Face of Murder

Shelley snapped her fingers, apparently struck by sudden inspiration. “Was it James Wardenford?”

“Oh, yeah,” the student replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Now that you said it, I remember. Yeah. Professor Wardenford.”

“You have been almost useless,” Zoe informed him, before nodding to Shelley and leading the way back out of the building.

“I’m calling him now,” Shelley said, hitting buttons on her cell and lifting it to her ear. “We’d better get over to his apartment. If Matthias is there right now, he’s in danger.”

“And probably stinking drunk,” Zoe remarked, getting back behind the wheel of the car.

Shelley slid into the passenger seat, then swore and took the cell from her ear. “No answer. I’ll try him again.”

Zoe paused only to search for the address in her GPS—easy enough to find, since she knew how many places she had been since then and could simply choose the right option in the history—before hitting the accelerator and pulling out. “How did you think of Wardenford?”

Shelley was playing with her pendant with the hand that wasn’t holding her cell. “He was dismissed before Matthias had his accident. If he’s been out of the loop, he might be the only person from Georgetown who Matthias had contact with that doesn’t know about it. Either that, or Matthias has already been to him for help before and Wardenford figured out what was wrong, and now Matthias wants revenge. I don’t know. Wardenford didn’t mention Matthias when we knew the equations were all tangled up. I’m guessing he would still be in the dark.”

“Why would he go there, if not to kill him?” Zoe frowned, hitting the gas to avoid colliding with a slow-moving car as she made a sharp turn.

“If he isn’t aware that Matthias has been having any difficulties, then he could represent the last person from Matthias’s old life who will act as though nothing has happened. Treat him as though he’s still as capable as he was. That could be huge for him.”

Zoe thought about it. She had something that was entirely the opposite: the relief of being around the very few people who did know her diagnosis, and no longer having to pretend that she was like everyone else. But if everyone knew, except from a select few? She could see how there might be comfort in that, too. If her cover was blown and people started treating her even more like an alien, then she would want to go back to the one person who still thought she was just rude and aloof.

“But Wardenford knows about the equations now,” Zoe realized. “If he connects the dots in any way—if Matthias somehow shows his hand—”

Shelley finished her thought. “Matthias will kill him.”

Zoe pushed her foot down further on the accelerator. This was a matter of timing only. Either they got there before Wardenford was murdered, or after.

She hoped to god that it would be before.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Matthias shook his head. He was getting the hang of this now. The focus. He was able to get the words out. “I’m just glad the real killer has been caught.” There! See! A whole th—a th—a sentence. A whole sentence.

He was too busy being proud of himself to watch Waterfo—Wardenford. But when he spoke he sounded nervous, like his head snakes were all swimming, like something churned within him.

“Caught? Did they say who it was?”

Matthias twisted his face up with the concentration. Say it. Say. The words. Come on. “Pear. Uh, white. Pear white. No, something…” He knew he was so far off. So far off. He was about to get caught. Wardenford would know. He would know about Matthias’s snakes and how they all slithered in the wrong direction now.

“Dr. Applewhite,” Wardenford corrected quietly. “How did you hear about that? I haven’t seen anything in the news.”

Mistake, mistake! Didn’t check the news, didn’t read the—scrolls. Should have checked. Oh, Matthias, you got yourself caught. Those snakes were getting away.

Matthias shrugged to get the message down to as few words as he could. He couldn’t risk it, not now, with the—picnic in him. Not picnic. Focus. Explain it. “Campus rumors,” he said.

There was silence. Maybe Matthias said too much. Maybe the picnic—the panic was justified. Oh, but how awful it would be if he knew! If he saw the snakes!

A loud noise outside, and Wardenford rose to look out the window. “Goodness me,” he muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t be making that kind of racket this early in the morning. Some people are still asleep. What time is it now, anyway?”

Matthias looked at his watch. Read it confidently without thinking. “It’s nine-sixteen.”

There was a long silence.

Matthias saw Wardenford look back at his watch and checked his own again. Focused. Squinted his eyes one way, then another. Wardenford was still looking outside. The time was wrong. The time he read out was wrong.