He nodded. “I can do that.”
Susan brought over their breakfast and poured more coffee. When she left, Regan said, “I want to talk to Richie Traverton, just to get his take on Candace and the investigation. You should be there.”
“I don’t know. You got more out of her roommate because she didn’t know I was there.”
“Think about it, okay? And I’d like you to research more about the sorority, Candace’s peers, and the current president.”
“Okay, but why?”
“Because if we find anything good, you need to expose it on the podcast.”
“Expose? That sounds ominous.”
“They’re not talking, but I find it hard to believe that everyone there agrees on this. Isn’t at least one person curious? And after Wagner gave me a hard sell about the mental health of the girls. I’m sure there are some who are seriously troubled by what happened, but so troubled that they want to shut down all conversation? It rubbed me wrong. Candace wasn’t last seen at the sorority party, we know that now, but the reason she left in the first place may be directly connected to something that happened at the party. It’s the only thing that makes sense. If we can stir the pot a bit, it might encourage one or more of them to break ranks.”
“I like that idea. But I don’t want anyone else hurt. Seeing Taylor last night… I just…” He looked pained, and Regan felt for the kid.
“She may not have intended to kill herself, Lucas. It could have been—probably was—an accidental overdose.”
“Yeah—but on purpose or not, I didn’t start this podcast to hurt anyone. I did it to find the truth.”
“That’s a good thing, Lucas. You can’t blame yourself for the decisions other people make. The truth is always important.”
He stared at his half-eaten meal, then said, “How about if you talk to Traverton, and I’ll continue my research on the sorority as soon as I’m done with my morning class.”
“Then, after that, we should go to Sunrise Center. You have a relationship already with the director, but it might be time to follow up.”
“Okay. I have an afternoon class at two, so I can meet you there by four.”
She agreed. “Remember what I said last night.” Regan drained her coffee.
“Be careful, watch my surroundings, do things different than normal.”
“You’re a quick study.”
Twenty-Five
After Regan learned from McCarthy’s that Richie Traverton would come on shift at eleven, she spent the morning doing basic research. Having the Merritt name helped tremendously: anyone who’d lived in Flagstaff for more than ten years knew who her father was, and many of the old-timers still remembered her grandfather. Her generation remembered that her brother had broken the RBI record in high school—43. It didn’t break the state record, but no one had matched it at their high school since.
People in the know informed her that Detective Young had a decent record. He’d made a lateral move from Phoenix PD four years ago after his divorce, bringing along his daughter, now nine. He had full custody, so there might be something to the rumors she’d heard about his “crazy” ex-wife. Not relevant, but it was always good to know as much as possible about the background and motivations of the people around you. The big plus was that he was considered a good cop; the big negative was that he rarely worked overtime and didn’t pick up the slack, causing some friction among his colleagues. That could be because he was a single dad, or it could be because he was lazy, or a combination of both. The Candace Swain homicide was the first homicide in Flagstaff that he’d worked, but he hadn’t been in homicide in Phoenix, which suggested that it may have been the first homicide he had ever worked.
After chatting with local cops who still knew and loved her dad, Regan headed over to the campus. She confirmed with NAUPD that security tapes were deleted after thirty days; nothing had been saved from the week Candace had disappeared, except for the dorm recordings from that weekend when she first went missing through the Sunday her body was found.
Young most likely had possession of that tape. She wondered why he hadn’t requested more. But with a property that size, she supposed if he asked for the whole week for the entire campus it would be a substantial amount of data. By the time he’d learned that the victim hadn’t drowned in the lake, the aquatic center recordings had been erased.
She also learned more about security at the library. Doors and windows that opened were wired. No motion sensors inside that might have tripped an alarm. Security cameras in the lobby, the information desk, the entrances, elevator interiors, technology wing, and rare-books room. That left more than half the square footage not covered by cameras, including none of the bathrooms or study rooms.