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Casey’s cell phone rang. She didn’t need to look at the caller ID for the all-too-familiar “unavailable.” She knew who it was.
Woodenly, she punched the phone on. “Don’t bother,” she said in a tortured voice she couldn’t conceal. “I already know.”
“Really?” the scrambled voice answered. “I’m impressed. That psychic of yours is worth her weight in gold.”
“Who’s the victim?” Casey was past the point of playing games. “Just tell me.”
“And ruin the fun? Not a chance, Red. You’ll find out soon enough. She respected you, you know. You’d be proud. She fought hard. Just as you will. This one’s ironic. We’ve come full circle.”
The sound of the connection ending sent chills up and down Casey’s spine.
Full circle? What the hell did that mean?
* * *
It was 10:00 p.m.
Robbie chained his bike to a pole on Third Avenue, and lifted the soft, thermal box out of the basket. He headed for the familiar dorm, where he made a meat lover’s pizza delivery at least once a week. Deirdre Grimes was predictable. She always ordered the same thing, and she always gave him a generous tip.
He climbed the two flights of stairs to her second-floor dorm room. He then headed down the corridor, stopped outside her room and rapped at the door.
No response.
“Hey, Deirdre,” he called, knocking again. “It’s Robbie. I’ve got your pizza. Eat it while it’s hot.”
Again, no reply.
Robbie glanced up and down the hallway. He spotted Anita Lerner, another of his college customers, on her way to the showers.
“Hey, Anita,” he yelled out to her. “Have you seen Deirdre?”
Anita stopped and shook her head. “I’ve been locked in my room studying. Deirdre was about to do the same the last time I saw her.” She sent him a grin. “Probably fell asleep. Knock louder. She wouldn’t want to miss her meat lover’s.”
“Yeah, okay.” Robbie turned back to the door as Anita continued on to the showers. He knocked loudly and repeatedly, calling out Deirdre’s name a few more times.
Nothing.
He tried the doorknob. It turned, and the door swung open.
“Deirdre?” Robbie was greeted by a semidarkened room. He wasn’t about to just march in, but he could reach the light switch from the doorway. He flicked it on.
The overhead lit up the place, revealing an empty room. There was blatant evidence of a scuffle. An overturned desk chair, a throw pillow on the floor and a potted plant knocked down and spilled across the woven rug.
And that wasn’t all. There was a large red stain on the rug.
Blood.
Robbie stood dead still for a moment. Then, he took out his cell phone and called 9-1-1.
* * *
There was none of the merriment of a few short hours ago at the Forensic Instincts brownstone. All of that had come to a grinding halt after Casey had gotten her chilling phone call. She’d immediately called Captain Sharp with as much information as she had—which wasn’t much. Now all they could do was wait.
The phone rang at ten-thirty.
Casey punched the phone on speaker. “Yes,” she responded. “Do you have something for us?”
“There’s been an incident at NYU,” Captain Sharp informed them. “The pizza delivery boy called it in about a half hour ago.” He described the condition of the door room that Robbie had walked into. “The crime scene unit is doing its job. I have nothing solid to give you. But Claire’s description of the scene was accurate. The only difference is that, this time, the body was removed. We’ve got cops combing the area to find it.”
