“Are you going to threaten to expose this if they don’t cooperate?” A pause. “And if you do that, isn’t that the definition of blackmail?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Decker said. “Blackmail, besides being against the law, is a very loaded word.” He smiled to himself. “I prefer to think of it as . . . leverage.”

THE FIVE COLLEGES of Upstate were not all built in a day. Duxbury was the oldest and most elite was originally founded as a men’s college but went co-ed fifty years ago. It most closely resembled the prototype of an eastern college: imposing limestone buildings, a magnificent brick and stone library with stained-glass windows, and of course the stadium where the five colleges played football among themselves. It took up the most real estate, leaving the other four colleges as stepsiblings. Clarion—the women’s college—was built forty years after Duxbury. Morse McKinley was erected in the postwar boom in the late 1940s when brick and concrete and straight lines were all a building needed to look modern. Now it just looked like a big dingbat apartment house. The smallest of the colleges was Kneed Loft and was nicknamed Nerd Loft because it specialized in math, science, and engineering. The architects more or less gave up on this one. It was way more bunker than building, but it didn’t stop the college from turning out brilliant students, most who went on to graduate school or government labs.

The last college was Littleton, noted for its artsy teachers, its spacey students, and its clear-cut agenda of social activism. It was considered the only college composed of co-eds who cared. It prided itself on being different. The students had palpable disdain for Morse McKinley and its greedy Wall Street ways. They were way cooler than the robotic dweebs of Kneed Loft, and of course, they were much less pretentious than the snobs at Duxbury. Clarion didn’t even factor into its equation.

Ten years ago, Littleton underwent a massive successful campaign to retrofit the college and turn it all green—from solar energy that ran the generators to the organic food in the cafeteria. Now it almost seemed like an aggie school with its numerous outdoor gardens—dead in the wintertime—and its four greenhouses happily providing tomatoes and zucchini squash to the cafeteria for its vegan entrées. The school’s four main buildings had quilted roofs of thatch reed intermixed with solar panels that frequently had to be wiped down from the snowfall.

The dorms were recycled brick boxes, nondescript, interchangeable, and named after trees. The door to Maple Hall was locked. McAdams was about to text Julia that they were in front of the door, but then a student came running up to the door, swiped her card, and all three of them stepped inside. She bounded up the stairs and left them in the lurch.

The place was a sty with overflowing garbage cans and various jackets, hoodies, boots, and other articles of clothing strewn chockablock. It was also unbearably stuffy, stale, and smelly as well as loud and cacophonous. Anyone who could study or sleep in these environs was a freak of nature.

McAdams took off his parka, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “This brings back memories and none of them good. And Dad wonders why I’m not rushing to do it all again.” He turned to Decker. “Did you go to college?”

“Of course not—because as you well know all cops are cretins by law.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Jeez!”

Decker smiled, took off his coat, and started climbing stairs to the fourth floor. “FYI, I’m a lawyer. Passed the California bar and everything. And I hated every moment of it.”

“That I can understand. The law’s an ass and so are lawyers.”

“So why are you going to law school?”

“Good question, Decker. What law school did you go to?”

“Some unaccredited job in L.A. I went at night and worked LAPD during the day.”

“So where’d you go to college . . . undergraduate?”

“I didn’t go to college. I had completed my training at the police academy and I guess that was good enough for my law school—that and full tuition.”

“You went into LAPD academy directly out of high school?”

“No, I worked Gainesville police for a while. I was born in Florida. And no, I didn’t go directly into the academy out of high school. There was this little glitch called the Vietnam War. Uncle Sam had first dibs.”

“Oh . . . right.” A pause. “Did you go overseas?”

“Of course.” Decker gave a mirthless laugh. “We weren’t given choices, Tyler.” He reached the third floor and paused. “I was drafted and went into the infantry. First time out on a mission, I saw the kid about twenty paces ahead of me step on a mine and blow himself up.” He wiped his forehead. Man, it was hot. “Welcome to the jungle.”

McAdams fell silent. “I don’t like it when people pry into my life so I guess I shouldn’t be prying into yours.”

“I don’t mind. Curiosity is a good feature for a cop.”

“So can I ask what happened?”

“I survived. That’s what happened.” He shrugged. “It was a little more than that. I’ll tell you how I survived and then we won’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“Buddy, it’s no secret. Within a short period of time, like you, I figured out how to work the system. I knew I’d wind up dead if I stayed in the front lines. A guy six foot four isn’t built for guerrilla warfare. So I asked to be transferred into Medics because of my height disadvantage. It wasn’t an unreasonable request. Plus I was an EMT in high school so I had some experience. I knew it was a long shot but nothing ventured, et cetera. Three weeks later, after days and nights of routinely seeing body parts flying through the air, I was transferred. Medics wasn’t an easy division and it wasn’t safe. We were the first called in when the fighting broke out. We were transported in choppers and we were always getting shot at. And, yes, we did get hit and have to land more than a couple of times. We even crashed, but there are crashes and then there are crashes. I was lucky.”

“I suppose that’s one word for it.”

“It’s the only word for it. Luck. And let me tell you, it was better than crouching in the dirt and shooting at Cong because I was actively doing something worthwhile. I saw a lot of horror, but I helped save a lot of lives.

“After I got back to civilian life, I drifted into the academy because it seemed like my best option. I do well with a chain of command. I’m not the gadfly, McAdams. I’m not the wise guy or the renegade and I don’t like rogue cops on a crusade because they screw things up for the rest of us peons. I’m the drudge. I worked my cases with elbow grease. I worked them to death and mostly I got results. Do I have some cold cases that eat at me? You betcha I do. But maybe those cases will eventually be given a fresh pair of eyes. And if they call me for information, I will be happy to cooperate. All I want is justice for the victims. No ego, just solutions. Which brings us to the all-important question. Are you with me or not? Because I’m going to demand 110 percent.”

McAdams nodded. “Whatever you need. And I’ll try to keep my obnoxiousness in check.”

“It’ll come out from time to time, but that’s okay. As long as you’re dependable.”

“I’m good at dependable.”

“Great. So let’s go find Julia in 4D and see if we can’t get some justice for Angeline Moreau. I may not have been suited as a lawyer, but I’m a great advocate for the dead.”

CHAPTER 10

THE DOOR WAS partially open with no consideration of personal safety. Decker knocked and a female voice told them to come in. The girl was about five ten and a hundred and ten pounds judging from her sticklike arms. Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, a small upturned nose, thick red lips. She wore a wife beater and board shorts and had slippers on her feet. Skimpy dress to meet the police but it was hot inside. She stuck out a hand. “Julia Kramer. You guys must be the police.”