 |
| In Doctorate in Death, anthropologist Dana Winfield embarks on a mystery to find out the whereabouts of Corey Watson, one of her most promising graduate students. After receiving an urgent message from Corey, he goes missing. Dana teams up with colleague and close friend Travis Hitchcock, a handsome archaeologist who becomes embroiled in his own dilemma. Las Cruces, New Mexico and the desert southwest is the setting of this mystery thriller, where Dana and Travis battle their own demons and vicious university politics in their quest to learn of Corey's whereabouts. In this excerpt, Dana drives to Corey's apartment but finds nothing. Driving home, she checks her mail and finds a suspicious letter from Corey. |
| After her meeting with Beeman, Dana drove over to Corey Watson�s apartment. She pulled into the parking lot of Casa del Mesa, a typical student apartment complex. There were rows of two story adobe apartment blocks, separated by sidewalks, trees and shrubs. Stretched across one of the buildings was a banner with large black print that read, �Fall Special: All Utilities Paid.� She parked in front of Corey�s building, number 40. Corey�s apartment number was 403, a downstairs apartment. Looking around, she didn�t see Corey�s truck. She anxiously got out of her car and walked to his apartment. It was only about 200 feet, but she was already sweating. Wiping the perspiration from her brow, she peered through the door window, but couldn�t see much. Everything looked normal, like an apartment whose tenants had gone out. She walked over to a dust-coated window through which she could see into the living room. Still, there was no sign of anything wrong. She was about to turn and walk away when the sound of a meowing cat caught her attention. Looking back through the window, craning her neck, she finally saw Leo, Corey�s cat. He was standing next to his empty food bowl that sat on a small end table next to a bookcase. Every so often he would tippy-toe around in a tight circle and rub against the edge of a small table lamp, his tail flicking into the air. �That cat�s hungry,� Dana said as she rubbed a thin layer of dust from the window to get a better view. She knew Corey doted over that cat. He would never go anywhere without leaving food and water for Leo. Something wasn�t right. Dana moved to the door and turned the door handle. It was locked. Frustrated, she banged on the door and called Corey�s name. The net effect of this was to send Leo scampering. Aggravated, she stomped her foot on the sidewalk, and returned to her car. She got in and just sat there, wondering what to do next as sweat began to drip onto her blouse. He wasn�t here, and his cat had been neglected. As Dana reviewed the facts she became a little nauseous. She hit the steering wheel with her hands. �Dammit!.� She could only conclude that something had happened to him. Finally, she summoned up the energy to start the car and drive home. It only took her about fifteen minutes to drive from Corey�s apartment complex to her house on the north side. She pulled into her driveway about one-thirty, and headed to her mailbox to collect the usual stack of bills. As she pulled several envelopes out, a sheet of yellow paper fell to the ground. She stuffed the mail in her purse, reached down and picked up the yellow paper. It was the same type of paper Corey had left in her office mailbox. The paper was folded in half, and was wet. "That�s funny," she thought. It had stopped raining about seven in the morning, long before the mail came. She carefully separated the soggy over fold. Despite the bleeding of the ink cause by the rain, she could make out Corey�s handwriting. She read the note to herself: Dr. Winfield, Sorry for not coming by last night. But upon reflection I realized that I was acting hastily, out of stress. So, I have decided to take a few days off and clear my head. I came by early in the morning and noticed your lights were out. I ascertained that you were asleep. I was reluctant to awaken you so I left this note in your mailbox. I hope I caused you no undue worry. I�ll call you when I get back into town. Corey �What�s going on here?� she said aloud. The letter didn�t make sense. If he had had second thoughts, why didn�t he simply pick up the phone and call her? Why drive across town in the rain to deliver a message you could comfortably do in a cozy apartment? She read the note again. There was something about it, some of the words, which were just not Corey. Thinking for a moment, she realized what it was. The note was too formal. Corey didn�t express himself that way. Something was terribly wrong. If Corey wrote that note, it meant that somebody else was telling him how to write it. Now more worried than ever, Dana got back into her car and drove to the police station to report Corey as a missing person. The police were sympathetic, but they told her it would be another twenty-four hours before Corey could officially �go missing.� |
| Author's Note: The city of Las Cruces, population about 40,000, lies nestled in the Rio Grande River valley just west of the San Andres Mountains in southern New Mexico. The verdent river valley, with it's lush pecan farms and vast iriigation systems, lies in contrast to the beautiful but stark Chihuahuan Desert with it's mountain ranges, ridges and playas. Once the homeland of the Mescalero Apaches and pueblo peoples of the Jornada Mogollon culture, Las Cruces and nearby Mesilla was settled by the Spanish in the 1700s, and the area still boasts a rich Hispanic culture steeped in heritage and tradition. |