Chapter Eight

"Lab B-131," Faith said. "We're here."

The building was industrial in design, a typical concrete tilt-up construction probably built in the very late 1990s or early 2000s. It seemed stark for a university. On the other hand, it seemed appropriate for a research lab.

"Everything is B," Michael said.

"What?"

"All of the doors have B after the number. Where are the A's?"

"Colleges have dumb numbering systems," she replied. "It never makes sense. You mind if we do some work now?"

"Sure," he said. "But it was a legitimate question."

"Okay, fine. It was legitimate."

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She sighed. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

The truth was that Faith felt anxious. She wondered what it was for a moment, but she didn't have to wonder long. The last time she had faced a killer, he had nearly killed her and Turk before allowing the police to arrest him and promising her that he would break her.

She didn't want Michael to know that, though. "Come on," she said, "I can't be worried that everything I say is going to make you ask if I'm okay. I just want to deal with this before the asshole kills someone else, all right?"

"Fair enough," he said. "Let's go, then."

Faith sighed as she stepped in. Michael didn't normally let things go that easily. Maybe he understood that she was on edge after West's attack.

Remember. I will break you. She hated that West came to her mind right now. He was in custody. He was locked up. She was safe.

But she didn't feel safe, and that was what really made her irritable.

"Showtime," Michael said.

Without any other preamble, he pulled open the door and called, "FBI!"As Faith stepped through, she saw two college kids holding their hands against their ears and grimacing in pain. A bearded man rushed to a panel and flipped a switch. "Do you want to blow out someone's eardrums?" he asked angrily. "This room is closed for auditory studies. There's a sign posted on the front of the damned door. I assume you can read, yes?"

He moved to the students, staring at a no longer grimacing and quite pretty blonde who smiled sheepishly at him. "I'm all right, Doctor."

He produced an ear scope. There was an actual name for the tool but she didn't know what it was. "We'll just make sure of that."

Michael stepped toward him, but Faith put her hand on his arm. "Just make your way around to the other side so he's between us," she said softly.

He lifted an eyebrow but didn't question her. Still, the brief look frustrated her, all the more so because the man really didn't look like a flight risk.

"Are you George Tate?" she asked.

"George Tate? I'm Gregory Tate. George Tate is the football coach. Did you really just interrupt my study accidentally?"

"I misspoke," she said. She hated herself for it, too. "Go ahead and finish your examination." If there were any auditory injuries to the students, she wanted to know about them now. Better she tell the Boss what had happened rather than the University.

The man checked the girl's other ear and then checked the other student, a young man who did a passable job of pretending he was unbothered by the assault on his eardrums. When he was satisfied his students weren't harmed, he turned to Michael and said, "All right. I can see that you're FBI now. I'm guessing this isn't a situation where I can tell you to fuck off and make an appointment like a decent human being."

Turk growled low in his throat, and Dr. Tate looked at him. Faith noticed there was no fear in his gaze. "I'll take that as a no. Do my subjects need to stay here, or can I pay them their fee and let them leave?"

"Are they super hearers?" Michael asked.

"Super… super what?"

"Do they have exceptional hearing? Are they part of the research program for students with exceptional hearing?"

"No. This is a study with sound amplifying hearing aids for people with normal hearing."

"What would that be used for?" Faith asked.

"There are a lot of applications," he replied, "from educational public address to security. Is that why you're here? This is far from ready for field studies."

"My partner will get their names and contact information," Faith said, "They can leave. If we have any further questions for them, we'll contact them later."

"About what?"

"At the moment," Faith explained patiently, "that conversation doesn't concern your students. Why don't you settle up with them, and then we'll be happy to explain to you why we're here."

"It better be a damned good reason," he said. "You've just compromised eleven months of research."

"I'm sure you'll see things from our side in a moment," Michael said.

Gregory walked to a locked cabinet, muttering as he retrieved a cash box from the top. The blonde girl looked nervously at Turk, who continued to glare at the researcher. The young man put a protective arm around her, and she stiffened slightly and stepped away. Faith suppressed a smile at the boy's reaction. You'll be okay, kid, she thought. That girl doesn't like you, but you'll find someone who does.

Tate handed the two of them envelopes and said, "Don't cash them until tomorrow." He glared at the agents. "I didn't expect us to be finished so soon."

"That's okay, doctor," the girl said. "Thank you so much."

She smiled at him, and Faith realized why she had no interest in the boy standing glumly next to her. She sighed and resisted the urge to pull the girl aside and explain to her exactly why sleeping with a professor was a bad idea. That was a lesson she'd have to learn on her own.

The two students left, and Gregory turned to the FBI agents and glared. "All right. Now you can tell me why you ruined my study."

"Maria Gonzalez has been murdered," Faith said.

Tate nodded. "That happened some time ago. We were all devastated. She was one of the university's most prestigious students. Why the hell are you here now?"

"Rebecca Wells was also murdered, Mr. Tate," Faith said.

"Who?"

The man's face registered confusion. Faith couldn't dismiss it as anything other than genuine. "She and Miss Gonzalez participated in a research study for people with exceptional hearing ten years ago."

He blinked. Then his eyes widened in shock. "Oh shit. I remember now. She was stabbed to death in her recording studio two nights ago, right?"

"It was very early yesterday morning, if we're being specific," Michael said.

"She was one of my subjects?"

"Yes. Ten years ago, you conducted a study for the University on the physiological differences between people with normal hearing and people with perfect pitch."

He went from shock to understanding instantly. "I remember her now. She was in our music program. Freshman. She did this trick where she asked me to play thirty seconds of a song, then transcribed every note each instrument played. She got it perfect, down to the mistakes the band made."

He sat and released a sigh. "Well, I know why you're here now."

"That's good to hear," Michael said.

With Tate sitting and clearly uninterested in escape, Turk calmed somewhat. He still kept a watchful eye on the researcher, but he didn't growl or glare anymore. Michael walked back in front of him and sat. Faith remained standing. She still felt on edge even though she didn't feel any sort of threat from Tate.

"So what can I do?" Tate asked. "How can I help?"

"Quite a change of heart," Michael said. "What happened to ‘you assholes ruined my study'?"

"Well, you did," Tate replied, "but I guess I understand why you didn't make an appointment."

"It's generally not advised to make appointments to speak with suspects," Faith confirmed.

"Wait, I'm a suspect?"

Michael cast a brief frown at Faith. "Let's start with you telling us exactly what your relationship was with the victims."

Tate paled a little at that, and Faith's interest was piqued again. He was about to lie to them.

"Relationship? I didn't have a relationship with them. They were in my study."

"But you knew immediately who Maria Gonzalez was," Faith pointed out.

"Yeah. She's the darling of our music program. She won the Avery Fisher prize while she was still a student here."

"Are you involved with the music program?" Michael asked.

"No, but I have to see Professor Chung every damned staff meeting. Try attending one where he doesn't mention her."

"You didn't like hearing about her?"

"I don't like hearing Chung. I don't have a problem with Maria. Didn't have a problem with her."

"And Rebecca?"

"I didn't have a problem with her. Hell, I didn't even remember her until you told me she was part of my study."

"You didn't remember her name," Faith said. "I'll bet you remember other parts of her."

He blanched, and Faith knew she was on the right track. Michael picked up on that reaction too and leaned forward. "Ah. So dating students isn't a new thing with you."

Tate swallowed. "I think this conversation is over."

"I don't think so," Faith said, "and if you're going to try to act tough around federal investigators, you might want to try not turning pale as a sheet first. Talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. I don't sleep with my students."

"So the blonde girl who was just mooning over you like you were twenty years younger and sixty pounds lighter is… what?" Michael asked.

A bit of color came back to Tate's cheeks at the insult. "Not my student."

"Okay. So you don't sleep with your students. But your subjects? Fair game, right? Rebecca Wells, one of them?"

Tate looked between the two agents. His left eye twitched. Finally, he slumped. He lifted his hands and let them fall onto his lap. "Yes. Okay? I slept with her. Just a few times. She knew what was up, okay? It's not like I broke her heart. But I didn't remember her name."

"So this is a habit with you," Michael said.

Tate frowned. "Am I under investigation for a brief fling with a consenting adult ten years ago?"

"No, but we do need to know where you were yesterday morning about one a.m.," Faith said.

Tate reddened, and Faith felt a moment of anticipation. Had they caught their killer already.

"I was with Allie," he said reluctantly. "That's the blonde girl who just left."

"Will she confirm that?" Faith asked.

"Yes, but…" he sighed, then said even more reluctantly. "The University has security cameras outside of each dorm. She's in Virginia Woolf Hall. You can check the cameras and see me walking in through the front door just after midnight. I don't leave until three a.m."

"You sleep with them on campus?" Michael asked incredulously.

"It's not against the rules if they're not my students," Tate replied testily, "and I don't choose the study participants, so it's not like I'm paying for favors."

"You mind walking with us to the security office?" Faith asked.

Tate lifted his hands and let them drop again. "Sure. Why not? Might as well get this cleared up."

He stood and headed for the door, the three agents close behind. They opened the door and nearly bowled over Allie, who, apparently, had been listening at the door.

She turned beet red. "Um… You guys don't have to check the security cameras. He was with me."

Tate looked like he'd rather be anywhere but with her right now. "I'm sorry, Allie," he said quietly.

"It's okay," she said, laying a hand on his arm. Damn it, the poor kid actually liked him. She turned to the agents and said again, "If you have to check to prove he's innocent, then do so, but I'll be willing to testify in court that Gregory was with me the night of Rebecca Wells' murder."

"You don't have to do that," Tate said quickly. "They'll just look at the tapes."

"That's fine, Mr. Tate," Faith said, trying to hide her disappointment. "Thank you for the time."

Allie's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you, agents. I really hope you find whoever did this. With all the boldness of youth, she grabbed Tate's face and planted a kiss on his lips that he had no choice but to endure.

"You two have a pleasant evening," Michael said drily.

Both of them were disappointed as they walked to the car. Just once, it would be nice if they could confront the first suspect and instantly close the case.

She reminded herself that the bulk of investigative work was just the process of elimination. Suspects. Weapons. Motives. The point was to eliminate them one by one and bring themselves closer to the killer.

But how many more victims would be eliminated before they landed on the right suspect?