“They said he might have had some plaque on the folds of his brain, but I don’t think that would have scared Chris. I think he was haunted by something he saw or did. He never told me. The police have their own fraternal secrets.” Isabelle must have noticed Caitlin’s stunned expression. “Now I’m sorry. Here you are ready to go on a date, and I’m depressing the heavens out of you. Which officer do you have the date with? I may know him.”

“Jerry Greenwood.”

The woman’s pleasant smile returned. “Oh, Jerry. I’m sure you know about his wife. She passed two months before Chris.”

Caitlin nodded. “We’ve talked about her some.”

“As far as I know, he’s a great guy.”

Caitlin suddenly wanted out of the house. Sharing sheets with guys like Greenwood or Martinez to get preferential treatment had never bothered her, since both sides knew the score and got to enjoy the benefits, but lying to a widow felt cheaper somehow, dirtier. If Chris Shepherd had indeed shot himself because he’d let Chapman’s murderers get away, the public would soon find out, and innocent Isabelle would have to deal with his mess all over again.

Isabelle nudged Caitlin’s arm. “You know what? Jerry’s got a great voice. You should say you’ll play if he’ll sing.”

Relieved, Caitlin shut her sheet music and stood. “That’s a good idea, and that saves me half an hour to get ready.”

Caitlin thanked the woman for her time, moved across the room, but stopped for one last look at the smiling girl who’d just been pinned—as in given the pin of her boyfriend’s fraternity. She couldn’t see the design without magnification, but a simple web search in the car validated her hunch.

In his last bio on an archived copy of the BPD’s website, Detective Chris Shepherd included his status as both an alumnus of Indiana University and a brother in Delta Omega Tau—the same fraternity as David Amireau and Kieran Michelson.

Chapter 55

CHAPTER

55

CAITLIN FOUND LAKSHMI in the Daily Student newsroom. “Walk me through Saturday morning, when Angela disappeared.”

“Again?” Lakshmi looked up from her keyboard, distracted. “I’ve got deadlines on both Paige Lauffer and the Bro-duce farm updates.”

“They can wait, Lakshmi. The initial report is gone.”

Lakshmi turned her way. “Wait, what report?”

“From Chris Shepherd, the detective on the scene. There’s a typed version, but it’s signed by Chief Renton, not Shepherd, so who knows if he even wrote it. I have the whole Chapman file—”

“What does it say about me?”

“Focus up, Miss ‘I’ve-Got-Deadlines.’ Greenwood and Maverick gave me a practiced lecture, then you gave me the time line of the night before, but I need to know your version of what happened from when you calleSd the cops until when Greenwood took over.”