Read Separate from the World for Free Online Page A

Sheriff?”
    “Like anyone else, Professor,” Robertson said. He glanced down the hall. “Your rich boy, there, looks like a playboy to me, all tanned to bronze like that.”
    At the end of the hall, Eddie sat down on the bench again, cradling his head in his hands. Ricky Niell started forward with his spiral notepad.
    Branden said, “He’s not my boy, Bruce. He’s my student. And it doesn’t matter that his parents are wealthy.”
    Niell advanced with his eyes focused on a page, and said, “He says that he killed her. Not that he did it, but that he’s to blame, because he broke up with her.”
    “He told me the same thing,” said Branden. “He feels responsible for her death. He’s not only grieving, he’s in shock.”
    Robertson turned to Branden and said, “He’s a playboy, Mike.”
    “He’s just a college kid, Bruce,” Branden argued. “He’s supposed to march in commencement Monday morning and take his diploma home to Florida. He’ll work in his family’s boatyard. Cathy Billett was from a cattle ranch in Montana. She was going home to her family. Couples like that break up a lot this time of year. They think they’ll never be able to make it in a long-distance relationship, and they just give up.”
    The sheriff’s cell phone chirped. He checked his display, took the call, and said, “Yeah, Dan. What have you got? I’m putting you on speaker phone.”
    Robertson held the phone out, and the three men heard Chief Deputy Wilsher say, “The roof of this bell tower looks like an all-night frat-house party, Sheriff. It’s pretty much a mess, but there are girl’s shoes and a large man’s button-down shirt. A wine bottle, beer cans, and some snacks.”
    Branden said, “The tower’s supposed to be locked, Dan.”
    “Well, it’s not,” Wilsher said. “There’s an old sleeping bag laid out here, and a shredded wine cork that looks like it was carved out with a knife. There’s a little penknife lying here, too.”
    Ricky said, “That’s all consistent with what Hunt-Myers has told me.”
    “You going to arrest him?” Dan asked over the phone.
    Branden groaned and said, “No, Bruce. That’d be wrong.”
    Robertson thought, shook his head, and said, “Naw. No arrest, Dan. Not for now.”
    Over the phone, Wilsher said, “Wait,” and a moment later, “Maybe you’d better get back up on campus, Bruce. Ben Capper has some hippie professor locked in handcuffs. I’m looking down at them now.”
    Ricky spoke toward the phone, “College security guards aren’t supposed to carry handcuffs.”
    Wilsher came back, “Well, yeah. But neither is the chief of college security supposed to be holding an ice pack to his eye.”
    Branden said, “Bruce, if you go back up there, you’ll be poking a stick into a hornet’s nest.”
    Robertson said, “Hang on, Dan,” and muted his phone. Growling, he said, “Mike, I don’t have any choice here.”
    “You do, Bruce,” Branden said. “Just tell Dan and Pat Lance to pack Newhouse and Capper up and bring them both down here.”
    Robertson unmuted his phone and asked, “Dan, can you just put Ben Capper and that professor in your car and bring them both down to the jail?”
    Wilsher said, “Lance already has Capper in the backseat.”
    Urgently, Branden said, “Dan, listen. Get Newhouse out of those cuffs.”
    “I’ll talk to him,” Wilsher said.
    “No, Dan, listen,” Branden said. “He wants to be in those cuffs. You’re gonna make a martyr out of a mouse.”
    There was a pause, and next Deputy Lance came on the phone. “Sheriff, Pat Lance here. Chief Wilsher is taking the cuffs off, now.”
    Robertson bit down on his more assertive instincts, and said, “You and Dan bring Capper in alone, Lance.”
    Then Lance said, “This professor is nuts, Sheriff. Won’t let us take the cuff off his other wrist.”
    Branden muttered, “I’ve been doing this too long.” He flashed the mental image of a dwarf Amish man balanced on the flat seat