief from the glare.
"That was quite impressive, partner.” There was genuine admiration in Kinsley’s voice. “The specific cases, years, everything. Look at you, hungover and still able to kick ass at your job.”
“I wish I could take the credit, but I ran into your brother outside the station this morning while waiting for you. Noah’s an attorney. He took the bar, so I figured he would have some personal insight. He rattled off those cases and even mentioned that they're studied in legal ethics courses now.”
“Noah was at the station this morning?”
Alex wasn’t so hungover that he couldn’t detect the way Kinsley abruptly stilled her motions. She searched his face for an answer when he didn’t immediately reply.
“Across the street. He was meeting someone at Carol’s, though I didn’t ask who. Something I should know about?”
“No, no,” Kinsley said, brushing off his question. “He usually calls me when he’s on our side of town. Okay, so…what’s our next move? You want to question the professors? See if any of them picked up on Hannah’s stress level or noticed any changes in her behavior toward the end of the semester?”
“Sounds good,” Alex said as he reached for the folder. He opened it to scan the list of names and buildings. “I take it that you’re heading over to the apartment building and bar?”
“I doubt that Bailey is working today, but I’ll stop in anyway. She’s our ticket to the woman offering her services to the female students on campus.”
Alex nodded in agreement, his shaded gaze drifting across the grounds. Some summer session students were lounging on benches, while others sprawled across patches of grass. A few were lost in their studying, while some appeared relaxed in ways that had clearly escaped Hannah Scriven.
“Meet back here in a couple of hours?”
“Works for me.” Kinsley hesitated, taking the time to study him. He didn’t appreciate the observation. “Are you sure you're good to interview the professors with that hangover? You look like you might vomit on their shoes.”
“I'm touched by your concern,” Alex replied dryly. “I'll be fine. The Excedrin has finally kicked in. One of us needs to stop in at the library, too. Jade Patel works there part-time, so maybe someone there has information on her friendship with Hannah.”
“We also have that interview with Nick Ryder this afternoon,” Kinsley pointed out as she removed her sunglasses from the top of her head to settle on the bridge of her nose. “He’s coming into the station around three o’clock. If Hannah had seriously been considering hiring someone else to take the bar exam for her back then, what are the odds that she told her boyfriend at the time?”
9
Alex Lanen
July
Friday — 10:32 am
The north wing of the building was a maze of identical hallways, with classroom doors spaced at regular intervals, much like cells in a prison block. Alex's temples still throbbed with a persistent ache, but it was lessening with each passing minute. He was hoping the discomfort would be completely gone by lunchtime.
Professor Patty Bigsby, however, clutched a stack of papers to her chest like they contained state secrets. A constant hum of anxiety radiated off her in waves, but it wasn’t due to his questions regarding Hannah Scriven. In his opinion, being high-strung was simply part of the professor’s demeanor.
“As I mentioned, Detective Lanen, Hannah was a gifted student,” Professor Bigsby reiterated, her voice clipped and efficient. “She should have gone on to have a very successful career.”
“Can you tell me specifically about her performance last semester in your Business Law course?” Alex resisted the urge to unfasten the top button of his dress shirt. The air conditioning couldn't quite combat the summer heat seeping through the large windows, and the mingled scents of coffee, stale perfume, and photocopier toner made his stomach churn slightly. “According to Dean Chambliss, Hannah was in the top fifteen percent of her class.”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Bigsby’s high heels clicked rhythmically against the polished floor. “Hannah was exceptionally diligent. She never missed an assignment, and her research was always on point.”
Alex noted the woman's frequent glances at her watch—the third time in two minutes—and the way she maintained a precise half step ahead of him, as if physically trying to outpace his questions. Her black pantsuit seemed expensive but practical, much like the severe bob haircut that framed her narrow face.
Alex deliberately slowed his pace to force her to match him.
