“I’m just saying that you were one of the last people to see her before she disappeared.”

“Say what you mean the first time,” he snapped. “That’s a big difference. And yes, apparently I was one of the last people to see Dionne before she disappeared. But this is really no business of yours, is it, Miss Bentz? If you have some questions about your assignments, or class, please”—he waved in a “come on” gesture—“ask, but that’s all I’ll talk about.” He no longer made any pretense at smiling. “I am a busy man.”

“What do you know about a cult of people who worship vampires? Here, on campus.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve never seen one of these before?” She dug beneath her turtleneck to flash the vial of blood.

He glared at the vial as if it were the embodiment of evil. “What is that?” he asked in little more than a whisper.

“A vial of blood. Human blood.”

“Oh, God.” He closed his eyes for a second and drew in a long breath. For a long time she didn’t think he would answer, but then he surprised her by admitting, “I’ve seen it, or one like it.”

“Where?”

“A student. Her name is O.” He looked about to confide in Kristi, then shook his head. “I can’t discuss her or anyone else. But I know she’s very outspoken and wears the vial almost militantly.”

That much was true. Kristi’s own father had interviewed the girl on an earlier case and she had proudly shown off her unique jewelry.

“Where did you get that?” Grotto asked.

“I found it in my apartment.”

“Your apartment?”

“Tara Atwater used to live there.”

“And you think it was hers?” he said, the corners of his mouth tightening, the temperature in the room seeming to drop ten degrees.

“I do. DNA will tell.”

“You’ve had some of the blood tested?”

She nodded.

His gaze was cold. “If the police were going to run any tests, they would have taken the necklace. You’re bluffing, Miss Bentz.”

“I sent drops in…claimed they were my own. I have a friend who works in the lab.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Don’t you care what happened to your students, Dr. Grotto?”

“They’re runaways.” He said it as if he believed it. Or as if he wanted to believe it.

“You think all four just left town? All four who attended your class? All four who were English majors? All four just up and decided to take a hike? That’s one helluva coincidence, don’t you think?”

“It’s more common than you think. They’re young and, from what I understand, troubled.”

“And missing.”