“In the beginning. But not so much in recent years, no.”

“Why not?” I asked. “I mean, well, the same question you asked me: Why now?”

Again they exchanged a glance. Mulholland said to Telesco, “Tell him.”

Telesco looked at me. “We stopped looking for her because we were sure that she was dead.”

I had somehow expected that answer. “Why did you think that?”

“It doesn’t involve you. You need to help us here.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“If you tell us what you know,” Telesco said, her voice suddenly hard, “we forget all about Otto.”

Benedict: “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means? Your client claims self-defense.”

“So?”

“You asked about the cause of death. Here’s your answer: He snapped a man’s neck. I have news for you. A broken neck is rarely the result of self-defense.”

“First off, we deny that he had anything to do with the death of this felon—”

She put her hand up. “Save it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You can make all the threats you want. I don’t know anything.”

“Otto didn’t believe that, did he?”

Bob’s voice: “Where is she?”

Mulholland leaned close to me. “Are you dumb enough to think this is the end of it? You think they’ll just forget about you now? They underestimated you the first time. They won’t do that again.”

“Who are ‘they’?” I asked.

“Some seriously bad men,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“That makes no sense,” Benedict said.

“Listen to me closely. They can find Natalie first,” Mulholland said, “or we can. It’s your choice.”

Again I said, “I really don’t know anything.”

Which was true enough. But more than that, Mulholland had left off one last option, much as it might seem like a long shot.

I could find her.

Chapter 24

Benedict drove. “You want to fill me in?”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“It’s a long drive. Speaking of which, where am I going to drop you off?”

Good question. I couldn’t go back to campus, not only because I was unwelcome, but as Detectives Mulholland and Telesco reminded me, some very bad people might be interested in finding me. I wondered whether Jed and Cookie were part of the same bad people as Bob and Otto or if I had two different groups of bad people after me. Doubtful. Bob and Otto were cool professionals. Grabbing me had been another day at the office. Jed and Cookie were bumbling amateurs—unsure, angry, scared. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I suspected that it was important.

“I’m not sure.”

“I’ll start back toward campus, okay? You fill me in on what’s going on.”

So I did. Benedict kept his eyes on the road, nodding every once in a while. His face remained set, his hands always at ten and two. When I finished he said nothing for several seconds. Then: “Jake?”

“Yes?”

“You need to stop this,” Benedict said.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“A lot of people want to kill you.”

“I was never popular to begin with,” I said.

“True enough, but you’ve stumbled into some serious doo-doo.”

“You humanities professors and your big words.”

“I’m not joking,” he said.

I knew that.

“These people in Vermont,” Benedict said. “Who were they?”

“Old friends, in a way. I mean, that’s the weirdest part. Jed and Cookie were both there the first time I met Natalie.”

“And now they want to kill you?”

“Jed thinks that I had something to do with Todd Sanderson’s murder. But I can’t figure out why he’d care or how he knew Todd. There has to be some connection between them.”

“A connection between this Jed guy and Todd Sanderson?”

“Yes.”

“The answer is obvious, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Natalie,” I said.

“Yep.”

I thought about that. “The first time I saw Natalie, she was sitting next to Jed. I even had a passing thought that maybe they were dating.”

“Well then,” Benedict said, “now it sounds like all three of you have something of a connection.”

“Meaning?”

“Carnal knowledge of Natalie.”

I didn’t like that. “You don’t know that for sure,” I protested weakly.

“May I state the obvious?”

“If you must.”

“I’ve known my share of women,” Benedict said. “At the risk of bragging, some might even call me an expert on the subject.”

I made a face. “Risk?”

“Some women are just trouble. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Trouble.”

“Right.”

“And I guess you’re going to tell me Natalie is one of these women.”

“You, Jed, Todd,” Benedict said. “No offense, but there is only one explanation for all this.”

“And that is?”

“Your Natalie is a big ol’ can of crazy.”

I frowned. We drove a little more.

“I have that guest cottage I use as an office,” Benedict said. “You can stay there until this all cools down.”

“Thank you.”

We drove a little more.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“We always fall harder for the crazy ones,” Benedict said. “That’s our problem as men. We all claim we hate the drama, but we don’t.”

“That’s deep, Benedict.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Sure.”

I thought I saw his grip tighten on the wheel. “How did you happen to see Todd’s obituary?”

I turned to face him. “What?”

“His obituary. How did you see it?”

I wondered if the confusion was showing on my face. “It was on the front page of the college website. What exactly are you trying to ask?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“I told you about it in my office—and you encouraged me to go down to the funeral, remember?”

“I do,” Benedict said. “And now I’m encouraging you to let this go.”

I didn’t reply. We drove for a while in silence. Benedict interrupted it.

“One other thing that’s bothering me,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“How do you think the police found you at Natalie’s sister’s house?”

I had wondered the same thing, but now I realized the answer was obvious. “Shanta.”

“She knew where you were?”

I explained about my calling her and my stupidity in keeping the disposable phone. If the police can track you by your phone, it stood to reason that if they knew the number (which would have popped up on Shanta’s caller ID), they could track you by a disposable phone too. I still had it in my pocket and debated chucking it out the window. No need. The cops weren’t the ones I was worried about anymore.

After President Tripp requested my departure, I had packed a suitcase and my laptop and stored them in my office at Clark House. I wondered whether someone might be, I don’t know, staking out my campus house or that office. It seemed like overkill, but what the heck. Benedict had the idea of having us park far away. We looked to see if there was anything suspicious. There wasn’t.

“We can send a student in to pick up your stuff,” he said.

I shook my head. “I already got one student hurt in this.”

“There’s no risk here.”

“Still.”

Clark House was closed. I carefully entered via the back entrance. I grabbed my stuff and hurried back toward Benedict’s car. No one shot me. Score one for the good guys. Benedict drove to the back of his property and dropped me off at the guest cottage.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I got a bunch of papers to grade. You’ll be all right?”

“Sure.”

“You should see a doctor about your head.”

I did have a residual headache. If it was from some kind of concussion, exhaustion, stress, or some combination of those, I had no idea. Either way I didn’t think a doctor could help. I thanked Benedict again and settled into the room. I took out my laptop and set it up on the desk.

It was time, I thought, to do some cyber-sleuthing.

You may wonder what qualifies me to be a top-notch investigator or how I would know how to cyber-sleuth. I’m not and I don’t. But I know how to type stuff in a Google search field. That was what I started to do now.