don't buy the theory that someone in my class is committing all these crimes," Billings went on. She turned to address
the security officer present. "How do you know that they are even connected, Hector? Do we have witnesses who can say for
certain that the assailant is one and the same?" He shook his head.
"No connection so far, Professor Billings," Hector said. "But that may change tonight, with Keith Gardner," he added.
"I guess we wait, then," she said, excusing herself to step outside and light up. Professor Danbury followed her out.
As neither Dixie nor Frankie was in the mood for conversation and none of us smoked, we waited, a silent, somber trio.
The news, when it came, was mixed at best. I had hoped for an immediate arrest of a suspect--not only to mitigate my damaged
relationship with Uncle Frank, but to give me what I needed to write my article.
The good news? The police had located Keith Gardner's pickup truck in a ditch a mile from his home. It showed unmistakable
evidence of being the vehicle that had almost run us down and plowed into the Suburban.
The bad news? When the police got to Gardner's residence, he was sitting in front of the television watching reruns of M*A*S*H and appeared genuinely shocked that his pickup was not in his driveway and that it had been used in a hit-and-run earlier
that evening. When questioned, Gardner admitted he'd been out when he was supposed to have been home and had gotten spooked
thinking he was about to get caught. He'd kicked up his speed in order to get home. He also admitted to having beer in the
vehicle with him, something else that could violate the terms of his release, landing him back in the slammer.
Gardner vehemently denied any involvement in the criminal activity that currently plagued the Carson College campus, and,
for now at least, the investigation was ongoing.
Campus Security, along with the State Patrol and County Sheriffs office, would work the case jointly. They would be in contact
with Gardner's employer and probation officer and let them know what was going on. Meanwhile, while the evidence against Gardner
was considerable, the cops weren't ready to make an arrest just yet.
"Well, that's that," Professor Billings said and got to her feet. "I have early classes tomorrow. See you two then," she told
Dixie and Frankie.
"Uh, for curiosity's sake, what does your lecture cover tomorrow?" I asked Billings as she prepared to leave.
The cop-cum-professor stopped at the door and turned. She looked at me.
"Rape. Sexual assault," she said.
I winced. No woman would be safe on the Carson College campus the next night. And I got the kick-in-the-gut feeling no one
was going to do a diddly-squattin' thing about it.
CHAPTER 6
I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that had almost nothing to do with the fallout from Uncle Frank when
he saw the condition of his Suburban. I'd felt I owed it to Uncle Frank--and Frankie-- to be there when he was told, and to
divert as much of the heat off Frankie and onto me. I didn't have to live and work with Uncle Frank day in, day out like Frankie
did (picture me here on my knees giving thanks) and I didn't want Frankie's situation with his parents to be strained just
because I was a bit, uh, overzealous in my efforts to get to the bottom of the case of the campus criminal.
Unfortunately, like Dixie, Uncle Frank also failed to be impressed by my "for the greater good" logic, and he'd proceeded
to terminate my employment at the Dairee Freeze, declaring I was persona non gratis. Once I got some time to Google that particular
phrase, I'd decide how upset to be.
I padded out of my bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen around 6:00 a.m. wearing nothing but an it was a dark and stormy night Snoopy T-shirt and red bikinis and walked right into Ranger Rick Townsend.
"Oommphf!"
His chest was a rock-solid wall of khaki. I brushed my tangled hair out of my half-opened eyes and, in
the security officer present. "How do you know that they are even connected, Hector? Do we have witnesses who can say for
certain that the assailant is one and the same?" He shook his head.
"No connection so far, Professor Billings," Hector said. "But that may change tonight, with Keith Gardner," he added.
"I guess we wait, then," she said, excusing herself to step outside and light up. Professor Danbury followed her out.
As neither Dixie nor Frankie was in the mood for conversation and none of us smoked, we waited, a silent, somber trio.
The news, when it came, was mixed at best. I had hoped for an immediate arrest of a suspect--not only to mitigate my damaged
relationship with Uncle Frank, but to give me what I needed to write my article.
The good news? The police had located Keith Gardner's pickup truck in a ditch a mile from his home. It showed unmistakable
evidence of being the vehicle that had almost run us down and plowed into the Suburban.
The bad news? When the police got to Gardner's residence, he was sitting in front of the television watching reruns of M*A*S*H and appeared genuinely shocked that his pickup was not in his driveway and that it had been used in a hit-and-run earlier
that evening. When questioned, Gardner admitted he'd been out when he was supposed to have been home and had gotten spooked
thinking he was about to get caught. He'd kicked up his speed in order to get home. He also admitted to having beer in the
vehicle with him, something else that could violate the terms of his release, landing him back in the slammer.
Gardner vehemently denied any involvement in the criminal activity that currently plagued the Carson College campus, and,
for now at least, the investigation was ongoing.
Campus Security, along with the State Patrol and County Sheriffs office, would work the case jointly. They would be in contact
with Gardner's employer and probation officer and let them know what was going on. Meanwhile, while the evidence against Gardner
was considerable, the cops weren't ready to make an arrest just yet.
"Well, that's that," Professor Billings said and got to her feet. "I have early classes tomorrow. See you two then," she told
Dixie and Frankie.
"Uh, for curiosity's sake, what does your lecture cover tomorrow?" I asked Billings as she prepared to leave.
The cop-cum-professor stopped at the door and turned. She looked at me.
"Rape. Sexual assault," she said.
I winced. No woman would be safe on the Carson College campus the next night. And I got the kick-in-the-gut feeling no one
was going to do a diddly-squattin' thing about it.
CHAPTER 6
I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that had almost nothing to do with the fallout from Uncle Frank when
he saw the condition of his Suburban. I'd felt I owed it to Uncle Frank--and Frankie-- to be there when he was told, and to
divert as much of the heat off Frankie and onto me. I didn't have to live and work with Uncle Frank day in, day out like Frankie
did (picture me here on my knees giving thanks) and I didn't want Frankie's situation with his parents to be strained just
because I was a bit, uh, overzealous in my efforts to get to the bottom of the case of the campus criminal.
Unfortunately, like Dixie, Uncle Frank also failed to be impressed by my "for the greater good" logic, and he'd proceeded
to terminate my employment at the Dairee Freeze, declaring I was persona non gratis. Once I got some time to Google that particular
phrase, I'd decide how upset to be.
I padded out of my bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen around 6:00 a.m. wearing nothing but an it was a dark and stormy night Snoopy T-shirt and red bikinis and walked right into Ranger Rick Townsend.
"Oommphf!"
His chest was a rock-solid wall of khaki. I brushed my tangled hair out of my half-opened eyes and, in
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