Forever Read Free Page A

our tab, insisting on buying my coffee. We headed out to her car. The sun was hot enough to make me wish I’d worn a hat.
    “Where should we drop you?” she asked.
    I checked the time; 10:15. My next class was at 1:00. I didn’t feel like returning to campus; I wanted some down time.
    “My place, I guess.”
    I gave her directions to my apartment in the student ghetto. It was a decent place, an easy walk from campus. I had a bike, but I’d left it at home that morning.
    “Thanks,” I said as she pulled up to the curb. “And thanks for answering my distress call.”
    “No problem.” She smiled softly. “I owe you.”
    I got out. She rolled down the window.
    “I’ll text you about tonight.”
    “OK.”
    I looked toward the back seat, where Lomen was maintaining his Zen detachment. He made no move to switch to the front. Not even a glance at me as the car pulled away.
    Well, hell.
    I went inside and opened the refrigerator. I should have been hungry, but the thought of food did not appeal. I poured myself a glass of water and sat on my sofa, thinking over the conversation.
    I still didn’t know whether Lomen was interested in me. When he looked at me I felt like he was, but he didn’t look at me much. In fact I had the impression he was trying not to.
    What was that about?
    I had an afternoon class: Calculus. Ordinarily I liked math, but I felt no enthusiasm. Since the alternative was driving myself crazy trying to second-guess Lomen, though, I dug out my text and went over the assignment I’d already completed.
    The phone rang. I looked at the number—local, but I didn’t recognize it. I let it go to voicemail, then listened. Turned out to be a reporter, wanting to interview me about finding Kimberly.
    No, thanks.
    I studied, heated up some some for lunch, studied some more until it was time to head to class, then stuffed the text, notebook, and my assignment into my pack. I hauled out my bike and put on a gimme cap—Isotopes freebie I’d picked up over the summer—and rode back to campus.
    Amanda’s text came in partway through the class. I glanced at it, but the prof hated phones and had been known to confiscate them from inattentive students, so I shoved mine back in my pocket. After class I stood outside the building under a tree and read Amanda’s message.
    MEET 7 PM – PICK YOU UP 10 TIL, OK?
    I sent back “OK,” then put on my cap, climbed on my bike. I’d avoided Clark Hall on my way to Calculus, but it was just a couple of buildings away and I was curious. I cruised past on my way home. There were still cops and yellow tape, and a few looky-loos. Building no longer locked down, apparently. The body was gone.
    What had brought Kimberly to this part of campus?
    Her killer, maybe.
    There was no reason for her to go there that I knew of. Certainly not at night; and since I’d found her in the morning I assumed she’d died overnight. The student union building and the theatre complex were a bit of a walk, kind of far for nighttime wandering. Kids looking for fun were more likely to head straight for the Nob Hill district from the dorms, not this far west.
    I took a deep breath. Not my problem.
    I headed home and spent an hour or so surfing and looking at UNM’s course offerings in medical science. DNA sequencing would require ten or fifteen hours of course work before you got to the good stuff. That was a big time commitment, if that’s what they’d want me to do.
    On the other hand, more fun than grading papers. And definitely a marketable skill. It was early enough in the semester I could probably pick up the first class and catch up fairly easily.
    I made myself eat a peanut butter sandwich, though my stomach was still kind of knotted. Went back to surfing, trying to keep my mind off of Lomen. Was only partly successful.
    Amanda knocked on my door at eleven minutes til seven. Lomen was not with her, much to my disappointment. The sun was still up, but heading for the horizon. I followed