“Regan, what if I make a suggestion?” he said. “Listen to the first two podcast episodes. See if your curiosity is piqued. If so, lending your expertise would help Lucas in his project. One evening, one interview—it might help steer the direction of the case. Because I must admit, I have been curious about where Candace Swain was before she died, as well as who killed her. Was it a crime of opportunity? Passion? Revenge?”

“You read too many mysteries,” Regan said, grateful that he’d lightened the mood.

“She was a student here, after all. Her unknown whereabouts was an outlier in the case at the time, one the police never sufficiently explained.”

“Now you’re sounding like a lawyer,” she said with a slight smile. “You know the police don’t always share the information they have, especially with the public.” Yet Henry was right: the case was more than a little intriguing. She’d always been a sucker for cold cases. Some of her most memorable evenings growing up were spent talking to her dad and older brother about unusual crimes and missing persons, trying to come up with ideas about what happened. She wondered if Henry knew about that. It wouldn’t surprise her if her dad had told him, or if he just remembered her inquisitive nature from college.

“No promises,” she said, “but I’ll listen. Do you have a number where I can reach you tomorrow?”

Lucas pulled a page out of a college-ruled notebook and scribbled his name, phone number, email, and the name and URL of the podcast. “I live in an apartment off campus, the other side of downtown. We record here at the campus radio station, a studio in the communications building. Lizzy handles all the equipment and stuff, and the idea was that she would screen callers—but we’ve only had two. We have numbers—people are listening. Not a huge number live, not yet, but we’ve had several hundred downloads. If you would, maybe come thirty minutes before we go on? Then I can run through the program, answer any questions you have, get you comfortable.”

“I said no promises.” She finished her drink and put the glass on the Coconino County coaster. She’d said she wasn’t committed, but she had a lot of questions. She’d never been able to let questions like this go. A cold case? Here, at NAU? There was a lot of mystery surrounding Candace Swain’s murder.

“Henry, thank you for everything. Surprisingly, I enjoyed lecturing today.”

“And the class...?” he asked hopefully.

She just laughed.

“Lucas, I’ll let you know either way, okay?”

“Thank you. I really appreciate your time.”

Lucas watched Regan Merritt leave Professor Clarkson’s office. He put his head in his hands. “I didn’t do that right. I was all over the place, trying to convince her to help.”

“You did just fine, Lucas. Just fine.”