“I’m his faculty advisor, not his father confessor.” Corian shrugged, admitted, “I suppose I’ve filled the role of mentor since Gordie came to PSU. At the least, I’d like to think we were friends.”

“He’s had a troubled background. At least before he attended PSU.”

“Gordie was more sinned against than sinning.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“I am. Talent of that magnitude breeds envy.” Corian spoke with the sweeping certainty of one who has suffered the same slings and arrows. Elliot managed not to snort. Corian added, “Can I ask why exactly you’re questioning me about Gordie?”

“Zahra Lyle asked for my help.”

“Is Gordie flunking history?”

Elliot met Corian’s bland gaze. “I wouldn’t know. She was afraid that Gordie’s disappearance might have been connected to Terry Baker’s.”

“Baker? The boy who killed himself? That’s a bizarre idea even for Zahra.”

“I don’t know if it’s so bizarre. The Baker kid was missing for four weeks before his body was found.”

Corian’s devilish eyebrows arched. “You seem to know a lot about it. I thought you gave up being a superhero for teaching?”

Elliot kept his response neutral. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

This was how it had been since nearly the first day Elliot showed up at PSU. Something about him rubbed Corian the wrong way. Well, some people instinctively disliked law enforcement. Maybe it was a political thing or the fact that Elliot had formerly worked for a “fascist” organization. Or maybe it was because Corian believed Elliot had obtained his teaching position through Roland’s influence. Whatever it was, Corian didn’t try to hide his dislike.

Corian laughed a genuine laugh. “Touché. You’re Roland’s boy after all.”

Elliot smiled, but his thoughts circled round once more to Gordie Lyle. Given the problems he’d had at Cornish, was it likely he’d endanger this second chance by skipping classes for a week without a damn good reason? His aunt didn’t believe so.

“Do you have any idea where Gordie would go if he did want to get away for a while?”

“No. To be honest, if I did, I wouldn’t be comfortable telling you, knowing that you’d report back to Zahra. But if I do hear from Gordie, I’ll ask him to get in touch with his aunt. More than that I can’t promise.”

“You’re not at all worried about him?”

“No,” Corian said with convincing certainty, “I have no doubt Gordie’ll turn up eventually.”

Chapter Thirteen

On Wednesday, as prearranged, Elliot met Anne Gold for dinner at a steakhouse in Tacoma. He arrived a little early and found her already settled in the dining room and picking unhappily at hors d’oeuvres.

“I hope you like calamari,” she said by way of greeting. “They do an incredible marinara sauce here.”

As a matter of fact, Elliot didn’t like calamari. He didn’t like rubbery textures in general. But that wasn’t what made him frown as he slid into the leather-lined booth.

“What’s wrong?” He was startled at the difference in Anne within five days. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. There were bags under her eyes and tiny stress lines around her mouth.

“What a way to greet a gal. Are you absolutely positive you’re gay?” Tonight’s glasses were horn-rims. Unusually studious.

“It’s been a while since I checked, but I’m pretty sure.”

“Then why can’t you be like the gay best friend in movies? They always have fabulous fashion tips and advice for the lovelorn.” She was joking, but there was a brittleness there that was new.

Elliot watched her shake the ice in her empty glass. “Do you need fashion advice?” he asked quietly.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them hastily away. “Sorry, Elliot. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Any reason?”

She shook her head quickly. “Let’s order.”

For the next half hour they talked shop, and Anne slightly relaxed, but Elliot remained conscious of an underlying strain. He observed her while trying not to be obvious about it, mentally cataloging what he knew about her. She lived in Tacoma—had grown up in Washington state. She had two failed marriages and no children. She was tenured and perennially rated as one of PSU’s most popular instructors.

The last time he’d seen her she was being stood up by her date in a bar in Seattle.

Why Seattle? It was well out of her way. Had she been meeting someone she didn’t want to be seen meeting? His impression was it took a lot to discomfit Anne.

He considered all this as they ate their meals. An idea had occurred to him. He didn’t like it, but studying Anne’s strained, pale face, he couldn’t help but recall her reputation for sexual adventuring and her own comments about age being a state of mind. And he couldn’t help remembering Zahra Lyle’s remarks about the college professor who was pursuing Gordie, continuing to call after he disappeared.

In the lull between having their plates removed and waiting for dessert, she unexpectedly offered the perfect opening. “I feel like I haven’t stopped talking since we sat down. What about you? Someone mentioned to me that you were working with the FBI to find poor Terry Baker?”

“That’s true.” He watched her face. “Now I’m looking for a student by the name of Gordie Lyle.”

Her expression went rigid, her spoon clattering against the saucer of her coffee cup.

Into the stricken silence between them, he said, “Do you know him?”

It was painfully, nakedly obvious that she did, yet she made an attempt. “Gordie.” She swallowed. “Lyle?”

And then neither of them said anything.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

Elliot shook his head. “PSU is a small university.”

“How dare—has anyone suggested?” She caught herself. “I don’t know why I’m getting angry. It’s true.” She stared down at her coffee cup. “Yes, I know Gordie. Very well.”

“But you don’t know where he is?”

She moved her head in negation. “I’ve been a wreck ever since Zahra Lyle did that damn TV interview. Wondering when someone was going to put two and two together.” Her eyes met his. “To be honest, until that press conference I wasn’t sure that he wasn’t—that is, I was afraid Gordie was avoiding me.”

“No. That’s highly unlikely. Do you have any idea why he’d take off without telling anyone?”

She sighed. “Pressure? The annual student art show is this week. I know he was pinning a lot on attracting critical attention with his exhibit.”

“Was he the type to cave under pressure?” That wasn’t the impression Elliot had formed.

“He had a vulnerable side. Not everyone realized that. He took a time-out once or twice when things got too heavy for him.”

“Do you have any idea where he went on those occasions?”

“No.”

“Any idea where he might have gone this time?”

“No.”

“What about friends? Does he have friends in the area that he could stay with?”

Anne said dryly, “I don’t know about his friends. We didn’t socialize much. Anyway, Gordie was sort of a lone wolf.”

“His aunt doesn’t believe he walked away voluntarily.”

“Ugh. That woman.” Anne shook her head dismissively. “What a ridiculous thing to suggest.”

“Have you met Zahra?”

“No. Thank God. I’ve spoken to her on the phone a couple of times. She’s…unpleasant.”

“How did Gordie get along with her?”

“All right, I suppose. He didn’t enjoy being treated like a child, but he was patient with her.”

“When was the last time you saw Gordie?”

“I saw him in passing on Monday afternoon last week.”

“How did he seem?”

“I meant that literally,” Anne said. “Gordie walked past my classroom door. The last time we spoke was the previous Wednesday evening. We had dinner and…every Wednesday.”