Free The Twenty-Three 3 (Promise Falls) by Linwood Barclay

out in the country, and their water came from a private well. But what if the source for that well was the same as the one for the town?
    Better safe than sorry.
    The light on her phone had been flashing the whole time she’d been sitting here, and she figured now was a good time to get caught up on a few things.
    The first two calls were job applications. Joyce made a note of their names and numbers. Clive’s death, and her promotion, had left a vacancy in the ranks, and she wanted to start interviewing the following week. She might have more than one spot to fill, given that some of the existing staff made Inspector Clouseau look like Sherlock Holmes.
    The third, which had come in the night before, shortly after ten, went like this:
    “Oh, hello. My name is Lester Plummer, in Cleveland. Our daughter, Lorraine, is attending Thackeray and has opted to stay to take a couple of summer courses, and . . .”
    His voice faltered. He cleared his throat and continued. “Lorraine is taking two courses, and staying in residence, and the thing is . . . I’d like you to call me the moment you receive this. Please.” He provided a number and hung up.
    Lorraine Plummer. Joyce recognized the name immediately. She was one of the three students who’d been attacked by Mason Helt. Joyce had spoken to her after the incident, before Clive had come upwith his plan to catch the guy. While the young woman was shaken up by the incident, it hadn’t traumatized her to the point that she wanted to go home.
    Maybe that had changed.
    Joyce entered the student’s name into the computer. She was, as her father had said, still at school. She’d kept her room in Albany House, one of several residential buildings scattered across the campus and, like all the others, close to empty. Joyce was betting Lorraine didn’t have to worry about late-night parties keeping her up, or having to wait to use any of the shared showering facilities.
    Maybe the fallout from being attacked was only hitting Lorraine now. Maybe living in a nearly deserted dorm was freaking her out. Maybe her parents were calling to see if she could be moved. Or maybe they were looking to sue the college, and this was an exploratory call to pry incriminating details from Joyce.
    She wondered whether the Plummer family was looking to blame her for things that were clearly, to her mind, her dead predecessor’s fault.
    Only one way to find out.
    Joyce returned the call. Someone picked up on the first ring.
    “Hello?” A woman.
    “It’s Joyce Pilgrim, Thackeray College security. A Lester Plummer left a message last night?”
    “My husband. Lester! It’s the college!” A few seconds later, Joyce could detect an extension being picked up.
    “I’m on,” he said. “Who’m I talking to?”
    Joyce told him. “What can I help you with?”
    “We haven’t heard from Lorraine,” the man said. “She—”
    His wife cut in. “This is Alma. I’m Lorraine’s mother. We usually talk to her once a week or so. We called her Thursday night and didn’t get her, and left a message on her cell, but she didn’t call us back yesterday so—”
    The husband: “It’s not like her not to call. But we thought, maybe she just didn’t get around to it, or maybe—”
    Maybe there was a boyfriend, Joyce thought.
    “But we tried again last night,” Alma said, “and we still couldn’t get her, and there are hardly any of her friends around to get to check in on her and—”
    “Why don’t I pop by and tell her you’re worried about her?” Joyce offered.
    “No!” the mother said. “I mean, yes, check in on her, but don’t tell her we asked you to.”
    “She’d be so embarrassed,” Lester Plummer said.
    “But could you call us back after you see her? Would you be able to do that?”
    “Of course,” Joyce said. “I’ll be in touch.”
    She hung up and decided she might as well stroll over to Albany House now. As she came out of the admin building, she could hear sirens off