Portrait in Death by J. D. Robb Page A

been different for Rachel, Eve thought as she stood in the back of the imaging lab and watched the workshop. It had been night, and there wouldn't have been so many students. Still Rachel would have been at a work station, like many of these young people, refining, defining, adjusting, admiring, the images she'd transferred from reality to camera, from camera to screen.
    What had she been thinking as she'd taken that last class? Had her mind been on her work, or had it wandered toward spending the night with her friends? Had she listened to Professor Browning, as some of the students were now? Or had she focused on her own work, her own world?
    Maybe she'd flirted with one of the boys who worked nearby. There were mild flirtations going on-the body language, the eye contact, the occasional intimate whisper that made up the mating dance.
    She'd liked to date, she'd liked to dance. She'd enjoyed being twenty. And she'd never be a day older.
    She listened while Browning wrapped things up, outlined assignments, and she made sure the professor saw and acknowledged her as the class began to disperse.
    They coupled up, Eve noted. Or grouped up, with a few solos winding through the cliques. That sort of thing hadn't changed since her school days, she mused.
    God, she'd hated school.
    She'd been a solo, by personal choice. No point in getting close to anyone, she thought now. Just passing through here, just marking time until I'm out of the goddamn system and making my own choices.
    Which had been the Academy. The department. And another system.
    "Lieutenant Dallas." Browning gestured Eve forward. She'd tamed her hair somewhat by pulling it back, pinning it up, but she still looked lush and exotic. Hardly Eve's internal vision of a college professor.
    "Is there news?" she asked. "News on Rachel?"
    "The investigation's ongoing" was all Eve would say. "I have a few questions. What would Rachel have been working on in here?"
    "Wait." Leeanne drew out a memo book. "That's an introductory course, summer semester. We have a number of part-time students, like Rachel, and a good portion of full-timers on a fast track during summer session," she continued as she flipped through the book. "Not quite as big a load as during the fall and spring semesters, but... Ah yes, Faces. Portraits in the City. The connection between image and imager."
    "Would you have any of her recent work?"
    "Yes, I should have some samples and finished assignments in my files. Hold on just a minute."
    She went to her computer, keyed in a password, gave a series of commands. "As I told you, Rachel was a conscientious student. More, she was having fun with this course. It wasn't a make or break for her, simply a filler, but she put effort into her assignments, and wasn't just warming a seat. Here. Take a look."
    She stepped back so Eve could see the screen.
    "Remke. It's the guy who runs the deli across from the 24/7 where she worked."
    "You can see she captured a certain toughness by the angle of his head, the jut of his chin. He's a bulldog from the look of him."
    Eve remembered the way he'd clocked City Maintenance. "That's on target."
    "Yet there's a kindness in his eyes that she catches as well. There's the staging, the sheen of perspiration on his face, and the coolness of the tubs of salads in the chill box behind him for a good contrast and sense of place. It's a nice portrait. There are a few more, but this was the best of them."
    "I'd like a copy of anything she turned in."
    "All right. Computer, copy and print all imaging documents from Rachel Howard's class file." She angled toward Eve as the computer went to work. "I don't understand how these will help you find her killer."
    "I want to see what she saw, and maybe I'll see what her killer saw. The students who just left this class, most of them had bags. Disc bags or portfolios."
    "Education requires a lot of baggage. A student will need a notebook, a PPC, discs, probably a recorder, and for this course, a