Greenwood remained the master of tact. “True, but no big conspiracy there. The man was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s, and he didn’t feel like losing the fight.”

“Pussy.” Jane returned to her seat at the laptop. “I had a double mastectomy. You see me check out early?”

Changing the subject, Greenwood opened his hands. “We have some dirty laundry, Caitlin, but nothing too bad. You’re welcome to all of it.”

Maverick laughed, then fired a shot Caitlin’s way. “Is that why you’re here? You gonna do an expose on BPD like you did in LA? See how many ‘fallen angels’ we have? Maybe see how we small-town amateurs botched the Chapman disappearance?”

Caitlin met her head on. “Actually, I’m writing about sexual abuse on college campuses, contrasting my own experience twenty years ago with attacks on women today. I chose this town because I went to IU, and yes, part of my piece may include Angela’s disappearance. But I’m not looking to embarrass anyone or focus on the day-to-day policing in this department.” She leaned forward. “Why? Did you botch the Chapman disappearance?”

Jane whistled low through her teeth. “What a bitch. I just might like you, Caitlin Bergman.”

Caitlin smiled. “I had no doubt, but that’s not an answer.”

Greenwood jumped back in. “About Chapman, did Chief Renton explain the guidelines?”

Caitlin started her cell phone’s audio recorder. “No photos of anything you show me. I can record, but audio only, and I’ll supply you with a copy of the recording before I leave today. That way, in the event I take anything from this exchange to print, there’s no chance of misquotation.”

“Great,” Greenwood said. “Jane’s going to cover the basics. It’s my case, but it helps to hear someone else talk through it.”

Caitlin slid her phone closer to Detective Maverick. “And you’re familiar with the time line, Detective?”

Maverick nodded. “From patrol to K9, there’s not a BPD officer who doesn’t have the Chapman time line memorized.”

Chapter 13

CHAPTER

13

DETECTIVE MAVERICK HIT the lights and began. “Two years ago, Angela Chapman was wrapping up her sophomore year. Know where the Varsity Villas are?”

Caitlin nodded. “Big townhouses near the stadium, known for party-friendly types?”

Greenwood, seated at the laptop, pulled up a satellite map on the extended screen.

Maverick pointed out a group of apartments separated by a strip of forest. “Chapman lived in Cedar Creek, the smaller complex directly north. She woke up there the day in question, a Friday two weeks before the end of the spring semester. Her roommate, Devon Miller, saw Chapman grab a granola bar around ten AM on her way to the gym. All smiles, no worries.”

Greenwood switched from the map to a spreadsheet. “We traced two text messages from the Student Recreational Sports Center between eleven and noon.”