Caitlin leaned toward the gear. “You are listening to the one and only Caitlin Bergman.”

Maverick’s lips might have curled a millimeter. “Miss Bergman, could you describe what you saw take place on Third Street last night?”

Caitlin recounted her walk while Maverick jotted notes on a pad.

“One last question. How long would you say it was from when you started talking to Miss Baker and the male officer to when the female officer arrived?”

“One, maybe two, minutes tops.”

“Great.” She stopped the recorder. “Greenwood wants to know if you want to get lunch.”

“Just ate.”

Maverick stood, opened the door. “You should watch him eat. It’s walking distance.”

Caitlin took the cue and followed her out.

*   *   *

She found Greenwood on a park bench. “So the bike cops wear body cameras?”

He combined a nod with a swallow of grocery-store salad.

“Why bother me if you knew Laura Baker lied?”

“Video footage is fine, but an eyewitness is even better. Plus—”

She took over. “Plus, you wanted to see if I’m biased against law enforcement in the town where I was raped. I’m a professional, Greenwood.”

“So are we.” He laughed. “And you looked pretty drunk.”

Caitlin shook her head. “Why’d she make the accusation?”

“’Cause of a scholarship with a morality clause. She’ll lose the money if she’s caught drinking underage. Some kind of church thing.”

Caitlin thought about the desperation of a selfish choice, wondered how desperate the last people to see Chapman had felt.

Greenwood stood, dumped his food in a trash can, and walked toward an unmarked cruiser. “Meet anyone in the sheriff’s department yet?”

“Not yet. Something happen?”

“Missing person, female, twenty-four years old.” He opened the car door and pointed to the passenger seat. “Interested in a ride along?”

Caitlin got in. Greenwood pulled out and turned right on Tenth Street. “Find anything at Chapman’s apartment?”

“You have someone following me, Jerry?”

“Why? Did you think someone was following you?”

“No,” Caitlin said, sure no one had. “The cameras at Angela’s?”

“That door opens, I get a notice on my phone.”

Caitlin thought about Lakshmi’s keys and what the BPD thought about her visits.

“Where are we headed?”

“Little town outside of Bloomington called Unionville. Local woman, Paige Lauffer, part-time waitress in Bloomington, part-time student at IU, didn’t show up to work yesterday.”

“And they called you why?”

He waited for traffic. “Interdepartmental task force. Campus, city, county, state, federal. One from each office, plus the surrounding agencies. Woman disappears, we all get a call.”

Caitlin watched the scenery change from strip malls and campus buildings to single-family homes surrounded by trees. The houses looked safe and sturdy in the sunshine, but would a scream in the night reach a neighbor’s ears? Would the welcome mats welcome a woman covered in her own blood?