discussion I was an instructor for last semester. It was back when the Wingate Clinic had their first ad in the Crimson. One of the freshmen said she'd been interviewed, accepted, and was going to do it."
"What was her name?"
"I can't remember, but I know how to find it. She and her roommate were in the same lab section, and both were terrific students. It would be in my grade book for the course. Let me get it."
While Deborah disappeared into her bedroom, Joanna tried to digest what had transpired in her life in the previous thirty minutes. She felt shell-shocked and a bit giddy. Events seemed to be transpiring at warp speed.
"Voila!" Deborah called out from the bedroom. A second later, she appeared at the door with a soft-cover grade book open in her hand and made a beeline for the desk. "Where's the campus phone directory?"
"Second drawer on the right," Joanna said. "What's the name?"
"Kristin Overmeyer," Deborah said. "And her roommate was Jessica Detrick. They were lab partners, and I gave them the highest grades in the class." She got the phone book out and flipped to the appropriate page. "That's weird! She's not in here. How can that be?"
"Maybe she dropped out of school," Joanna suggested.
"I can't imagine," Deborah said. "Like I said, she was a dynamite student."
"Maybe the egg-donation ordeal was too much."
"You're joking."
"Of course I'm joking," Joanna said. "But it is curious."
"Now I have to get to the bottom of this or you'll use it as an excuse," Deborah said. She rapidly flipped through the phone book, found a number and dialed.
"Who are you calling?"
"Jessica Detrick," Deborah said. "Maybe she can tell us how to get in touch with Kristin, provided the former roommate's in her room studying on a Friday night."
Joanna listened after Deborah gave her the thumbs-up sign indicating that Jessica had answered. Joanna's interest peaked when Deborah's expression clouded over, and she started saying things like: "Oh, that's terrible," and "I'm sorry to hear that," and "What a tragedy1."
After concluding a rather long conversation, Deborah replaced the receiver slowly, then turned to look at Joanna. Deep in thought, she absently chewed the inside of her cheek.
"Well?" Joanna demanded. "Aren't you going to clue me in? What's the tragedy?"
"Kristin Overmeyer disappeared," Deborah said. "She and another freshman by the name of Rebecca Corey were last seen by a Wingate Clinic employee picking up an apparent hitchhiker just after leaving the clinic."
"I heard about two students disappearing last spring," Joanna said. "I never knew the names."
"What in God's name made them pick up a hitchhiker?"
"Maybe they knew him?"
"It's possible," Deborah said. Now it was her turn to shudder. "Stories like that give me the creeps."
"The women were never found? What about their bodies?"
"Just the car, which belonged to Rebecca Corey. It was found at a truck stop along the New Jersey turnpike. The women were never seen again. Nor any of their possessions like purses or clothing."
"Did Kristin donate eggs?"
"A half dozen, which her family sued to get possession of, but which the clinic turned over voluntarily. Apparently the family wanted to have some say in who got them. Such a sad story!"
"So much for having someone to ask about the donation procedure," Joanna said.
"We could always call the clinic and ask for the name of a previous donor," Deborah said.
"If we call the clinic we could ask our questions to them directly," Joanna said. "If that goes well, then maybe we could ask for a referral."
"Then you're willing to give it a try?"
"I suppose there's no harm in getting more information," Joanna said. "But I'm certainly not committing myself, except for possibly a visit to the clinic."
"All right!" Deborah exclaimed. She stepped over to Joanna and high-fived her. "Venice, here we come!"
TWO
OCTOBER 15, 1999 7:O5 A.M.
WAS A BEAUTIFUL FALL DAY with a riot of bright foliage stretching away from both sides
"What was her name?"
"I can't remember, but I know how to find it. She and her roommate were in the same lab section, and both were terrific students. It would be in my grade book for the course. Let me get it."
While Deborah disappeared into her bedroom, Joanna tried to digest what had transpired in her life in the previous thirty minutes. She felt shell-shocked and a bit giddy. Events seemed to be transpiring at warp speed.
"Voila!" Deborah called out from the bedroom. A second later, she appeared at the door with a soft-cover grade book open in her hand and made a beeline for the desk. "Where's the campus phone directory?"
"Second drawer on the right," Joanna said. "What's the name?"
"Kristin Overmeyer," Deborah said. "And her roommate was Jessica Detrick. They were lab partners, and I gave them the highest grades in the class." She got the phone book out and flipped to the appropriate page. "That's weird! She's not in here. How can that be?"
"Maybe she dropped out of school," Joanna suggested.
"I can't imagine," Deborah said. "Like I said, she was a dynamite student."
"Maybe the egg-donation ordeal was too much."
"You're joking."
"Of course I'm joking," Joanna said. "But it is curious."
"Now I have to get to the bottom of this or you'll use it as an excuse," Deborah said. She rapidly flipped through the phone book, found a number and dialed.
"Who are you calling?"
"Jessica Detrick," Deborah said. "Maybe she can tell us how to get in touch with Kristin, provided the former roommate's in her room studying on a Friday night."
Joanna listened after Deborah gave her the thumbs-up sign indicating that Jessica had answered. Joanna's interest peaked when Deborah's expression clouded over, and she started saying things like: "Oh, that's terrible," and "I'm sorry to hear that," and "What a tragedy1."
After concluding a rather long conversation, Deborah replaced the receiver slowly, then turned to look at Joanna. Deep in thought, she absently chewed the inside of her cheek.
"Well?" Joanna demanded. "Aren't you going to clue me in? What's the tragedy?"
"Kristin Overmeyer disappeared," Deborah said. "She and another freshman by the name of Rebecca Corey were last seen by a Wingate Clinic employee picking up an apparent hitchhiker just after leaving the clinic."
"I heard about two students disappearing last spring," Joanna said. "I never knew the names."
"What in God's name made them pick up a hitchhiker?"
"Maybe they knew him?"
"It's possible," Deborah said. Now it was her turn to shudder. "Stories like that give me the creeps."
"The women were never found? What about their bodies?"
"Just the car, which belonged to Rebecca Corey. It was found at a truck stop along the New Jersey turnpike. The women were never seen again. Nor any of their possessions like purses or clothing."
"Did Kristin donate eggs?"
"A half dozen, which her family sued to get possession of, but which the clinic turned over voluntarily. Apparently the family wanted to have some say in who got them. Such a sad story!"
"So much for having someone to ask about the donation procedure," Joanna said.
"We could always call the clinic and ask for the name of a previous donor," Deborah said.
"If we call the clinic we could ask our questions to them directly," Joanna said. "If that goes well, then maybe we could ask for a referral."
"Then you're willing to give it a try?"
"I suppose there's no harm in getting more information," Joanna said. "But I'm certainly not committing myself, except for possibly a visit to the clinic."
"All right!" Deborah exclaimed. She stepped over to Joanna and high-fived her. "Venice, here we come!"
TWO
OCTOBER 15, 1999 7:O5 A.M.
WAS A BEAUTIFUL FALL DAY with a riot of bright foliage stretching away from both sides
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