Now, staring out the window, her profile had frozen again, all evidence of her grief smoothed away. She was a swan gliding at the edge of the Schuylkill River, for all appearances elegant, quiet, and still. All the motion occurred beneath the surface, hidden from view. He wondered for the hundredth time how many layers he’d have to uncover to find the real her.

She fascinated and challenged him.

With a sinking sensation, he realized getting closer to her would require more touchy-feely type discussions. And dear God, he was going to have to be the one to initiate them, which was the complete opposite of the natural order of the universe.

Louisa’s phone buzzed. “Excuse me.”

She got up from the table, went outside, and answered the call on the sidewalk.

She returned a few moments later and slid her phone into her purse. “Xavier English is the professor of Celtic studies. He comes to the museum frequently. He’s also Zoe’s mentor. Professor English will talk to us if we meet him off campus. He doesn’t want us to let anyone know he’s speaking with you.”

“I can understand that. Where does he want to meet?”

“He’s coming here. It’s dark enough, and he can always claim I didn’t tell him you were here,” Louisa said.

“How did you convince him to come?”

“I told him I thought you were innocent.”

“And that was enough?”

She raised a shoulder. “He said he wants to decide for himself.”

Ten minutes later, the door opened. Louisa half stood and waved to a man in the doorway. With a nod, he threaded through the tables to their booth. Professor English wasn’t the old geek Conor expected. Fiftyish, the professor was six feet tall and athlete-fit. His salt-and-pepper hair was thick and cut short. He wore jeans and a button-up shirt.

He greeted Louisa with a warm smile and a handshake.

She introduced him to Conor. “Thanks for coming all the way over here, Xavier.”

He sat next to her. “I’m worried about Zoe too. Punctuality might not be her strength, but running a little behind isn’t the same thing as missing classes and her work at the museum. That’s not like her. But do you really think she’s been abducted? It seems so unreal. The police have been all over campus the last two days.” Xavier’s eyes flickered to Conor. “The picture of you on the news doesn’t look much like you.”

Conor shrugged. “It’s old, and my face was beat to shit.”

“Why should I believe you’re not guilty?” Xavier asked.

“I never met Zoe before Monday night,” Conor said. “And isn’t that backward? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“The police think they have enough evidence to make you the lead suspect,” Xavier said. “They’re showing your picture around the college and asking everyone if they’ve seen you.”