Home > Books > The Sorority Murder (Regan Merritt, #1)(70)

The Sorority Murder (Regan Merritt, #1)(70)

Author:Allison Brennan

Regan decided to take a walk around the library herself to identify all the cameras. The library had changed quite a bit since she’d been there. The lobby had been remodeled and felt more open; the study rooms on the first and second floors now had glass walls, and they didn’t feel as claustrophobic; and the technology center had moved over. The tech center had its own wing and a secondary door, which could be locked separately from the main library.

Where would someone hide at closing time? She was surprised by how much space was not covered by cameras—such as the entire third floor, outside of the elevator bank, and the staircases.

She had no idea what the exact process was for the librarians or security guards when they closed the building for the night. Did they do a walk-through to make sure no one was inside? Check each of the bathrooms? Each study room? If someone wanted to hide, Regan figured they could, if they were familiar with the library. After an hour of exploration, she determined that the best way to intentionally get locked in would be to stay on the third floor in one of the study rooms along the north wall. Candace could have easily hidden in the book stacks, then slipped into one of the rooms until the library officially closed. She could have slept there, and the bathroom on the third floor didn’t have a lock, and there were no cameras between it and the study rooms.

But why? It made no sense to Regan why she would do that when she had a dorm room on campus, at least one boyfriend off campus, and her parents only a day’s drive away.

If the callers from the last podcast episode were accurate, Candace was seen briefly in the library Monday night…and exited Tuesday morning. That suggested she stayed the night.

Without more information, Regan couldn’t figure out the why.

Regan waited until after the lunch rush before she headed to McCarthy’s to talk to Richie Traverton. She arrived at two and ordered a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries while sitting at the bar, the best place to engage in a conversation. The burger was good, and the fries were better than expected.

Regan’s phone vibrated, and she had a text message from Rachel Wagner.

Vicky agreed to talk to you on the condition that I’m there with her. I don’t think this is a good idea, but I agreed. Can we meet tomorrow?

She didn’t immediately respond because Richie approached her at the same time and took her empty plates. “Can I get you anything else?”

She glanced around the sparsely populated bar in the middle of the afternoon. Happy hour started at four, so she was glad she had come now, before they got busy.

“Five minutes of your time. My name is Regan Merritt. I was hoping to have a word with you about your former girlfriend Candace Swain.”

Richie was twenty-seven now, had dropped out of college after two years, and had been working here ever since. He was attractive though not her type: his hair was a little too long, his smile a little too cocky, his clothing a little too grunge, and he had a few too many tattoos. But she’d done her research and knew he was a responsible employee, respected by his coworkers, and had no criminal record. A year ago, he’d bought a small house up the hill from the pub, not too far from Lucas’s apartment. Nothing expensive, but she’d driven by it on her way here and it was clean and well maintained.

He frowned at the mention of his former girlfriend. “Who are you again? The name sounds familiar.”

“I’m doing research for the host of a podcast about Candace’s disappearance and murder. You might have listened to it.”

“That’s it. Yes, I heard you the other night. You’re the marshal.”

“Former,” she corrected.

“I’ve been ignoring Vega. I don’t want to get in the middle of this.”

“But you listened to the podcast.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

She nodded. “You might be able to help solve her murder.”

“I talked to the police before and after Candace was killed. I know they were first looking at me because I was her boyfriend, but they know I didn’t kill her.”

“I believe you.”

“So why do you want to talk to me?”

He didn’t seem defensive, only curious. She liked his straightforward personality.

“Since you’ve listened to the podcast, you know what Lucas is trying to do.”

“Figure out where she was before she died. Right. And I told the police I didn’t know. And I don’t. Candace was her own person. I cared about her, a lot, but I knew it wasn’t going to last. She was planning to leave Flagstaff, and I’m not. I love it here, my mom is here, my grandmother, my little brother. I can ski in the winter, and there’s nothing better than loving where you live.”

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