There were others as well, new faces in the college. She was doing background checks on all of them, not that she had found anything even hinting of illegal activity. But then, she’d only gotten started and everyone had something they wished to hide. Everyone.

Besides, who was to say that the suspects were limited to the faculty of the college? What about other students? Or someone who wasn’t enrolled but used the campus as his personal hunting ground?

Slow down, you still have no bodies…just a single arm wearing nail polish that, according to the lab, was about as popular as grits for breakfast.

She looked again at the list of dark vans and wondered if any of the vehicles could be connected with the missing girls.

She was about ready to run to the employee lunch room in search of a diet soft drink when her phone rang. Sweeping the receiver to her ear, she balanced it between her chin and shoulder. “Homicide, Detective Laurent.”

“Yeah, this is Lacey, in Missing Persons.” With the fire-engine red hair and tight clothes. The one with the attitude. “I was hopin’ to catch y’all.”

“What is it?” Portia asked, but she felt that tingle, that little sensation telling her more bad news was on the horizon.

“I figured you’d want to know ’bout this. We have another missin’ person, over to the college. All Saints. A student. Ariel O’Toole. Her mother faxed over the report from Houston, that’s where they live, well she and the stepfather. They’re on their way. She hasn’t heard from her daughter in over a week and none of her friends, the ones she knows, have seen her. The daughter’s not returning her calls and that’s supposedly unusual,” Lacey said with a bit of sarcasm in her voice. “Imagine that.”

“Are you sending a uniform over?”

“A car’s already been dispatched. Thought you might want to tag along.”

“You got that right. I’ll pick up a copy of the report on my way.” She hung up. Another one. Damn it, another one.

Sliding on her shoulder holster, she strapped in her sidearm, then threw on her coat, and grabbed her purse. She was heading toward the hallway to Missing Persons when she ran into Del Vernon. She gave him the abbreviated version of what was happening as he fell into step beside her.

“I’ll come along,” he said, jaw set, dark eyes cold. “I hate to say it, Laurent, but there’s more to this than kids disappearing by choice,” he said, holstering his weapon and grabbing his overcoat.

“Glad you finally got there, Vernon,” she said as they walked toward the doors of the station together.