Read Online Immoral by Brian Freeman - Free Book Online

some deep dark secret to you.”
    “That’s amazing,” Stride said. “Now tell me who’s going to win the World Series.”
    Carver allowed herself another tight smile. “I’m right, am I not?”
    “Well, since you brought it up, are you having sex with any of the teenagers here?”
    “I do not have sex with underage persons, Detective,” Carver said slowly, emphasizing each word.
    “That’s a good answer. It’s not what I asked, but a good answer. I like the photographs on your door. You seem to take students on a lot of field trips.”
    “I call them feminist learning retreats.”
    “Do underage persons attend any of these retreats?”
    “Of course. With parental permission.”
    “I was wondering whether Rachel ever accompanied you on one of these retreats.”
    “No, she didn’t,” Carver said.
    “How about Kerry McGrath?”
    “No, I never met Kerry. Are you suggesting I am in some way involved in their disappearances?”
    Stride shook his head. “Not at all. I’m just looking for connections.”
    “And why not start with a lesbian activist, right?”
    “It’s amazing how you can read my mind. Did you ever counsel either of these girls?”
    “I don’t counsel people here, Detective.”
    “Well, since you’ve made it clear that you’re not the school’s massage therapist, what exactly is it you do if you’re not a counselor?”
    “I’m a mentor. Or simply a friend. There’s no formal professional relationship involved.”
    “That’s strange, isn’t it?” Stride asked. “I mean, you have both a master’s and a Ph.D. in psychology, and you’re a tenured professor at the University of Minnesota, and I see a lot of books with ‘ology’ in the title on your desk.”
    “It’s not strange at all, Detective. In fact, I could say that you’re responsible for my being here.”
    “Me? How’s that?”
    Carver leaned forward on her desk, her hands neatly folded together, her huge brown eyes boring into him again. “Well, since you never did find Kerry McGrath, you left a lot of female students traumatized around this school.”
    Stride winced. “I’m not following you.”
    “Let me spell it out. After that girl disappeared last August, the school began to have a lot of trouble with the women here. Several of them were skipping classes, bursting into tears, engaging in self-destructive behavior. I offered my services as a volunteer counselor—not in a professional sense but as someone who could relate to them and talk to them about their fears. It’s a measure of how worried the administration was that they didn’t quibble about my politics or sexual preference but welcomed me with open arms. And I found I enjoyed working with the girls. So I made it into a permanent stint, two afternoons a week, and I’ve taken small groups on several retreats, too. I’m not their therapist, although my professional experience is certainly helpful. Mostly, I’m someone these women can talk to.”
    “Did you have a chance to become friends with Rachel?”
    He watched her face, expecting a reaction. There was nothing, not a flinch, no attempt to hide anything, only the same level stare.
    “I knew her,” she said, still betraying nothing.
    “How well?”
    “We met occasionally. She was not one of my regular visitors. And as I mentioned, she never joined us on any of the retreats.”
    “Why did she come to see you?”
    Carver paused. She stared calmly at Stride. “I’m not at liberty to say,” she said finally.
    “Why not?” Stride asked, annoyed. “You were quite adamant that these were not professional relationships, so privilege doesn’t apply, does it?”
    “Privilege would depend on how Rachel perceived the relationship and whether she considered me a therapist. But regardless, she told me certain things only with the condition that they remain strictly confidential between the two of us. I was to tell no one at all. And if I get a reputation as someone who betrays confidences,