Just Past Midnight. Amanda Stevens

from a small town in East Texas, and most of the other students grew up in places like Boston, New York, Philadelphia. They drove fancy cars, wore expensive clothes. Had money to burn. Not Danielle. She was there on a full scholarship and didn’t have much dough for anything extra. So Michael started buying her things.”

      “What kind of things?”

      “Books, CDs. Things like that. Then he gave her some jewelry, and I guess that’s when she decided to reel him in. They were inseparable for a while, but I don’t think anyone expected it to last. They were just too different.”

      Richard frowned. “Because he had money and she didn’t?”

      “It was more than that.” Kane settled back against his chair. “They were both journalism majors, but Michael was one of those idealistic types. He wanted to go live in a tent in Somalia or Bangladesh or some damn place and write about things that could change the world. I got the impression that Danielle Williams was a lot more ambitious than that.”

      “That doesn’t make her a killer,” Richard said.

      “Maybe, maybe not.” Kane shrugged again. “But the thing that’s bothered me all these years is that trip Michael canceled right before the fire. If he had a change of heart, why not tell his girlfriend about it? Everyone knew he was crazy about her. And yet he stays in town and doesn’t let her know? Something just doesn’t add up there.”

      “According to the police report, Danielle was in her room the whole night,” Richard said. “Her roommate corroborated her story.”

      “Yeah, but a girl as clever as Danielle Williams could have gotten around the roommate.”

      “How?”

      Kane thought about it for a minute. “Suppose she put something in the roommate’s drink earlier that night. The same drug that turned up in Michael’s autopsy. Danielle could have slipped out, gone over to Michael’s room, started the fire, and then hurried back to her dorm before anyone was the wiser. When the roommate woke up and heard the sirens, she would have assumed that Danielle had been there the whole time.”

      “Was any of this ever investigated?”

      “The Hanover police went through the motions, but there was no physical evidence linking the girl to the fire. No witnesses. No motive, apparently. At least not at first. The people who ran that university pulled a lot of weight in Hanover. The president, the dean, the Board of Regents—they all wanted the whole thing over and done with so that they could begin damage control.”

      Richard frowned. “You said apparently Danielle had no motive at first. What did you mean by that?”

      “It came out later that Michael had left her a lot of money. He received a trust fund when he turned twenty-one, and he left the whole thing, nearly half a million dollars, to Danielle. A few weeks later, she up and disappeared.”

      “She didn’t even tell her roommate where she was going?”

      “Not that I could find out. And the roommate wasn’t shy about talking. She told me about this shrink who used to call Danielle from time to time. Dr. Gaines, she called him. He was a therapist Danielle had been seeing before she left Texas. I called him up a few weeks after Danielle disappeared, but he refused to talk about her. The guy was downright hostile, but I got the distinct feeling that he knew where she was.”

      “Go on.”

      The prompt seemed to annoy Kane, and he scowled. “Look, I’m not on the witness stand here. And I’m starting to wonder why I should be doing all your legwork for you. If you’ve got hundred-dollar bills to throw around, why don’t you hire yourself an investigator?”

      “I did hire an investigator,” Richard said. “And he led me straight to you.”

      Kane’s scowl deepened. “I think we’re done here.”

      “Really? Because I don’t think we are,” Richard said slowly. “I don’t think so at all. We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. You know, the part where you explain why the university purged your employment records and why you failed to mention any previous law enforcement experience on your HPD application. So you see, Sergeant, I’d say this conversation is far from over.”

      “What the hell is this?” Kane growled. “Some kind of shakedown?”

      “I told you, all I want is the truth. Your leaving Drury University so abruptly had something to do with Michael’s death, didn’t it. The school had something on you, and you cut a deal. You agreed to leave quietly and keep your mouth shut about the fire. Am I getting warm yet, Sergeant Kane?”

      When the man didn’t answer, Richard leaned toward him. “Let’s get something straight here. I don’t give a damn why you left Drury. I don’t give a damn what they had on you. What I want to know is what you had on them. What scared the university and the Hanover Police Department so badly that they had to find a way to shut you up?”

      “Think about it, Berkley.” Kane’s voice was hard and angry, but there was a flicker of excitement—or triumph—in his gaze. “If a murder on campus was enough to frighten off prospective students, what do you think a serial killer on the loose would do for enrollment?”

      “A serial killer?” Richard was surprised by how unemotional his voice sounded. How detached he felt from Kane’s revelation. But he knew that at any moment his control could slip and he’d give himself away. He didn’t want to do that. Not yet.

      He glanced up to find Kane watching him. An unexpected chill shot through Richard. “You think Danielle Williams was a serial killer?”

      “Not was. Is.”

      “You know where she is?”

      Kane hesitated. “No. But I know what she’s done. Let’s just say, Michael Farmer’s not the only dead boy in her past.”

      “Don’t hold out on me now, Kane. What else do you have on her?”

      Kane eyed the money for a moment, as if contemplating asking for more, but before he had a chance, Richard brought out another roll of bills and tossed it onto the table.

      “What else did you find out about Danielle Williams?” he repeated.

      Kane ran a hand across his mouth, as if what he’d already said had left a bad taste. “After I talked to Dr. Gaines, I decided to do a little more digging into Danielle’s background, and I found out that she wasn’t exactly the innocent, small-town girl she tried to make everyone at Drury think she was. She was a smart, driven, ruthless student who, from the time she hit high school, had her eye on something called the Belmont Award. The prize was worth thousands in scholarship money, and according to a couple of teachers I spoke to, no one even came close to Danielle’s grades or accomplishments until her senior year. Then this rich kid moves to town who’s even smarter than she is. He outperforms Danielle in all their classes, and everyone assumes that he’ll win the Belmont. Then, get this—” It was Kane who leaned forward now. “He and his family die in a fire one night.”

      “Was there an investigation?”

      “The girl was questioned by the police, all right, but there wasn’t enough evidence to make an arrest. So she wins the award and heads off to Drury, where she meets Michael Farmer, who also dies in a fire, leaving her a small fortune. Now I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a pattern to me.”

      Somewhere inside Richard, an old rage stirred to life. A terrible fury he’d had to keep under control during his long search for Danielle Williams. And now that he’d finally found her, he wasn’t about to let anyone get in his way. Not even a paranoid cop who might be more than a little insane.

      As if reading his mind, Kane traced a fingertip down the barrel of his gun. Richard had a feeling the action was very deliberate. “There’s a name for women who kill their lovers for personal gain.”

      “Black widows,” Richard said.

      “That’s