Faith smiled back. "Does Julie go to Tech?"
He shook his head again. "She went to State a few quarters, then dropped that, too. She tends bar nights in Buckhead."
Buckhead was a wealthy section of Atlanta known for its nightlife. Faith gathered Julie was at least twenty-one if she was allowed to serve alcohol. The four-year age difference between her and Emma Campano would have meant the girls would not likely have crossed paths.
Faith asked Gabe, "How'd you hurt your wrist?"
He colored slightly. "Stupid stuff. I slipped and fell on my hand."
"That must've hurt."
He held up the cast, as if he still couldn't believe he'd injured himself. "Like a mofo."
"Which bar does Julie work at?"
He dropped his arm but his guard went back up. "Why?"
Faith guessed he'd been cooperative enough to warrant an explanation. "Gabe, I need to tell you what happened to Adam today."
There was something like a loud "woof" echoing in the hallway. Gabe whispered, "Fuck."
Two seconds later, Faith met the reason behind the expletive.
Gabe reluctantly made introductions. "This is Tommy Albertson, my dormmate."
He was as pasty as Gabe was dark, and Faith knew instantly that Gabe's assessment had been right on the money: the kid was an asshole. As if to prove it, Tommy's tongue practically hung out of his mouth as he stared at her. "Yowza. Me likes a woman with a gun."
Gabe hissed, "Shut up, man. Adam's in trouble."
"I was about to tell Gabe.. ." Faith directed her words to the young man. "Adam was killed this morning."
"Killed?" Tommy rocked onto the balls of his feet as he pointed his fingers at Faith. "Shit, dude, it was him, right? They said it was a Tech student. Fuck me—that was Adam?"
Gabe's confusion was obvious. "He was killed? As in murdered?"
Tommy became even more excited. "Dude, some crazy bitch strangled him to death. To death, man. With her bare hands. Seriously, it was all over the news. Where've you been all day, bro?"
Gabe's throat worked. His eyes moistened and his sense of betrayal was profound as he looked at Faith for confirmation. "Is it true?"
She nodded her head once, furious that someone in the department had leaked out that Adam had gone to Tech. "It's more complicated than that, but, yes, Adam is dead."
"How?"
"I can't really talk about details with you, Gabe. I can say that Adam acted heroically, that he was trying to help someone, and then things went very wrong. A girl was kidnapped, and we're looking for her, but we need your help."
His lower lip quivered as he tried to control his emotions.
By contrast, Tommy seemed almost exhilarated. "Are you here to question me?" he asked. "Bring it on. I've got all kinds of information."
Faith asked, "What kind of information?"
"Well, nothing, like, concrete or anything. He was a quiet dude, but you know, there was that intensity underneath. Like...danger."
Faith struggled to remain passive, though she would have loved to take Tommy Albertson to the morgue and ask him what exactly was so exciting about his friend being dead. "Did Adam have a girlfriend? Did he hang around with anyone in particular?"
As with everything else, Tommy found this extremely entertaining. He clamped his hands on Gabe's shoulders. "Two questions, one answer!"
Gabe squirmed away from him. "Fuck off, asshole. You never even talked to Adam. He hated your guts."
She tried, "Gabe—"
"Fuck you, too." He left the room. A few moments later, she heard a door slam.
Faith narrowed her eyes at Tommy, resisting the urge to tear him down to size. He'd stepped a few feet into the room, and she didn't like the way he was crowding her space. She knew that she would need to establish control or there would be a problem. "Maybe you'd like to answer these questions at the station?"
He showed a toothy grin, coming closer. "My dad's a lawyer, lady. Unless it gets you wet slapping the cuffs on a virile young stud such as myself, no way am I getting into the back of your car."
Faith kept her tone even. "Then I guess we have nothing to talk about."
He smiled smugly, closing the space between them. "Guess so."
"Could you leave now?" When he didn't move, she shouldered him back into the hall. He was taken off guard, or maybe she was madder than she thought, but the push turned into more of a shove, and he landed flat on his ass.
"Jesus," he whined, sitting up. "What is wrong with you?"
She turned the thumb latch on the inside doorknob and pulled the door firmly closed. "Your friend is dead, a girl is missing, and your reaction to all this is to laugh and make jokes about it. What do you think is wrong with me?"
Her words hit their mark, but they didn't have the desired effect. "Why are you such a bitch?"
"Because I have to deal with assholes like you every day."
"Is there a problem here?" A well-dressed Hispanic man was coming up the stairs. He sounded slightly out of breath and a bit concerned that a student was on the floor.
Tommy scrambled to stand. He had the look of a spoiled child who was relishing the prospect of tattling. Faith dealt with it the only way she knew how, admitting, "He got aggressive and I pushed him out of my way."
The man had reached them by now. There was something familiar about his face, and Faith realized he was one of the many nameless administrators she'd seen at Jeremy's freshman orientation the month before.
There was no recognition in his eyes as Victor Martinez looked from Tommy to Faith, then back again. "Mr. Albertson, we have over eighteen thousand students enrolled in this school. It doesn't bode well for you that we are barely out of our first week and I already know your name and student ID number by heart."
"I didn't—"
He turned his attention to Faith. "I'm Dean Martinez," he said, offering his hand. "You're here about Adam Humphries?"
She shook his hand. "Humphrey," she corrected.
"I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances." He kept ignoring Tommy, who muttered an insult under his breath before he skulked away. "Maybe you could walk with me? I'm sorry that it seems like I'm not giving this the attention I should, but the first week of school is grueling and I'm between meetings."
"Of course." She caught the scent of his cologne as she followed him toward the stairs. Though it was late in the day, he was clean-shaven and his suit was still neatly pressed. Not counting Will Trent—and why would she?—it had been a long time since Faith had been around a man who paid attention to basic hygiene.
"Here," Victor said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. "This is the master key to his room, his class schedule and his contact details." His hand brushed hers as he gave her the paper, and Faith was so surprised by the sensation it brought that she dropped the paper.
"Whoops," he said, kneeling down to retrieve it. The moment could have been awkward—Victor on one knee in front of her— but he managed to make it look graceful, scooping up the page and standing in one fluid motion.