Free Dead Past by Beverly Connor Page B

this would be ripe territory for dealers of speed. Floors and floors of kids who need to make the grade and have to stay awake all night to cram for exams. She wondered if the meth lab had supplied students here. As she looked for Star, she’d keep an eye out for dealers. She would like to take some of these kids who used drugs to the morgue and show them the consequences of the drug business. Explain to them that the reason some of the bodies didn’t have heads was because the heat from the fire caused pressure to build up in the skull until it exploded.
    Let Star be somewhere . . . anywhere other than the morgue tent.
    “Is there an intercom or PA system for the building?” asked Diane.
    “Sure,” answered the calculus kid.
    “Is it open so we can use it?” she asked.
    “You’re asking if they put a PA system where any one of us can use it when we want?” said the other kid. “Yeah, they’d do that.”
    “What was I thinking?” Diane smiled at the two of them. “Thanks for the information.”
    “Sure, thanks for the equation.”
    They started walking down the hall. Frank retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket.
    “I’m going to try Star one more time,” he said.
    “That won’t work in here,” called the calculus kid. “They blocked cell phone signals in this building so they won’t ring in class.”
    “Sure enough, no service.” Frank pocketed his cell.
    “But isn’t that a hopeful sign?” asked Diane. “I mean, surely, that’s why Star’s and Jenny’s cell phones don’t answer. They’re here somewhere.”
    She could see in Frank’s face that, like her, he really wanted that to be the case, but he was afraid to raise his hopes . . . and afraid not to.
    “Yes,” he said. “It’s hopeful. OK, we have to find them if they’re here. I suppose it’s wing by wing and floor by floor again. You’re sure I can’t talk you into going home?” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
    “It’ll take half as long if I help,” she said. “You take the right side of the building and I’ll take the left.” Diane lowered her voice. “Keep a lookout for other things, too.”
    Diane told him her thoughts about this being a good place to sell speed. He nodded.
    Many of the rooms were dark and locked. The ones that were open had students studying at desks, at computers, around tables, on the floor. They studied in groups and alone. Many had brought sleeping bags and were asleep in corners with empty snack wrappers and drink cans littering the area around them like a nest. The Student Learning Center had been turned into a giant campground, and it looked like three-quarters of the campus was holed up here.
    In each room that contained people Diane asked if anyone knew Star Duncan. She found two or three who knew who she was but didn’t know her well and didn’t know where she was. Unlike at the library, Diane didn’t hear as much gossip about the explosion and tragedy. She wondered if they didn’t know. It had happened on Saturday night; if they were here all weekend, they might not have heard.
    Diane was only on the second floor and she was exhausted and depressed. Her back ached. She wanted to sit down and close her eyes, but there were so many rooms to go.
    She pushed on, refusing to allow this search to bring the other search, the one for her daughter, Ariel, to the front of her mind. She couldn’t relive that again. Not now. Not while they couldn’t find Star.
    She walked into a computer lab. Several students were on computers connected to the Internet. One was playing a game. None knew Star. The next room was a lounge with vending machines. There were only two people—young women who were maybe nineteen, surely not older. They could have been from the same family. Both blond, both much too thin, as seemed to be the style these days. Both were well dressed in expensive jeans and sweaters. They were sitting opposite each other at a snack table. One of them looked as if she was slipping