forgotten they lived together.”
Erin heard the change in his tone. “You knew her, too?”
“She sought me out during the trial. Wanted to know the recommended reading on serial rapists and if I could suggest any current research papers concerning their psychology.”
Erin wasn’t surprised. Cassie had been driven to exonerate her boyfriend.
“I’m very sorry to hear she was involved,” the professor said softly. “She seemed genuinely convinced Hawke was innocent despite the compelling evidence to the contrary.” There was a long pause. “As to your other question, Mandy and I discussed the Hawke case on several occasions in class. It was an incredible teaching opportunity as you can imagine.”
She rolled her eyes because it was so much more than that.
“I used it as a demonstration about criminal behavior and how criminals are often viewed as a consequence of their social standing. Needless to say the discussion degenerated into a fight between how the quarterback of the Blackcombe Ravens could have any girl he wanted and didn’t need to rape to get sex versus football players are brainless meatheads too stupid and overindulged to understand a one-syllable, two letter word. I actually begin teaching material about serial rape next week. I expect the information will open some students’ eyes to aspects of the crime they assume they understand. If it doesn’t, they’re going to flunk.”
She had bigger things to worry about than narrow minds or failed grades. “Thanks for your help, Professor.”
“I keep telling you, call me Roman.”
The familiarity felt wrong, like calling the family priest by his first name. “Right. Well, if you think of anything else, feel free to give me a call.”
“It would help if I could review the case notes…”
Erin checked her rear view mirror. “I’ll talk to the FBI to see if we can consult with you on this one.”
“The FBI is involved? Already?” The professor sounded intrigued.
“Yeah.”
“That’s what happens when you have lots of wealthy parents and murdered co-eds.”
And an elite college whose enrollment was going to suffer as a consequence. She understood the stakes could be measured in dollars and lives—only the lives concerned her right now.
“I’ll get back to you.” Erin said goodbye and hung up.
She turned into the police station, Agent Singh following closely in his black rental SUV. She had a feeling he was going to be her own personal shadow until the powers that be decided whether or not to make her the sacrificial goat. Erin growled with frustration as she pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. She got out and leaned against the warm hood of her truck as she waited for the fed to join her. He walked toward her, all muscled grace and professional cool. Her mouth went dry.
Get a grip, Erin. He thinks you’re a cheating slut and is probably gonna get you fired.
He caught her gaze and raised a brow in question. She tried to keep her expression blank. The guy was gorgeous and looked more like an actor playing a role than a law enforcement officer with powers of arrest, but she didn’t let it fool her. People often dismissed her because she was young and blonde. It made getting the cuffs around those thick wrists that much more satisfying.
She led the way, grateful there were no reporters yet. They’d arrive soon enough like a plague of flies.
“It’s a long drive from Virginia,” she noted, walking up the stairs toward the red brick building.
“Flew in from Boston.”
“Murder case?”
He glanced at her sideways. “Suspected white slave ring.”
“You shut it down?”
“It’s ongoing.” He carefully avoided her gaze.
So he’d been pulled off that case to come here. Damn. Her mood soured further as she held open the door for him. “Well, we sure do appreciate you dropping everything and rushing here to help.” She didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
His glance flicked
Erin heard the change in his tone. “You knew her, too?”
“She sought me out during the trial. Wanted to know the recommended reading on serial rapists and if I could suggest any current research papers concerning their psychology.”
Erin wasn’t surprised. Cassie had been driven to exonerate her boyfriend.
“I’m very sorry to hear she was involved,” the professor said softly. “She seemed genuinely convinced Hawke was innocent despite the compelling evidence to the contrary.” There was a long pause. “As to your other question, Mandy and I discussed the Hawke case on several occasions in class. It was an incredible teaching opportunity as you can imagine.”
She rolled her eyes because it was so much more than that.
“I used it as a demonstration about criminal behavior and how criminals are often viewed as a consequence of their social standing. Needless to say the discussion degenerated into a fight between how the quarterback of the Blackcombe Ravens could have any girl he wanted and didn’t need to rape to get sex versus football players are brainless meatheads too stupid and overindulged to understand a one-syllable, two letter word. I actually begin teaching material about serial rape next week. I expect the information will open some students’ eyes to aspects of the crime they assume they understand. If it doesn’t, they’re going to flunk.”
She had bigger things to worry about than narrow minds or failed grades. “Thanks for your help, Professor.”
“I keep telling you, call me Roman.”
The familiarity felt wrong, like calling the family priest by his first name. “Right. Well, if you think of anything else, feel free to give me a call.”
“It would help if I could review the case notes…”
Erin checked her rear view mirror. “I’ll talk to the FBI to see if we can consult with you on this one.”
“The FBI is involved? Already?” The professor sounded intrigued.
“Yeah.”
“That’s what happens when you have lots of wealthy parents and murdered co-eds.”
And an elite college whose enrollment was going to suffer as a consequence. She understood the stakes could be measured in dollars and lives—only the lives concerned her right now.
“I’ll get back to you.” Erin said goodbye and hung up.
She turned into the police station, Agent Singh following closely in his black rental SUV. She had a feeling he was going to be her own personal shadow until the powers that be decided whether or not to make her the sacrificial goat. Erin growled with frustration as she pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. She got out and leaned against the warm hood of her truck as she waited for the fed to join her. He walked toward her, all muscled grace and professional cool. Her mouth went dry.
Get a grip, Erin. He thinks you’re a cheating slut and is probably gonna get you fired.
He caught her gaze and raised a brow in question. She tried to keep her expression blank. The guy was gorgeous and looked more like an actor playing a role than a law enforcement officer with powers of arrest, but she didn’t let it fool her. People often dismissed her because she was young and blonde. It made getting the cuffs around those thick wrists that much more satisfying.
She led the way, grateful there were no reporters yet. They’d arrive soon enough like a plague of flies.
“It’s a long drive from Virginia,” she noted, walking up the stairs toward the red brick building.
“Flew in from Boston.”
“Murder case?”
He glanced at her sideways. “Suspected white slave ring.”
“You shut it down?”
“It’s ongoing.” He carefully avoided her gaze.
So he’d been pulled off that case to come here. Damn. Her mood soured further as she held open the door for him. “Well, we sure do appreciate you dropping everything and rushing here to help.” She didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
His glance flicked
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