CHAPTER EIGHT

The guy was nervous. No question.

But there was nothing relaxing about having a cop show up at your workplace.

“So, when was the last time you saw her?” Brandon asked.

Cooper Collins darted a glance at the barista behind the counter. He and Brandon were seated at a too-small table in the coffee shop attached to the bookstore where Cooper worked. The twenty-six-year-old had an ice water in front of him with a long straw. He hadn’t taken a sip of it yet, just kept playing with the straw wrapper.

“I told you,” Cooper said. “It was back in April sometime. We met for a beer.”

“And since then? Has she called you?”

“Just that time in May, like I mentioned.”

Another glance at the beautiful barista. He seemed interested in her reaction, even though the woman was about six feet tall and looked way out of his league.

Cooper Collins was a grad student in the UT physics department. He was five four, skinny, and wore rimless round glasses. He had sandy blond hair and freckles that covered his forearms. No scratch marks, though, or signs he’d been in a struggle recently.

“What else can you tell me about the phone call?” Brandon asked. He kept asking the same questions in different ways, zeroing in on any inconsistencies.

He sighed. “She wanted to grab a movie, like I said. But I couldn’t go. I had to work.”

“What was it?”

“Huh?”

“The movie.”

Another glance at the woman behind the counter.

“Uh . . . Breakfast Club.”

Brandon lifted an eyebrow.

“They were running a John Hughes marathon at the theater that weekend.”

Brandon leaned back in his chair comfortably, as though he planned to stay awhile. “So, you couldn’t make the movie with her. Did you make a plan for later?”

“What? No. I told you, that was the last time I talked to her.”

Cooper twisted the straw wrapper around his finger.

“And when you guys got together, did she usually call you, or did you call her?”

“She called me.”

“Where did you meet?”

Cooper looked confused. “Meet?”

“Where did you first meet her?”

“Oh.” He sighed. “This place on South Congress. Decker’s. We were there with some friends and they introduced us.”

“And what happened?”

A shrug. “Nothing. She came by my place later. No big deal.”

“So, 325 Clark Street, number 104.”

He went pale. “How did—”

“I looked you up, Cooper.”

His Adam’s apple moved up and down. The kid had no criminal record, so he wasn’t used to dealing with cops. He looked like he wanted to bolt out of there.

“Have you ever been to her apartment?” Brandon asked.

The tip of his finger was purple now as he strangled it with the straw wrapper.

“A couple times, yeah.”

“When was the last time?”

“I don’t know. April, probably? I picked her up for a movie.”

“Anything else you guys did together?”