see Kris. Mrs. Kramer had also said that the suitemate had called Kramer's law office when Kris did not answer her cell phone. Don Kramer had believed that Susan Kramer was the last person to see Kris before her disappearance. “Did your people interview anyone here on campus?”
“Sure. Roommate, soccer coach, professors. Not much there. She didn’t show up for any classes and appears not to have spoken with anyone here after she left the campus on Thursday.”
“ Would you mind if I looked through your file?”
“ No, but I can do better than that.”
He turned to a keyboard at his left and typed a few strokes. The office door opened, and Miller’s secretary walked in and took the folder.
“We’re on the same team. Celeste will make a complete copy for you. Anything else you need, let me know.”
“ There is something I need. I need to interview Kris’s roommate.”
Miller gestured toward the monitor. “Transcript of our interview with the roommate is in the file. I probably shouldn’t even be giving you that, but, hey, maybe you see something we didn’t, it helps locate the girl. But as to an interview, I have to say no. No interviews with the roommate. No interviews with any students.”
“Sounds pretty cut and dried, Chief.”
“ It’s the law, Slate. You’re a lawyer. Buckley Amendment. Kid breaks his leg at a frat football game, we need a release to call his mother.”
Miller stood. “The file you’re getting will give you some information that might help you look for Kris Kramer. But you will not find any other student’s name. This school will not get sued on my account.”
I stood and shook Miller’s hand. “Just one thing. Since we’re on the same team, I assume your people won’t mind if I hang around campus and talk to the few people here who aren’t students. Am I right?”
“ You’re welcome here on my – on the campus, but I don’t think you’ll learn much. Kris wasn’t here when she disappeared.”
“ More than I knew yesterday, Chief.”
Celeste had a copy of the material from the department’s file in another ivory folder for me as soon as I stepped outside Miller’s office. Efficient. Or in a hurry to get rid of me. One thing I knew. Miller was damn sure – and damn glad -- the girl hadn’t disappeared from campus.
The athletic complex was on the back side of the campus, down the hill toward the interstate.
A thick copse of woods separated the campus from the highway, and the soccer stadium where both the Alabama Southern men and women played NAIA soccer games was the last clear space before the woods. The Physical Education department and athletic offices occupied a low three-story beige structure that hugged the hill above the stadium.
There was no receptionist or security desk on the ground floor. A black locator board with white letters indicated that the soccer offices were on the second floor. A sweeping cast iron circular stairway in the center of the building led to the second and third floors.
The second floor corridor walls were filled with photos of former soccer players, framed media guide covers, framed photos of teams from each year of the program with won-loss records and statistics.
Kris Kramer was a freshman. No team picture for this year. No team picture might ever include Kris Kramer.
I continued down the hall until I reached the end of the corridor. The men’s soccer head coach’s office was on the left, the women’s on the right. Both had doors of pebbled glass with the coaches’ names etched inside an opaque strip at eye level.
The name of the women’s coach was Sarah Kronenberg.
There were no lights on the men’s side. A narrow band of light striped the carpet at the bottom of the women’s coach’s office, however, and light filtered weakly through the translucent glass into the corridor.
I pushed on the door. It opened onto a small
“Sure. Roommate, soccer coach, professors. Not much there. She didn’t show up for any classes and appears not to have spoken with anyone here after she left the campus on Thursday.”
“ Would you mind if I looked through your file?”
“ No, but I can do better than that.”
He turned to a keyboard at his left and typed a few strokes. The office door opened, and Miller’s secretary walked in and took the folder.
“We’re on the same team. Celeste will make a complete copy for you. Anything else you need, let me know.”
“ There is something I need. I need to interview Kris’s roommate.”
Miller gestured toward the monitor. “Transcript of our interview with the roommate is in the file. I probably shouldn’t even be giving you that, but, hey, maybe you see something we didn’t, it helps locate the girl. But as to an interview, I have to say no. No interviews with the roommate. No interviews with any students.”
“Sounds pretty cut and dried, Chief.”
“ It’s the law, Slate. You’re a lawyer. Buckley Amendment. Kid breaks his leg at a frat football game, we need a release to call his mother.”
Miller stood. “The file you’re getting will give you some information that might help you look for Kris Kramer. But you will not find any other student’s name. This school will not get sued on my account.”
I stood and shook Miller’s hand. “Just one thing. Since we’re on the same team, I assume your people won’t mind if I hang around campus and talk to the few people here who aren’t students. Am I right?”
“ You’re welcome here on my – on the campus, but I don’t think you’ll learn much. Kris wasn’t here when she disappeared.”
“ More than I knew yesterday, Chief.”
Celeste had a copy of the material from the department’s file in another ivory folder for me as soon as I stepped outside Miller’s office. Efficient. Or in a hurry to get rid of me. One thing I knew. Miller was damn sure – and damn glad -- the girl hadn’t disappeared from campus.
The athletic complex was on the back side of the campus, down the hill toward the interstate.
A thick copse of woods separated the campus from the highway, and the soccer stadium where both the Alabama Southern men and women played NAIA soccer games was the last clear space before the woods. The Physical Education department and athletic offices occupied a low three-story beige structure that hugged the hill above the stadium.
There was no receptionist or security desk on the ground floor. A black locator board with white letters indicated that the soccer offices were on the second floor. A sweeping cast iron circular stairway in the center of the building led to the second and third floors.
The second floor corridor walls were filled with photos of former soccer players, framed media guide covers, framed photos of teams from each year of the program with won-loss records and statistics.
Kris Kramer was a freshman. No team picture for this year. No team picture might ever include Kris Kramer.
I continued down the hall until I reached the end of the corridor. The men’s soccer head coach’s office was on the left, the women’s on the right. Both had doors of pebbled glass with the coaches’ names etched inside an opaque strip at eye level.
The name of the women’s coach was Sarah Kronenberg.
There were no lights on the men’s side. A narrow band of light striped the carpet at the bottom of the women’s coach’s office, however, and light filtered weakly through the translucent glass into the corridor.
I pushed on the door. It opened onto a small
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