At the library, she veered away from the heart of the school as Knauss Hall was at the edge of campus not far from the large old mansions that had been converted to sorority and fraternity houses. Hurrying as the night closed in, she looked down the narrow, tree-flanked street lined by estatelike houses. Her gaze landed on a pillared white plantation-style mansion, home to the Delta Gammas, a sorority she’d pledged at her father’s insistence all those years ago, but the whole Greek thing had never worked for her. To this day she didn’t know where even one of her sorority sisters was, nor did she care. She’d never felt like a “DG” while here. Not only had Rick Bentz insisted she join what she’d later referred to as “the sisterhood,” but he’d also laid down the law and forced her into tae kwon do lessons as well as teaching her all about the use and safety of firearms. Although the sorority thing hadn’t taken, she’d gotten a black belt in her martial art of choice. She also knew her way around guns and was a decent-enough shot.

She noticed a car moving steadily up the street, creeping along, as if the driver were looking for something, or someone. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose. She squinted, unable to make out the driver.

Most likely, it was nothing. He was probably just lost and searching for an address, she decided, though all the talk about missing girls and possible foul play made her a little suspicious.

Maybe some of your dad’s paranoia is finally rubbing off on you!

The glare of the car’s headlights reached Kristi and the vehicle slowed even more, tires crunching. The low-lying mist rose over the fogged windows, making it even more difficult to see who was behind the wheel. Was the driver a man? A woman? Was someone in the passenger seat?

Church bells tolled the hour, reverberating chimes reminding her of the time.

“Hell,” she whispered. Late again!

She kicked into a jog, leaving the slow-moving car and its mystery driver behind. Running easily along the walkway, she cut through the grass and trees lining the brick and stone building that housed the science labs.

She heard the car pick up speed, then slow again to the point where the engine was only idling. Kristi glanced over her shoulder, still unable to see who was in the darkened vehicle. She wished she was close enough to get the license number. All she saw was that it was a dark domestic-looking sedan, probably a Chevy, but she couldn’t be sure.

So what? A car is going slow. Big deal. What does it matter if it’s a Ford, a Chevrolet, or a friggin’ Lamborghini? Get over it.