Chapter 4

"Just a bunch of math stuff," Colby said, peering into Charlie's backpack.

"It's not going to hurt you, Granger. Just dump the thing out on the desk."

Colby slung the backpack over his shoulder, looked back to David. "It's pretty full. I'm going to the conference room, use a bigger table."

David trailed after him, and watched Colby turn the backpack upside down. Several books, a bottle of water, Charlie's cell phone. Colby tossed that to David. "Check the voice mail, calls received," he suggested. As David left the room with the cell, Colby counted at least seven pencils and four Dry Erase markers. The paper was astronomical. Sticking out of the books, whole sheets, tiny scraps…from what he could see, it was all covered with numbers, save one half sheet. "Tuna fish, Water, Romaine, Bread. Relish? Call R." Okay, that had to be a grocery list, mostly. But who was "R", and did it even matter? There was no date on the paper. Colby put it aside to show Alan. He unzipped all the pockets then, found several more pencils, one pen, two more Dry Erase markers and at least another pound of paper scraps, covered with numbers. He was going to have to get Charlie's friend, Dr. Fleinhardt, to look at all these, and make sure they were just numbers.

Megan appeared at the doorway to the conference room, raised her eyebrows, came to the same conclusion. "I'll call Larry," she said, and turned to leave.

"Mr. Eppes, too," called Colby after her. "Ask him if Charlie has a little black book."

Megan froze momentarily, backed up to the conference room door again. "Charlie?"

Colby met her gaze. "Are you saying that he won't?"

"Well, no, of course not. I'm just surprised you give him enough credit."

"Very funny. Look, even if he doesn't have one, that's not unusual anymore. Most people just keep their contacts on their cells now, and David's looking at that."

Megan snapped her fingers. "And their PCs," she grinned at Colby. "Ever meet a guy more likely to keep a little black PC?"

"Good, that's good. See if we can get that from Mr. Eppes, too."

David was back, peering over Megan's shoulder. "Why are we concentrating on Charlie?" he asked. "Just because we have his backpack? We've got Don's whole desk."

Megan's eyes widened, and she glanced over her shoulder at David. "You think we should go through Don's desk?"

Colby answered first. "Tell you what," he said, "when we find him…I'll tell him it was my idea."

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Alan Eppes looked at his son's scribbled grocery list. "I don't remember the last time either of us had tuna," he said. "As for 'R'…well, you've got his contact list on the PC, but I know there's a Dr. Renton at Cal Sci…"

"Yes," interrupted Larry, "Dr. Renton. He's with administration. We have to submit our course evaluations to him at the end of each semester, and Charles is always late. He usually has to call to arrange an extension."

"It's finals week next week?"

"Yes, Megan…not time for Charles to require an extension yet. This is probably a note from the end of last semester; over three months ago."

Alan shuffled through several scraps of paper. "What about all these numbers?"

"Well, some of the longer sequences are quite fascinating, really," began Larry, and everyone crowded in. He raised one hand to his head, bit the fingernails of his other. "As thoeroms, I mean. Complicated thought patterns, very unique approaches…but I don't see anything here that could be some sort of message, or clue."

Megan glanced at David. "Did you get anything off the cell?"

"Nothing unusual. Charlie called the electric company, received a call from Don, when he asked him to come here, a couple of students…"

Colby raised his hand. "Wait." He looked at Larry. "You give students your personal numbers?"

"Of course," answered Larry. "It's not published information, of course, but we often extend our contact numbers to students. Those who present themselves as serious students. Those for which we act as advisors. It's completely up to the professor."

David continued. "One call from Amita, one from you, Larry."

"I remember both of those calls. Amita and I both tried to persuade Charles to join us for lunch, but he claimed he was just having tea in his office." He tapped his chin with the fingers of one hand. "I believe Amita bought him something at the deli anyway. She was going to take it by his office." He snapped his fingers. "Yes, I'm sure of it now. When I stopped by there this morning to retrieve his laptop for you, there was still a wrapped sandwich from the deli on his desk."

"Doesn't look like there's much to go on here, then," stated Alan wearily. "Have you found anything in Donnie's desk?"

"We're looking at the files he had in there," Megan said, "but mostly it's just reports one of us wrote," she indicated herself, Colby and David, "that Don has to sign off on as team leader. Nothing is setting off any warning bells."

"And he must have had his cell with him," Colby added. "We're running down the messages he received through the switchboard yesterday, but so far, nothing there, either."

David cleared his throat, glanced at Megan and Colby. "We have processed the SUV," he started, looking directly at Alan. "The airbags were both deployed, and the passenger window is shattered. Some blood on the window casing matches the sample we have on file for Charlie."

Alan and Larry both paled. "But if Charles were hurt in the accident, wouldn't Don have sought help for him, rather than move him?"

Megan nodded grimly. "You're right, Larry. Don would never have moved an injured Charlie away from that SUV willingly. Somebody must have taken them both out, and quickly, before the wreckage was spotted."

"So this person was probably there when the MVA occurred," Colby continued. "Maybe even caused it. The question is, was it intentional? Or an accident?"

David stood, walked toward the white board still covered with numbers Charlie had left there. "If it was an accident, why not call help for Don and Charlie, or even take them to a hospital?" He turned around to face the four people at the table. "This doesn't smell like an accident," he said. "Somebody caused them to leave the road, pulled them out of that SUV, has them now. This was intentional."