At Risk (25 page)

Liz ran inside to answer the telephone. To her surprise, the voice on the other end of the line was that of Dean Pollett. She glanced at the kitchen clock, wondering why he would be calling this early on a weekend.

“Is there some problem?” Liz asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid there is. Could you come in to my office? There’s a serious matter we need to discuss.”

“If this is about my days off this past week—”

“No. I’d rather speak to you in person. As I said, this is serious.”

Liz leaned against the wall and exhaled softly. What now? What else could go wrong? “Has anyone been hurt?” she asked.

“No, not exactly, but—”

“I’ll be glad to take this up with you on Monday morning, but to tell the truth, I’m having a hell of a day so far. If you can’t give me some idea of what the problem is, it will have to wait.”

Dean Pollett cleared his throat. “Very well, if you insist. I’m attempting to save you further embarrassment, but since your weekend plans are obviously—”

“Dean, someone just poisoned my best friend’s dog while it was in my care. Michael Hubbard’s German shepherd. I have to take the animal to a vet for an autopsy, and I have to tell Michael. You’d be doing me a big favor if you’d just get to the point. What have I done wrong?”

“A graduate student has come to me about your behavior, Dr. Clarke.”

“A grad student? Not Cameron Whitaker?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is Mr. Whitaker. He claims that you have been calling his home, following him in your car, and making inappropriate suggestions to him. In short, Cameron Whitaker is threatening to charge you with sexual harassment and to name Somerville College a party to the harassment.”

“Concentrate, Elizabeth,” Michael chided as they examined the target. Of her dozen shots, not one had come near the bull’s-eye. Instead, they were all over the perimeter of the cardboard cutout of a guntoting, masked intruder. “You have the basics, but your aim is erratic. You’re all over the target. You’ll never put an assailant down with shooting like this.”

She sighed and glanced away, unable to meet Michael’s accusing gaze. “Maybe I don’t want to,” she said quietly. “I don’t like guns. I find the idea of taking a human life repugnant.”

“You’re an intelligent woman with good reflexes and excellent vision. I can’t understand why you aren’t getting any better.”

It was nearly five o’clock, and acute grief at the loss of his canine companion still etched lines into Michael’s handsome face. When she’d told him about Heidi’s death, he’d turned away from her, barely able to contain his emotion. And when he looked back, she could see tears in his eyes.

White-hot anger had quickly replaced sorrow. Michael had taken the Smith & Wesson from the drawer and insisted that she practice her shooting. “I want you to take the gun home with you,” he’d said. “And I want you to keep it with you. Do you understand? Take it to bed with you. Take it in the shower. Don’t be without it for a minute.”

“I don’t have a license to carry a concealed weapon,” she’d protested.

“Who gives a damn? We’re talking about your life, Elizabeth. This isn’t a game. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“I can’t take it to school. Weapons are forbidden on school property.”

“Right,” he’d flung back. “That stupid bastard Ernie Baker carries a revolver. I do. So does Barry.”

She’d stood firm. “I won’t carry a firearm at Somerville.”

“All right, but if I pull some favors and get you a license, will you promise me to keep it with you and lock it in the car when you get to school?”

She’d nodded. “I suppose I can do that.”

Earlier, before Michael arrived home from the hospital, Liz had taken Heidi to the vet’s office. Dr. Miller had said that she wanted to get an okay from Michael as he was the dog’s legal owner. So long as Michael agreed to the autopsy, Dr. Miller could have a definite cause of death by Wednesday at the latest, perhaps as early as Monday afternoon.

“I should have kept her inside,” Liz said for the third time as she and Michael returned to the firing position on the range. “If I’d let Heidi sleep in the house with me, she’d be alive.”

“It’s not your fault,” Michael had said. “I told you to leave her outdoors to patrol the house. Whoever killed her did it to frighten you. He wanted you to know that you aren’t safe, that he can do what he pleases.”

“There’s more,” she said as she reloaded six bullets into the revolver. “Dean Pollett called this morning.” She told him then about Cameron’s threat to bring charges against her for sexual harassment. “The dean doesn’t want to take sides. He just wants the problem to go away. If I can’t prove that Cameron’s lying, I could lose my job.”

“Whitaker’s bluffing, covering his a—” Michael caught himself and substituted, “his
butt
by threatening to sue you. You should have let me deal with him when he first started making a nuisance of himself.”

That’s what Jack said,
Liz thought as she raised the handgun, steadied her arm with her left hand, and sighted down the barrel. “But what if it isn’t Cameron? I just can’t believe he could be vicious enough to poison Heidi. What if it’s Russell or someone else who’s doing this to me?”
What if it’s Jack?

“They’d have to have a motive. Squeeze the trigger gently. All in one motion. Raise, aim, fire.”

The recoil from the revolver was minimal. A hole appeared in the right of the target, a good three inches away from the bad guy’s left elbow.

Michael swore under his breath.

Liz lowered the weapon, keeping the barrel pointed at the concrete pad. The Smith & Wesson had no safety, so she removed her finger from the trigger.

“Why do I think your heart isn’t in this?” Michael asked.

“It isn’t.”

“What can I say to make you understand?” He took the gun from her hand, raised it, and fired off five shots in succession. When he lowered the gun, a dark hole showed in the target’s forehead. Every bullet had struck within a two-inch circle.

“You’re a master marksman,” she said.

Michael shook his head. “It isn’t just marksmanship. Self-defense eludes most civilians because they hesitate when they should shoot. They don’t have survival instincts. While the average Joe is deciding whether or not to pull the trigger, the assailant takes them out.”

“What if they shoot some innocent—”

“An innocent bystander isn’t charging into your bedroom with a weapon in his hand. Anyone who crosses your threshold is looking to hurt you, Elizabeth. And all this that’s happened, it isn’t going to stop. It escalates.”

“Stop,” she said. “You’re frightening me.”

“Good. You should be scared. Whoever is after you won’t be satisfied with your job or your money. This has gone too far. He wants your life. He won’t stop until you’re dead.”

Michael had wanted her to spend the night at his house, but Liz knew she couldn’t. If she was too afraid to go home now, she’d never be able to. She’d run, just as she had at seventeen. And she’d spend the rest of her life jumping at shadows.

After leaving his house she drove to her favorite bookstore in Dover. Al, dark-haired, slim, and smiling, was at the front register. She’d known him since they were in elementary school, although she was several years older. He was smart, an avid reader, and she always enjoyed chatting with him.

“What did you think of Marshall’s first one?” he asked as he retrieved her book from a shelf along the wall and rang it up.

“Excellent. I hope this is as good. I don’t know when I’ll get to it, though. Things have been . . .”

He nodded sympathetically. “I read about it in the paper. Terrible.”

She handed him her credit card.

“For what it’s worth, I thought
No Remorse
was great, maybe better than the first,” Al said. “You know, there are rumors the author lives in the area, that John Marshall’s just a pseudonym.”

“Is that right? I suppose anything’s possible.” She accepted the bag, thanked him, and returned to her car.

After a quick stop at Radio Shack for a new phone, Liz drove back to the farm. She took the revolver from under the seat, gathered up the books and the bag containing the telephone with Caller ID, and hurried inside. Once safely in the kitchen, she locked the door behind her.

Removing the older model phone and installing the new one took ten minutes, some cursing, and a broken fingernail. But once she heard the comforting dial tone, the first thing Liz did was call Russell’s home.

Danielle answered on the second ring. “Russell?”

“No, it’s Liz.” She heard a small sound of disappointment. “He’s not there, is he?” Liz said.

“No. I don’t know where he is. He said he was going to Atlanta on business, but he didn’t take any extra suits. I called the Doubletree on Peach Street where he was supposed to have a reservation, and they said he wasn’t a guest. The clerk couldn’t find any record of a reservation either.” Danielle sounded as though she’d been crying. Liz could hear one of the twins shrieking in the background.

“Do you know if he went to the airport?”

“I dropped him off there at seven-thirty this morning. Russell had been out all night, and he came home in a cab. I don’t know what happened to his car, and he wouldn’t answer any of my questions. I suspected that he might have been with that secretary of his, Lorraine.”

“Yes, I’ve met Lorraine.”

“She’s a piece of work.”

“I agree with you,” Liz said.

“Russell’s Mercedes is leased, but I don’t think he’s been making the payments.” Her voice broke and she began to weep. “The bastard,” she said. “It’s all coming apart, Liz. My father had to lend me the money for our mortgage payments twice since Christmas.”

“Russell’s gambling again.” Liz knew he was, but she wanted to hear Danielle confirm it.

“There’s more. I told you I suspected that he and Lorraine were having an office romance, but now I’m not sure. Lorraine came to the house just before lunch. She was raving. She took her paycheck to the bank, and the teller refused to honor it. They said the business account had been closed.”

“Did you check your personal accounts?”

“Empty as the twins’ college fund. I think he’s run out on us, Liz. I wouldn’t count on any back child support if I were you.”

“Russell tried to get me to co-sign a loan for him.” Liz slid down the wall and sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor. “When I wouldn’t, he admitted that he was in debt big time. He was afraid for his life.”

“He’d better be. If I find him, there won’t be enough left—”

“Russell tried to take out a policy on my life, Danielle. A big one, but the insurance office notified me. Maybe you’d better check around to see if . . .”

Danielle swore. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“Will you be all right?”

“No. Yes. Probably better than I’ve been for the past year. I’ll have to sell the house, of course. Move home until I can find a job.” She began to cry again, and Liz couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. “I feel like . . . like such a fool,” Danielle said. “You tried to warn me, but I thought you . . .”

“Why should you believe me? Do whatever you have to do, but if you do hear from him, will you let me know?”

“Yes, of course, if you want.”

“I’m so sorry, Danielle. I really am.”

“Is this what he did to Laura?”

“Pretty much. Only the second Mrs. Montgomery only lasted two years. Two little girls, but Russell claimed that one wasn’t really his.” Liz cut the conversation short and hung up the phone.

“The bastard,” she said. If he hadn’t caught a plane until this morning, he could have been at her house last night. But why would he? What would he gain by poisoning Heidi, or hurting her when she’d already canceled the insurance policy?

She went through the house, checking all the window and door locks, and found nothing out of place. Had it been Russell all along? And if it had, did that mean it was over? She decided to call Michael and tell him what she’d learned from Danielle.

“So you think he’s in Atlanta?” Michael said. “I could find out if he took a flight out today.”

“You could do that?”

He chuckled. “Give me a few hours. I’ll reach out.”

“You’ve got a lot of friends in high places.”

“A cop who doesn’t won’t solve many cases. Let me see what I can find out for you, Elizabeth.”

A few minutes later, Jack called to see if she’d decided to have dinner with him. She begged off, claiming cramps and a headache. She didn’t tell him about Heidi, and once he’d hung up, she wondered why. Was she beginning to suspect Jack? Or was she so crazy she’d begin to think Amelia was stalking her next?

At eight-twenty, Michael called back. “Bull’s-eye,” he said. “Your Mr. Russell Montgomery arrived in Atlanta at two o’clock and took a flight on to Miami ninety minutes later.”

“Miami?” she said incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

“No, and it gets better. He landed safely in Miami and caught another flight to the Dominican Republic. I lost his trail there, but I found out that he’d purchased the tickets Friday and paid for them with two different credit cards, an American Express and a Visa. Both cards were in the name of Danielle Montgomery.”

“The rat ran.”

“I doubt he’ll be a problem for you or Katie, at least not in the next few years. He’s been writing bad checks. There are at least two warrants out for him in Maryland.” He paused. “And I checked with another buddy. The Mercedes wasn’t repossessed.”

“So what do you think happened to it?”

“Either he abandoned it or sold it. And since he was planning on making a getaway, I’d imagine he sold it.”

“How could Russell sell a car without a title?”

“Elizabeth, you’re such an innocent.” Michael chuckled. “He could easily forge a title, or he could sell it to a buyer who wasn’t particular. And, there are chop shops that regularly buy vehicles and disassemble them for parts. They pay pennies on the dollar, but the seller generally claims the vehicle stolen and collects insurance.”

“I suppose I should be relieved,” Liz said. “But I feel bad for Katie. She loves her father. This is one time it’s hell to be right.”

The phone by the bed woke Liz at quarter to three in the morning. She switched on the bedside light and checked the Caller ID before answering. The message read
unknown caller
, but she picked up. “Hello?”