Still, maybe Vicky Ryan would talk to her. If not, Regan might just have to seek out other sorority sisters.
Regan had said to Lucas that someone had lied to the police; Young had confirmed the same gut feeling. Who? And why?
Someone in the sorority knew more than they had told the police, and whoever it was may be too scared to come forward. Both the letter to Lucas and the call they got about Candace driving on campus Sunday night had been anonymous. Even Annie’s reticence to call in to the podcast was odd. Was something more going on with the sorority? Too many people were acting odd, almost scared.
Regan slipped on her sunglasses, breathing in the fresh spring air as she crossed campus to the public lot. It was a beautiful afternoon, and the sun revitalized her. Even being on campus wasn’t as weird as she’d thought it might be. There was a warm, familiar nostalgia as she recalled friends and events during her four years here. Playing spontaneous games of beach volleyball in the sandpit in the middle of campus; hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon with her geology class; going to the football games with Jessie and their small group of friends. Regan never had a large friend group, but the friends she had were good ones, men and women she still kept in touch with.
Not so much in the last year, she realized. But grief did that to you. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone after Chase died.
She shook the thoughts of the past from her head and focused on the present. Rachel was protective of Sigma Rho, and she had been around when Candace disappeared. She very well might know more about what had happened than she let on. Perhaps she was protecting one of her sorority sisters. Taylor? Would Rachel protect a killer? What would Taylor’s motive be…and why on earth would a professor protect her?
Maybe Regan was jumping the gun on this, but she couldn’t shake the thought that both Rachel and Taylor knew more than they’d told her or than they’d told the police. Whether that information was directly related to Candace’s murder was anyone’s guess.
But Regan was determined to find out.
Nineteen
It was after five thirty by the time Regan arrived back at her dad’s house. She tried to recall what was in the refrigerator for her to eat. She was famished.
There were packages at the front door, so her dad wasn’t home yet, which surprised her. She walked up the stairs and picked up two small boxes, both addressed to John Merritt. There was also a large manila envelope that had been sent two-day mail. For Regan.
The return address: Dyson, Brooks, & Shapiro, Attorneys-at-Law.
Regan’s lawyer was Beth Shapiro.
All thought of food left her head. She unlocked the front door, dropped the boxes on the counter, and took the envelope to her dad’s office. She sat at his desk and stared.
She knew what this was.
As soon as she signed on the dotted line, her divorce would be final.
She could wait, but why? Regan couldn’t imagine that there were any outstanding issues. Beth would have called her.
Regan opened the package, and it was as she’d expected, though she was somewhat surprised Beth hadn’t called to tell her the papers were on their way. She read the brief letter attached to the documents.
Blah blah blah.
Sign all three copies and keep one for yourself, return the other two in the postage-paid envelope to their office. Colorful arrows pointed to where she was supposed to sign. As if there was anything cheery about divorce.
Grant had already signed. Of course he had. He wanted the divorce as much as she did—maybe more—and he was local. Easy to go into the lawyer’s office to sign away the twelve years they’d shared.
Regan flipped to each arrow and scrawled her name. Took one copy and put it facedown next to her—she didn’t want to look at it—and put the other two in the designated envelope, sealed it, and walked down to the mailbox at the end of the long driveway. Their road was private, remote. Twenty minutes to campus, but it felt like they were in the middle of nowhere. Only a few other people lived in this idyllic area, and she didn’t see anyone, only a few houses set far up their own driveways, partly hidden by tall pine and juniper.
Regan retrieved that day’s mail and stuffed the envelope in the box, then walked back up the driveway.
There was nothing left between her and Grant. When Chase was gone, they both realized that their son was all that had bound them together for the last few years. Why couldn’t she have seen it before? Would it have even made a difference?
Dammit! She would have stayed married to Grant forever if it could bring Chase back to life. He shouldn’t be dead!