"Cadotte," she said. "William Cadotte."
One thing I did not need today was a face-to-face encounter with the man who'd had his tongue in my mouth last night.
"I'll take the domestic," I offered, which only proved how desperate I was.
Domestic disturbances were the most dangerous calls. You never knew what you were going to run into when love turned to hate. Besides, I'd never been very good at dealing with family squabbles, never having had one of my own.
The dispatcher shook her head, destroying my hopes. "One Adam Three is already there. One Adam One and Two are en route to the accident. Which leaves you."
I gave up. Sometimes fate was a malicious bitch.
Surrendering any delusion that I might get to sleep soon, I grabbed coffee at the Gas n' Go, then snagged a doughnut, too.
The route to the university was becoming familiar, as was the route to Cadotte's cubbyhole of an office.
Students, teachers, security milled aimlessly in the hall. There was no sign of the man himself.
The crowd parted for me like the proverbial Red Sea.
However, I wasn't feeling much like Moses. The land of milk and honey was my apartment, and it felt farther away right now than Egypt.
I likened myself to Pharaoh's soldiers. If I went through these people and into the belly of the sea, I was going to drown, but I had to go. Orders were orders and duty just that, as much now as they had been countless centuries before.
I paused on the threshold of the office. Cadotte sat at his desk, his forehead in his hands. Several colleagues hovered around, trying not to disturb the mess.
Cadotte glanced up, almost as if he'd sensed me there. Our gazes met. The air between us sizzled. I was in way over my head with William Cadotte.
"Jessie," he whispered, and stood.
If I hadn't come here before, I might have thought he was just a pig or a spacey egghead who had better things to do than clean. But I had come, and while the place had been full of stuff, the stuff had been in neat piles. Now it was spread to hell and gone in every corner and all across the floor.
"Everyone out," I ordered.
I couldn't stop staring at Cadotte. Though he appeared as exhausted as I was, he was still something to see. His hair stood on end, as if he'd run agitated fingers through the strands over and over again. His glasses were hooked in the pocket of his shirt, so I could see his dark eyes flare hot in an unusually pale face. He was pissed, and I couldn't say that I blamed him.
I'd been burglarized once. I still remembered how it had felt to know some stranger had invaded my place, touched my things, perhaps seen something private. I'd lost money, my CD player, but more important, I'd lost my sense of security for a long, long time.
The door closed and we were alone. "What happened?" 1 asked.
"I already went over this with Security."
"And I'll get that information. I want you to tell me."
He sat on the edge of the desk and I was reminded of how easily he moved - at home in his skin, confident with his body - he'd be attractive for the way he held himself alone. The handsome face, rippling muscles, and great big... brain were all gravy.
"I came in to work early this morning," he began.
I wanted to ask why, but I knew better. When taking a statement it was best to let the person tell you everything without interruptions first. You didn't want them to forget something important because they were distracted. The second time through was the time for questions.
"My door was ajar. I figured the cleaning crew was running late. I walked right in." He gave an annoyed grunt. "Sorry, I touched the doorknob."
I shrugged and made a circular motion with my finger indicating he should keep rolling. People would be amazed to know - despite countless hours of NYPD Blue - how many times evidence was fucked long before we got there.
"The place was like this." He spread his hands to indicate the mess. "I called nine-one-one, then Security.
Someone was searching for something."
Since he appeared to be done with his story, I asked, "What?"
"Do you still have the totem?"
I started, frowned, forced my hand to stay at my side and not creep to my pocket to check. I could feel the talisman there, sharp against my upper thigh. If Cadotte had been looking, he'd have been able to see it, too, although the small piece of stone could easily be mis-taken for a key or any other paraphernalia of the pocket.
"Not on me," I lied. Then, "You think someone was after the totem, so they trashed your office?"
"Nothing was taken. I checked."
"Perhaps you gave a student one too many zeros."
"I don't give zeros."
"Too many Fs then."
"I don't give those, either."
"Well, sign me up, Professor. Sounds like my kind of class."
His lips twitched. I was glad to see him coming out of that frozen, zombielike state. "Who else knows I had the totem?"
Myself. Cadotte. Clyde.
I frowned. The only one of us who didn't know I had the totem now was Clyde. But what possible reason would he have for trashing Cadotte's office? Clyde might not like him but wouldn't risk his job just to be pissy.
Then I remembered the paper Cadotte had signed for the totem and that it was missing. Hell, anyone with access to the evidence room, or the stolen evidence, could have done this. But why?
"Jessie?"
I raised my gaze. "Maybe the person who lost it was searching for it?"
"And they would come to me instead of you, why?"
Hmm, good point.
"Who knows that I had the thing besides you and me?" he repeated.
"Clyde." I shrugged. "And anyone with access to the evidence room."
Quickly I explained about the receipt, the evidence log, and the missing evidence.
Cadotte gave a long, slow blink. "That makes no sense."
I had to agree. "This was probably an unrelated incident."
"Why my office and no one else's? Why take nothing but look at everything?"