He went home to shower, shave, and change clothes before returning to the hospital.
The next day, before heading to campus, Marcus returned to Amanda’s house and picked up the student paper. After his early afternoon class was over, he went to Amanda’s department. Her office door was locked.
“Beatrice, could you let me in there? I have to check on something for Amanda. Where’s Carlton? Is he in class?”
She looked at the schedule. “I haven’t seen him today. He doesn’t have classes until late this afternoon. Maybe you could catch him at the library.” She let him into Amanda’s office.
He found the student’s name in the roster Amanda kept there. Beatrice gave him the boy’s phone number. He was living in one of the freshman dorms, but no one answered.
“Let me call the registrar. They’ll know what other classes he has,” the secretary offered.“Greg is covering her class this afternoon. Perhaps you could reach him there.”
He shook his head. “No good. I’ve got one of my own that hour. I’ll write a note and have Greg give it to him.”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine.” She looked at Marcus, concern tugging at her expression. “How is Amanda’s little girl?”
“She’s still unconscious, but Amanda said she squeezed her hand. Wild horses couldn’t get her out of that room.”
“Well, you tell her not to worry about a thing. She needs to stay there. We’ve sent flowers … from the whole department.” Beatrice sniffed and reached for a tissue. “That sweet child. I hope she gets better real fast.”
Marcus sat down. “Beatrice. You said Greg was taking her afternoon class. Isn’t that a freshman section?”
She nodded.
“I thought he would have covered her upper-division seminar.”
“The faculty met early this morning and divided up her classes between them—through the whole week, and longer if she can’t come in ‘til after that. Carlton wasn’t there, or he would have been assigned her afternoon section, which meets right before his own class. But he’s never been good about attending departmental meetings, even after I called to tell him it was important.Greg used to teach 101, so he didn’t mind filling in. During summer session, he often takes a section. He says it keeps him in touch with what the new students are all about.”
“He would think that way,” Marcus mused.“Give me Carl’s number if you have it. I’d like to talk with him.”
“Here it is.” She handed him the number.
He gave her the note he scribbled. “I’ll be in my office this afternoon until five—for office hours, and I really want to talk to this kid.”
“I’ll see to it that Greg speaks to him.”
A gangly freshman in a rumpled sweatshirt and jeans with a rip over one knee knocked on Marcus’ door a few minutes before five p.m.
“You wanted to see me, Professor Dunbar?”
Marcus looked up. “You are?”
“Rob Francis. Professor Hillier gave me a note.”
Marcus motioned to the empty chair. “Thanks for coming in.I found a paper of yours at Professor Gardner’s house. Did you happen to bring it to her?”
The student’s brow wrinkled and his face reddened. “No. I didn’t make it to class that day.I had a chem exam right before that. It took me longer to finish, and the prof gave me extra time. I slid my paper under her door—the day it was due.” He rubbed his stubby beard. “I was hoping she wouldn’t notice it was later than—than when the class meets.”
“I’m sure she won’t dock points. You did get it in that day, right?”
The student nodded. “I heard her little girl was hit by a car. I hope she is better. I really like Professor Gardner. She’s a good teacher.”
“I’ll let her know you said that. What time did you say you slid it under her door?”
“Um—I think it was almost five.”
“And no one was in her office?”
“No. It was locked. That’s why I shoved it under.”
The student left. Marcus called Carlton and heard only a voice message. He gathered the papers he had to review that evening and drove to the man’s apartment. No one was home. When he knocked on a nearby door, the student living there said he hadn’t seen him.
Marcus ordered some sandwiches, two coffees to go, and a large salad at his favorite deli, then headed for the hospital.
He was stopped by one of the nurses when he reached the pediatric floor. “Are you family?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said patiently. “And Cecelia’s mother needs to eat something,” he insisted, pushing past the green-coated nurse who dared to block his path.