“Serious for who?”
“Guess not for either of us.”
A gust rattled the window, lifting a loose page from Benton’s desk. He caught it and smoothed it flat with a little too much care.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Burke asked.
“Months before she disappeared. We were done.”
“She spoke to Keller. Sinclair. Raines,” Tessa said. “You knew them?”
“Faculty types,” Benton said. “Liked attention.”
Tessa held his eyes. “Lauren Pierce isn’t missing anymore.”
Benton froze. “What?”
“She’s been identified,” Tessa said. “She’s dead.”
Color drained from his face. He turned toward the window like he needed something solid to look at.
“Dead?” His voice cracked. “Jesus.”
“Whoever did this,” Benton said, swallowing hard, “it wasn’t me. She didn’t deserve that.”
Tessa didn’t move. “Sara Parker received a voicemail,” she said. “The night she was taken.”
Benton blinked. “What?”
“A threat,” Tessa continued. “A man told her to stop asking questions about Lauren Pierce. Told her she was going to get herself hurt.”
Benton’s throat bobbed.
“Do you know anything about that voicemail?”
Benton shook his head too fast. “No. No, I don’t?—”
“You sure?” Tessa asked. “Because the call came in late. Angry. Personal. Like someone who was tired of being pushed.”
Benton’s hands flexed once at his sides.
“I didn’t call her,” he snapped, then tried to pull it back. “I mean—Sara Parker never called me. I didn’t have her number.”
“You didn’t have to,” she said. “Not if she had yours.”
Silence.
“Sara had your name in her notes,” Burke said quietly.
Benton stared at the floor. When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy with something that could’ve been grief?—
—or fear.
“She came by,” he said finally. “A few days ago. Asked questions. About Lauren. About what I knew.”
“And?”
“I told her it was over. That I hadn’t seen Lauren in months. That she needed to leave me out of it.”
