"There's not a lot to straighten, considering you destroyed school property."
He shrugged again. "I'll pay for it."
"You will? Or your dad will?"
Again, he shrugged. "What does it matter? He'll make a donation or buy a couple of football uniforms and it'll all be over." He added, "Plus, you know, it's like you said—I was acting out." He grinned. "I'm really torn up about Adam, and then I find out my buddy's depressed and leaving school? Man, too much."
Faith clenched her jaw, trying not to let him know he had gotten to her. She opened the envelope and showed him Evan Bernard's photo. "Have you ever seen this man?"
The boy shrugged.
"Tommy, look at the photo."
He finally sat up on the couch and looked at the picture of Evan Bernard.
Faith asked, "Have you ever seen him?"
Albertson glanced up at her, then back at the photo. "Maybe. I don't know."
She had never in her life wanted so desperately to slap the truth out of anyone. "Which one is it?"
"I said I don't know."
She kept the picture out. "I need you to really look at this, Tommy. It's important. Does this man look familiar to you?"
He sighed, exasperated. "I guess. Was he on TV or something?"
"No. You would have seen him around campus. Maybe Adam or Gabe were with him?"
Albertson took the photograph from her and held it up, studying the face. "I don't know where I've seen him, but he looks familiar."
"Can you think about it some more?"
"Sure." He gave her the photo and slumped back on the couch.
Faith could not hide her irritation. "Now, Tommy. Can you think about it now?"
"I am," he insisted. "I told you, he looks familiar, but I don't know where I've seen him. He kind of reminds me of Han Solo. Maybe that's where I recognize him."
Faith slotted the picture back into the envelope, thinking she looked like Harrison Ford more than Evan Bernard did. "How about her?"
Albertson didn't have to be asked twice to look at Kayla Alexander. "Wow, she's fucking hot." He narrowed his eyes. "She's the chick who died, right?"
Faith knew that Alexander's photo had been all over television for the last three days.
He frowned, handing back the photo. "Man, that's sick, getting wood for a dead girl." When Faith did not take back the picture, he dropped it on the table, a sour expression on his mouth.
"You never saw her before?" Faith asked, tucking the photo back into the envelope.
He shook his head.
"Thanks a lot, Tommy. You've been a real big help." She stood up to leave.
"I can call you if I remember anything." He was smiling in a way that he obviously thought was charming. "Maybe give me your home number?"
Faith bit her lip so that she wouldn't say anything back. His lack of compassion was galling. She wanted to remind him that Emma Campano was still missing—possibly dead—that a boy who was his age and in his school, someone who had slept less than ten feet from him, had been brutally murdered and that a killer was still at large. Instead, she got up and walked across the room, making herself pull the door to gently so as not to give him the satisfaction.
She kept her hand on the closed door, willing herself to calm down. Victor and his secretary were watching her expectantly. She wanted to rail against the kid, to curse him for being such a heartless bastard, but she did not. It was a bit early in their relationship for Victor to see her bitchy side.
"So?" He stood with his hands in his pockets, his usual smile on his face. "Was he useful?"
"As much as a bag of hair," she told him. An idea occurred to her. "Did you search his room?"
"What for?"
Faith had thought it inconsequential at the time, but now she said, "For the pot I found in his sock drawer when I was searching Gabe Cohen's things last night."
Victor's smile widened. "Marty, if you could have campus security check into that?"
"Certainly." The secretary picked up the phone, giving Faith a look of approval.
Victor told Faith, "We have a strict policy on drugs. Automatic expulsion."
"I think that might be the best news I've heard all day."
"Here's some more: Chuck Wilson called back. He says he's got a pretty good guess on what your substance is. He's across the street at the Varsity if you want to go over and find him."
Faith felt a flash of heat in her face. She had put the stolen evidence in the back of her mind, treating it as an intangible thing, but now there was no turning away from what she had done.
"Faith?"
"Great." She made herself smile.
He opened his office door. "Are you sure you can't grab a quick bite? I know that fast food isn't very romantic..."
If Victor wasn't ready to see her bitchy side, he certainly didn't need to watch her wolfing down a chili steak sideways with a PC. "I appreciate the invitation, but I've got to meet my partner on this case."
"How's it going?" he asked, leading her to the building lobby and outside. "Any luck?"
"Some," she admitted, but wasn't more specific than that. Evan Bernard's arrest did not feel like an accomplishment when they still had no idea where Emma Campano was.
"It must be hard for you," he said, squinting in the sun as they walked past the football stadium. Large brick buildings were opposite; more student housing.
"The not knowing is hard," she admitted. "I keep thinking about the girl, what it must feel like for her parents."
He pressed his hand to the small of her back, indicating a one-way street on the right. Faith took the turn, and he continued talking. "I've dealt with a lot of students' problems over the years, but nothing like this. The whole campus feels tense. I can't imagine what it's like at the girls' school. We've lost students before, but never to violence."
Faith was quiet, listening to the soothing sound of his voice, enjoying the sensation of his touch through her thin cotton blouse.
"This way," Victor said, indicating where the sidewalk narrowed. A tall iron railing cut into the sidewalk, the ground sloping downward.
Faith stopped. They were about two blocks from the North Avenue bridge that crossed I-75 and led to the Varsity. "What's this?"
"You've never used the tunnel before?" Victor asked. She shook her head and he explained, "It's a shortcut under the interstate. I wouldn't use it in the middle of the night, but it's perfectly safe now." He took her hand as if to assure her—as if she didn't have a gun on her hip and the ability to use it.
He continued playing the part of tour guide as they walked. "The Varsity was founded by a Tech student by the name of Frank Gordy. He opened it mainly to service the school, but that's changed quite a bit over the years. We try not to let our students know Gordy dropped out of school in 1925 to start the restaurant. Between Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, it's hard enough to convince technology majors that there's actually a reason to complete your degree."
"You know I can't say anything," Faith commented. She'd told him last night that she had dropped out of college a year from graduating. Jeremy had inherited her love of math, and seeing him get his degree was more than enough.