Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page A

professor bellowed.
    “Here goes.” She reached for the handle and appeared as if she was going to be ill. It was the first sign she gave of feeling uneasiness.
    The white-haired, sixty-something professor sat behind a standard wooden desk. For the funding the school received it should have been made of fine mahogany. His head angled at the sight of them, his pen poised over paper. “What can I do for you? I’m assuming parents of one of my failing students?” He gestured toward the chair across from him.
    There was only one.
    “You take it, darling,” Sean said. After she sat, he responded. “We’re not parents, but we’re here about Halie Davenport.”
    “Halie?” His thick eyebrows narrowed downward as he looked at each of them. “You’re not her parents though?”
    “We’re here on behalf of her parents.”
    “Ah, this has something to do with politics then? Waste of your breath with me.” The professor resumed scribbling on the paper in front of him, giving them a good view of his balding crown.
    “Please, Professor. We’re not here with any agenda except to ask a few questions.”
    Sara’s soft tone must have worked because Harland looked up.
    “Questions about what exactly?”
    “How is she doing in class these days?”
    Sean listened as Sara took over the reins of the conversation, her questions getting to the heart of what they needed to find out, without disclosing they feared the girl was missing, or worse, dead somewhere.
    Harland dropped his pen to his desk and clasped his hands. He let out a sigh. “How sad when one’s own parents can’t come by to ask these questions. I understand the mayor lives seven hours away, but even a phone call would suffice for the purpose of such an inquiry.”
    “If you would kindly answer our questions. We went into your last class, one to which Halie is enrolled, but she wasn’t there. Is it normal for her skip class?”
    “Please elaborate on who you two are.”
    “Excuse us for that. I’m Sara McKinley and this is Sean, my husband.” Sara rose from her chair to shake the professor’s hand.
    “All right, now I have your names, but it still doesn’t really make a difference. Why did Mr. Davenport send you?”
    Sean unclipped his cell and extended it to the man. “Please, if it would put your mind at ease to clear this conversation with him, by all means, I can put you through.”
    His eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, hesitancy lacing his retinas. Eventually he sat back, cleared his throat. “That’s fine. Let’s not bother him. She’s a terrific student, one of my best, and she would never miss a class unless it was for a very good reason.”
    “When did you last see her? Has she been in class this week?”
    “Come to think of it, no. She must be sick. There’s a lot going around.”
    “So, she’s missed class for illness before?”
    “No. Yes. I’m not exactly sure. Did you check in on her dorm room, speak with her roommate?”
    “We’re here talking to you right now about her standing in your class. We can catch up with her later,” Sean interjected a subtle twist of the truth. “Besides if she found out we were sent by her father, she wouldn’t be too happy.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you are right. So now you’ve come and asked your question, if that will be all.” He picked up the pen again.
    “Actually, we do have more questions for you.”
    To Sean, his eyes read oh goody , but it didn’t stop him from raising another inquiry. “What are her friends like?”
    “Her friends are average students. Their minds are nothing like hers.”
    “Can we have their names?”
    Harland rolled his eyes but then proceeded with writing on a sheet of paper. He extended it to Sean.
    There were three names on the list.
    “She wasn’t the most social butterfly was she?”
    “Like I alluded to before, if you were listening, she’s a brilliant student.”
    Sean nodded. “No last names?”
    “Also, not necessary. All of