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The dean's office looked like it belonged in an Ivy League Hogwarts. Oak paneling, leather chairs, and enough books to keep a fire burning for a year. Ella perched on the edge of her seat, shaking off the frustration of two hours of interviews, each one a rerun of the last. The same script with different faces.

They'd started with Olivia Westbrook, who'd greeted them with red eyes and a trembling chin. She'd talked about Marcus like he was a saint, but couldn't – or wouldn't – say anything that pointed to why he'd ended up sixty feet under. Then came a parade of TAs, janitors, and cafeteria workers, all singing the same tune. Yes, he was brilliant. Yes, he was reliable. No, they couldn't imagine who'd want to harm him.

Across the desk, Dean Katherine Harper folded her hands like she was about to give a lecture. Mid-fifties, designer suit, hair coiffed within an inch of its life. The kind of woman who'd climbed the ivory tower with manicured nails and had a stern expression that had probably made a thousand students confess to plagiarism. Ella recognized her as the woman who’d hauled her offstage after her lecture yesterday. She’d already given them the same spiel they'd heard all day. Marcus the meticulous. Marcus the workhorse. Marcus the patron saint of rocks.

Luca took notes, but Ella could tell he was running on fumes. They'd skipped lunch to power through the interviews, and his stomach had been growling like a caged animal for the last hour.

‘Did he have any enemies?’ Ella asked, more out of habit than hope. ‘Anyone who might have wanted to hurt him? Maybe disagreements with any other staff?’

'Never. He was almost pathologically non-confrontational.' Harper straightened a stack of papers that didn't need straightening. 'His students adored him. His research was impeccable. I know it sounds like a cliché, but Marcus truly was-'

‘The perfect professor.’ Ella kept her tone neutral but something must have leaked through because Harper’s eyes narrowed. ‘Sorry. It's just that we've heard similar things all morning.’

‘Because they're true. Marcus Thornton was a credit to this institution. This whole place is in shock. ’

‘What about personal issues?’ Luca asked. ‘Any changes in behavior recently?’

‘Nothing obvious. Though...’ The dean hesitated. ‘He did seem preoccupied the last few weeks. Less focused in meetings. But we all have our off days.’

Ella had heard enough generic praise. Time to change tactics. She pulled out her phone and brought up the photo she'd taken of Marcus's notebook entry. ‘Felix Blackwood. Does that name ring a bell?’

Harper’s hand twitched, disturbing the perfect alignment of her pen. ‘I'm sorry?’

‘Felix Blackwood.’ Ella turned the phone so Harper could see. ‘Marcus made a note about him requesting access to restricted texts. Said he needed to see you about it.’

The dean's face did something interesting - like she was trying to swallow something unpleasant without showing it.

‘Mr. Blackwood was... a student here. Geology and geophysics.’

‘Was?’ Ella's instincts perked up. Past tense was a red flag in their line of work.

‘He's no longer enrolled.’

Luca looked up from his notes. ‘Geology and geophysics? So, Marcus taught him?’

The dean laced her fingers together, a nervous tells as obvious as a lit cigarette in church. 'Yes, he did.'

‘What happened to Felix? Why’s he no longer enrolled?’

Harper’s perfectly manicured fingers drummed once on her desk, then stopped. ‘We pride ourselves on accepting students from all backgrounds, all belief systems. But Mr. Blackwood wasn't a good fit for NYU.’

Ella leaned forward and began channeling her inner shark. She could smell blood in the water. How so?’

‘He was... difficult. Confrontational. Had issues with authority. Questioned everything. Argued with professors about their own subjects. We encourage independent thinking, but there are limits.’

Ella read between the lines. ‘Him and Marcus didn’t see eye to eye?’

The dean hesitated. Something passed behind her eyes - calculation, maybe, or concern. ‘Only one time. It concerned the restricted texts Marcus is talking about. You see, we have a collection of materials in our archive, down in our basement. Old books. Mostly the English translations. Rare texts on fringe topics. Mysticism, demonology, that kind of outdated nonsense. We keep them under lock and key for historical value, nothing more.’

Now, it made sense. Restricted texts as in textbooks. Ella and Luca exchanged a look. This was the first lead that felt solid.

‘Felix wanted access to these restricted texts?’ she asked.

‘Demanded, more like. He became quite aggressive about it. Marcus was also the archivist here, so any requests for materials had to go through him.’

‘How did that go?’

‘Not well. Marcus and myself both declined Felix’s request.’

Why?’

Harper adjusted her sleeves. ‘Because those materials are for historians and researchers. Not impressionable kids who watched too many videos on conspiracy theories.’

Ella saw Harper’s point, although she couldn’t help but wonder why the university even bothered to hold such materials if they refused access to the few people who might actually want to see them. It reminded Ella of how museums kept 99% of their collections in their vaults.

‘How’d Felix take the news?’

‘Oh, not well. Marcus caught him trying to break into the basement. He was trying to pick the lock. Marcus called security and, well… you can guess what happened.’

Ella's heart rate kicked up a notch. Now, the past tense made sense. 'So, you kicked him out of the university.'

Harper laced her hands together again. 'Yes, we did. We don't like expulsion, but we had no choice.'

Ella cast a glance at her partner. He must have been thinking along the same lines as her because his jaw had dropped an inch. This Felix Blackwood kid, whoever he was, had a thing for the occult and a vendetta against a man who showed up dead last night. If he wasn't involved in this, it was a hell of a coincidence, and cops weren't allowed to believe in coincidences.

‘How did Felix take the news of his expulsion?’ she asked.

‘As well as you’d expect. Voices were raised, security were called, threats were made.’

‘Against Marcus?’

‘No,’ Harper said, ‘against me. Marcus wasn’t there at the time.’

Ella latched onto that detail. She leaned forward and said, ‘These books Felix wanted. Did he ever specify which ones? ’

‘That's just it – he didn't. Said he needed to 'browse the collection.' When we insisted on specifics, he became evasive. Just kept insisting there were 'hidden truths' in our collection that we were suppressing.’

‘And Marcus never mentioned anything else about him?’ Luca asked.

‘Not to me. Though after the break-in attempt, Marcus did request extra security measures for the archive.’ Harper straightened her blazer. ‘I thought he was being paranoid at the time.’

This was it. Ella needed to know everything about Felix Blackwood, stat. She was about to press further when her phone buzzed. Detective Ross' number lit up the screen.

‘Excuse me.’ She stood up. ‘I need to take this. Hawkins, you know what to do.’

Luca gave her a nod as she strafed out into the hallway. She could hear the distant murmurs of lectures in progress.

‘Ross,’ she answered. ‘Just with the dean of NYU.’

‘Well, drop whatever you’re doing.’

Ella froze in place. She might have only met Ross this morning, but she recognized that tone a mile off. It was the same tone used by cops and sheriffs the country over. The kind that meant he'd seen something today that would haunt him tonight.

‘Please don’t say…’

‘Yup. We’ve got another body. And this one is… different.’