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student.”
    “No.”
    “You’ll have to speak to the public affairs director. I can’t help you.”
    Max wanted to push, but she assessed the receptionist as well as the security officers who were giving her the eye. The eye that told her they were suspicious of outsiders.
    “What is the public affairs director’s name?” Max asked. She had the information in her notes, but she hadn’t planned on speaking to public affairs unless as a last resort.
    This was a last resort.
    The receptionist typed rapidly. “Stephanie Adair,” she said. She wrote the name and phone number on a notepad. “If you go to the administration building, the front desk will be able to help you.”
    All polite, now that she knew Max was leaving.
    Max would return. She had questions, and if they didn’t answer them, the no comment she recorded would speak volumes.
    Max left for the administration building next door, wondering if they were that rigid with all reporters, or just the reporter who said she was looking into Scott Sheldon’s disappearance. Was the receptionist the person she’d first spoken with? Why hadn’t she given her Adair’s name on the phone? Had she been briefed on the case and told to divert any future calls—or visits—to the media rep?
    She went inside and asked for Stephanie Adair. She was directed to an office on the second floor. The girl at the desk was young, likely a college student, and immediately called Ms. Adair when Max asked for her.
    “Ms. Adair said she’ll be a couple minutes, if you’d like to wait.”
    Like most everything at Cheyenne College, the administration building was modern, more like an office building than like a college. Two empty cubicles filled the room behind the student receptionist, stacks of paper and a computer on each. Lots of plants and a picture window looking out onto the quad made the office appear bigger and brighter.
    A couple minutes turned into ten before Ms. Adair stepped out of the door behind the receptionist. She, too, looked young enough to be a college student, but she was dressed better and wore quite a bit of makeup.
    She smiled and extended her hand. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Revere. You caught me on a phone call, and I have a lunch meeting. But if you’d like to walk with me, I’ll see what I can help with.”
    “Thank you,” Max said automatically, though she had the feeling Adair was trying to get rid of her.
    Adair walked briskly down the hall toward the main staircase. “What can I help you with?” she asked.
    “I’m investigating the Scott Sheldon disappearance.”
    Adair sounded perplexed. “Scott Sheldon? I don’t know who that is. Should I?”
    “He was a student who disappeared last October while camping with three other students.”
    “Oh, yes, I heard about that. I only started in this position in January.”
    Great. She was new. But that might actually help Max. “I’d like to speak to the security chief about the matter. According to the police files, that would be Frank Hansen, and he’s still on staff.”
    “Yes, Chief Hansen is still here. Policy is that any press inquiries about the college, faculty or students go through my office.”
    “I have questions, you shouldn’t have to play the delivery girl. If you could simply grant permission—”
    Adair stopped at the bottom of the staircase which opened into the wide lobby. “If you e-mail me your questions, I’ll talk to Chief Hansen and get them answered.”
    “It would be better if we talked face-to-face. You’re welcome to be there.”
    Adair smiled. She looked pleasant, but she was being hard-nosed. “No, that’s not possible. But I promise, I’ll get your questions answered quickly.” She handed Max her business card. “My email and phone number are on the card.”
    Max didn’t like the answer, but she wasn’t going to get a concession out of Adair. Max slipped the card into her purse and forced out, “Thank you.”
    “I’ll walk you to the