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“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Dansen said, “although I’m not certain how I can help you.”
Derrick shifted. “Last night, a young woman named Beverly Hooper, who attended college at the same time as Waycross and Amy, called 9-1-1 because of an intruder.”
Dr. Dansen straightened. “Is she all right?”
“She is, although shaken up. The intruder had a butcher knife but her scream scared him off.” Ellie licked her dry lips. “Beverly, her friend Janie Huggins and some other ladies we spoke to who knew Amy, mentioned that some male classmates were into strange, disturbing things, cult-like behavior. One was a cutter, another filmed mock murders on campus.”
“Beverly Hooper thinks one of them might have been her intruder,” Derrick added.
Dr. Dansen drew a deep breath, a look of concern flickering in her eyes. “Hmm. Interesting.”
“We understand it’s been ten years,” Ellie said. “But we believe Waycross was the cutter. And that he and this group of young men attended your class.”
“I’ve had hundreds of students over the past decade. Give me a minute to look back at my records.” She pivoted in her chair and clicked several keys on her computer. Seconds later, she turned back to them.
“Yes, Reuben Waycross took my class. Most students who do so are interested in pursuing jobs in police work, crime scene investigations, the FBI. More than one went on to be a medical examiner and another is a forensic psychiatrist. Some of those jobs require a certain amount of morbid curiosity.”
“Did any of them ever concern you?”
“Occasionally, yes.”
“Was Waycross one of those?”
She consulted her computer. “Yes, he was specifically interested in the more sadistic details and photographs of crimes.” She sighed, skimming her notes. “I did notice scars on his arms and suspected he might be a cutter. When I asked him about it, he got angry and stormed out. After that day, he stopped attending class. I assumed it was because I confronted him.”
Ellie crossed her legs. “Do you remember who his friends were?”
She tapped a few more keys, then nodded. “He belonged to a small group who met weekly to play chess. One student was named Frank Wahlburg. He wrote a paper about collectors of murderabilia.” She tilted her head sideways as she read from her files. “The second was a student named Roland Pockley. He’s actually a professor of zoology here at the college.”
“How about a student who filmed mock murders?” Ellie asked.
She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I remember hearing something about that, but he was studying film. Police checked him out and decided he was harmless.”
“Did he attend your class?”
“No. After the police shut him down, I heard he transferred and attended film school.”
“What was his name?” Ellie asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t recall that either.”
“Did either Pockley, Waycross or Wahlburg exhibit violent tendencies?”
Dr. Dansen murmured a wry sound. “I really can’t answer that. Our only interactions were in the classroom. But as you know, criminals, especially sociopaths, sometimes experiment before they actually commit a crime. Some have elaborate fantasies about killing and mutilating others. Some start by killing an animal. Often, the first victim is someone personal then they get the taste of blood and escalate from there, altering their MO until they perfect it.” She rubbed her temple. “If you think they’re suspects you should look at their backgrounds.”
“I intend to do just that.” Derrick studied her. “Did you happen to discuss the Southside Slasher case in your classroom?”
Ellie went still, waiting for her answer.
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Dansen said, nonplussed by the question. “The story was just breaking and all over the news so it was a hot topic.”
“Did Radcliff take your class, too?” Ellie asked.
“Yes, but not in the same year that the others you’ve asked me about did.”
A frown darkened her eyes. “Maybe I should have seen something, but he seemed charming. And he was fairly quiet so didn’t draw much attention.”
“A lot of sociopaths are,” Derrick said. Radcliff could have met the others somewhere else on campus.
