some investigation on Gideon Cull’s background, see what you could find out.”
He thought it over.
“Give me some time, I’ll see what I can do.”
22
----
G ideon Cull’s office was hidden in a far-flung campus annex to the social sciences department. Jason Wade approached it, unsure he was doing the right thing.
He was out on a limb here, investigating Cull simply because Erika had leveled wild accusations against him. Two other students Jason had reached by phone backed up Erika’s claims, but it was Erika who’d provided their numbers.
This was a risk.
He hadn’t told Ron Nestor about his tip and he had no experience with this sort of thing. For all he knew, Erika was using him in a student vendetta against a teacher. Still, his gut was telling him to chase this down. If he was dead on the money, it’d be a helluva story. If he was dead wrong, it’d be a helluva lawsuit.
Here we go.
The nameplate on the wall read: GIDEON CULL. INSTRUCTOR, ANCIENT RELIGIOUS STUDIES . Be cool. Feel the guy out. Relax. Odds were, this would amount to nothing. He rapped on the door frame.
“Come,” a voice said.
Cull’s office was cluttered. Floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowed with books and papers next to a pair of avocado four-drawer file cabinets. Framed certificates, diplomas, photographs, and mementos were everywhere. In one corner, hanging from a hook, he saw what appeared to be a costume. A robe and what looked like a wig.
“You must be Jason, the reporter who called?”
“Yes, from the Mirror .”
“You got here fast, have a seat.” Cull set down his copy of a book by Camus. A page was folded to a chapter on the guillotine.
He looked to be in his early fifties and was a couple of inches taller than Jason. Maybe six two, with a solid, athletic build, large hands. He was clean shaven. An imposing figure. He coughed.
“Can’t seem to shake this cold. I got caught in that storm the other night.” He coughed again. “My apologies for not responding to your call earlier. I was helping in the search for Karen. Then I was out of town. I’m a part-time instructor and my volunteer work keeps me on the road.”
“Not a problem.”
“I’m afraid I can only give you twenty minutes before I have to go.”
“That should be enough time.” Jason opened his notebook.
“I’ve been following your reporting.” Cull cleared his throat. “What’s happened is horrible. I’ve tried to help with the search and prayers. Have police in Benton County made an identification?”
“Not yet.”
Cull nodded, blinking thoughtfully. “I pray for Karen. Only a few days ago, she sat in the chair you’re sitting in, anxious about her one-year mission to Ethiopia. I helped arrange it through our worldwide faith agency. She was nervous about the impact it would have on her life.”
“She came to you for counseling?”
“Unofficially.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a counselor, but students talk to me about problems. Course load, careers, relationships. In addition to the people I help off campus, I’ve come to be something of a confessor to young people here.”
“I see.”
Jason’s focus shifted to the robe, drawing Cull’s attention there too.
“Oh, that?” Cull asked. “A little inside joke with our drama teacher. I play Moses in a church pageant. That’s my garment and my beard. He likes me to remain close to my character.” He smiled.
Jason nodded, making a note as he formed a question arising from Erika’s accusations. “So students come to you with their personal troubles. I understand you’re known to them as someone who is”— Careful. Be very careful —“as someone who cares a great deal about their welfare.”
Cull’s smile weakened slightly.
“I admit, I show an interest when they come to talk to me. College can be stressful, as you know.” Cull glanced at his watch.
“Did Karen mention any problems you think might be related to her disappearance? You know,
He thought it over.
“Give me some time, I’ll see what I can do.”
22
----
G ideon Cull’s office was hidden in a far-flung campus annex to the social sciences department. Jason Wade approached it, unsure he was doing the right thing.
He was out on a limb here, investigating Cull simply because Erika had leveled wild accusations against him. Two other students Jason had reached by phone backed up Erika’s claims, but it was Erika who’d provided their numbers.
This was a risk.
He hadn’t told Ron Nestor about his tip and he had no experience with this sort of thing. For all he knew, Erika was using him in a student vendetta against a teacher. Still, his gut was telling him to chase this down. If he was dead on the money, it’d be a helluva story. If he was dead wrong, it’d be a helluva lawsuit.
Here we go.
The nameplate on the wall read: GIDEON CULL. INSTRUCTOR, ANCIENT RELIGIOUS STUDIES . Be cool. Feel the guy out. Relax. Odds were, this would amount to nothing. He rapped on the door frame.
“Come,” a voice said.
Cull’s office was cluttered. Floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowed with books and papers next to a pair of avocado four-drawer file cabinets. Framed certificates, diplomas, photographs, and mementos were everywhere. In one corner, hanging from a hook, he saw what appeared to be a costume. A robe and what looked like a wig.
“You must be Jason, the reporter who called?”
“Yes, from the Mirror .”
“You got here fast, have a seat.” Cull set down his copy of a book by Camus. A page was folded to a chapter on the guillotine.
He looked to be in his early fifties and was a couple of inches taller than Jason. Maybe six two, with a solid, athletic build, large hands. He was clean shaven. An imposing figure. He coughed.
“Can’t seem to shake this cold. I got caught in that storm the other night.” He coughed again. “My apologies for not responding to your call earlier. I was helping in the search for Karen. Then I was out of town. I’m a part-time instructor and my volunteer work keeps me on the road.”
“Not a problem.”
“I’m afraid I can only give you twenty minutes before I have to go.”
“That should be enough time.” Jason opened his notebook.
“I’ve been following your reporting.” Cull cleared his throat. “What’s happened is horrible. I’ve tried to help with the search and prayers. Have police in Benton County made an identification?”
“Not yet.”
Cull nodded, blinking thoughtfully. “I pray for Karen. Only a few days ago, she sat in the chair you’re sitting in, anxious about her one-year mission to Ethiopia. I helped arrange it through our worldwide faith agency. She was nervous about the impact it would have on her life.”
“She came to you for counseling?”
“Unofficially.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a counselor, but students talk to me about problems. Course load, careers, relationships. In addition to the people I help off campus, I’ve come to be something of a confessor to young people here.”
“I see.”
Jason’s focus shifted to the robe, drawing Cull’s attention there too.
“Oh, that?” Cull asked. “A little inside joke with our drama teacher. I play Moses in a church pageant. That’s my garment and my beard. He likes me to remain close to my character.” He smiled.
Jason nodded, making a note as he formed a question arising from Erika’s accusations. “So students come to you with their personal troubles. I understand you’re known to them as someone who is”— Careful. Be very careful —“as someone who cares a great deal about their welfare.”
Cull’s smile weakened slightly.
“I admit, I show an interest when they come to talk to me. College can be stressful, as you know.” Cull glanced at his watch.
“Did Karen mention any problems you think might be related to her disappearance? You know,
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