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“Can’t complain. Bellevue’s been great about rearranging my shifts. So I’ve had more time to fine-tune my chess and other board-game skills in order to take on my mother. Although she’s still the reigning champ. I can’t touch her when it comes to the Book Lover’s edition of Trivial Pursuit, or the Age of Mythology.”
Lillian pooh-poohed him, but Sloane could see that Luke’s praise had lifted her spirits. He was the same reserved, gentle guy Sloane had met seven years ago. Clean-cut and ruggedly built, he had a reassuring demeanor and a solid presence that emanated comfort and strength—even at a time of personal crisis. He was obviously Lillian’s caretaker. Well, no one was better suited for the job. Sloane had seen that firsthand on the day they met: 9/11—the day the world had changed forever.
She’d been at Bellevue Hospital in her capacity as an A.D.A., interviewing a witness for the prosecution. Luke was employed at Bellevue as a medical assistant—a job he was well qualified for. He’d served as a combat medic in the army, stationed overseas in South Korea at Camp Casey.
When the chaos of the terrorist attacks erupted, Sloane had run into the corridor to see what was going on. She literally collided with Luke. The badge on his white uniform and the photo ID clipped to his pocket told Sloane who and what he was.
He’d worked tirelessly. She’d helped as best she could. And together they’d endured the fallout from the day’s heinous events. That kind of shared experience forged a bond that was hard to explain.
It was certainly motivation enough to stay in touch.
“How’s your hand doing?” Luke was asking.
“Some good days, some bad,” Sloane replied, snapping back to the present. “I take it one baby step at a time.”
As she spoke, Sloane noticed that Lillian was leaning more heavily on Luke’s arm. It was time to get the poor woman’s input on Cynthia Alexander and let her go home. “Sergeant Erwin is over there,” Sloane told her, pointing in his direction. “Why don’t we get you settled in a comfortable chair and let him talk to you.”
“Thank you.” Flanked by Luke and Sloane, Lillian made her way over to the cluster of chairs and the table where the photos were laid out. Beside it, Sergeant Erwin had snapped his cell phone shut and was watching their approach.
“Who’s the missing student?” Lillian asked Sloane.
“Cynthia Alexander. I don’t know if you remember her. But she took a couple of your courses.”
“Cynthia?” Lillian looked surprised. “Of course I remember her. A bright girl. Very conscientious. She did A work even after the swimming season got under way and she was inundated with practice.”
“Dr. Doyle.” Bob Erwin inserted himself in the conversation, having heard Lillian’s response. “Thank you for coming in. Please, have a seat.” He pulled out a chair and waited until she was settled. “Obviously, you’re acquainted with Cynthia Alexander. Just to be on the safe side, is this the girl you’re thinking of?” He offered her two close-up photos.
“Yes, Sergeant.” Lillian glanced at the pictures and handed them back. “That’s Cynthia.” She met his gaze, visibly comprehending his motives. “My illness hasn’t affected my mental faculties. That’s definitely the young woman I’m referring to.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Please, don’t apologize. I understand. You have to be sure.” Lines of concern creased Lillian’s brow. “When you say missing, do you mean taken?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Bob dragged over a chair and sat down directly across from Lillian. “Professor Doyle, do you recall if you saw Cynthia at the workshop you participated in last Thursday?”
“I…” Lillian frowned in concentration. “No, I don’t think so. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. The topic is one that would definitely have interested her. Partly because she was a student of human behavior and partly because she was a loner. There were just so many attendees, and I wasn’t feeling one hundred percent. All I recall is a sea of faces.”
“I understand.” Bob’s tone was compassionate. It was clear he was frustrated about striking out again, especially since Lillian was his most promising John Jay lead. But it was equally clear how upset she was about failing to provide concrete details, and about her limited energy level. “Do you feel up to sitting for a few minutes and telling me everything you can about Cynthia?” he asked.
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
“Thank you.” Bob whipped out a pad.
At that moment, Elliot entered the lecture hall and strode over. “Hey,” he greeted Sloane. “I was told to come here on a police matter. What’s going on?”
Sloane pulled him aside, quietly filling him in on the situation. “I’m the one who suggested Sergeant Erwin send for you. You were at the workshop with the rest of us. And from Cynthia’s transcript, it looks like she took one of your courses.”
A thoughtful pause, and then a nod. “She did. Comp 201. I remember her, but only vaguely. It was a pretty big intro course. I’m not sure how much help I can be.”
“Do you have a visual of her in your mind’s eye? Because the sergeant has photos.”
“I’ll check them out. But from what I recall, she was tall, dark hair, kind of fresh-scrubbed looking.”
“That’s Cynthia. Do you remember if you saw her at our workshop last Thursday or anytime over the course of that two-day seminar? The cops are trying to establish a more exact time for her disappearance.”
Elliot shook his head. “I didn’t see her at all.” A pause. “You think she was kidnapped?”
“I think it’s a distinct possibility.”
