Just Cause (4 page)

She stared at her chicken sandwich. Her appetite had deserted her, and she regretted spending money for the food. Her budget was tight on her meager wages.

A headache began at the base of her skull. She forced herself to eat, wondering how soon she could go home.

Home. The apartment was one cell in a honeycomb of modern brick buildings. Angles and walls stuck out in staggered tiers. More privacy, but less security.

For three weeks she had told herself she would get used to her new quarters, but every time she unlocked the door, she felt as though she were entering a storage closet. No use remembering the comfortable, sprawling Queen Anne house, with its turret and wraparound porch that oozed charm. She would never have a home like that again.

Her lack of personal belongings robbed her apartment of warmth. Art on the walls, that’s what it needed. Colorful throw pillows and shelves to display her books. She determined to clean up the mess, frame a couple of her drawings and buy a bookcase. And she would scour yard sales on Saturday and come home with some pretty knickknacks.

Family photos would help. Only a few had survived the fire that ripped through the family home while she was in college. But losing photos was far down her list of griefs. The fire had claimed her father’s life.

She had a few snapshots of herself and Bob, but Bob was gone now, too. When her trial ended with no verdict and she was released from jail a year and a half after his death, their large wedding portrait was missing. She assumed his mother had appropriated it. The framed five-by-seven on her dresser was her strongest reminder of Bob now. She looked hard at it every day when she got up, determined not to forget him. Was it still there, in the chaos the burglars had left?

The sudden thought that the police officers might find something revealing made her mouth go dry. She should never have called them. She ought to have steeled herself and gone inside alone. Now it was too late. What in the apartment would identify her as an accused murderer temporarily freed by a hung jury? Would whatever they found tell Dan and his partner what happened in Oakland, Maine?

“You know this woman?” Jessica sifted through the clothing on the bedroom rug.

“I just met her last week. She’s got a night job at the hospital.”

“She’s very attractive.”

Dan smiled vaguely. “Like I said, we just met.”

Jessica picked up a spiral-bound notebook and opened it. “Is she an artist?”

Dan looked over at the pencil drawing Jess was staring at. He reached for the sketchbook. A floppy-eared puppy wriggled on the page. “Looks like it.”

He flipped through the book. A sailboat, a curly-haired child, flowers. Lots of flowers and ferns. The drawings were good enough for a botanical field guide.

“Her car was rifled last week in the hospital parking lot.”

Jessica glanced at him. “She told you just now?”

“No, I was there. She didn’t know I was a sworn officer. Thought I was just plain security.”

“Ah. That explains her attitude when we arrived.”

“Partly.”

“She didn’t report the car incident?”

“No. She scared him off. He didn’t take anything.”

“What do you make of it?”

“Nothing yet.”

“But you don’t think it’s coincidental.”

Dan sighed. “Maybe something was taken after all, and she didn’t realize it. If the burglar found something with her address on it—say an envelope—it would be easy for him to come here and break in. And she might not miss a used envelope.”

Jess nodded. “That’s probably it. The two burglaries are connected.”

Dan couldn’t quite ignore the theory that the thief was searching for something specific. The way Laurel’s things were tossed about suggested that. There was no nuisance damage, the way kids did when they trashed a place for the fun of it. No broken glass, no graffiti on the walls.

This was more like a deliberate but hurried search. The terror in Laurel’s eyes when he’d suggested as much made him suspect he was right. She had just moved to Ohio. Computerized national databases were woefully incomplete. He could learn more if he tried, but it would take a lot of time and effort.

The technicians arrived, and Dan instructed them to lift fingerprints at the points of entry and exit, and on Laurel’s belongings.

“We’ll need her prints for comparison.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Dan said. “Take them then.” He and Jess headed outside to begin canvassing the neighbors. “I may check into this further,” he told Jess.

“Of course.”

“No, I mean Laurel. Her background. She’s not from Ohio. She had to come from somewhere, but she didn’t volunteer where.”

“You thought this break-in was the result of a thief gaining information during a random car burglary.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s part of a bigger pattern.”

“You think she’s hiding something?”

Dan nodded grudgingly. “She doesn’t want to talk about the past, that’s for sure.” What was it that she didn’t want him to know? She’d dodged his questions several times now.
How bad can it be?
A dozen possibilities ran through his mind. Illegal alien? Illegitimate child? Fatal disease? Rebellious youth?

“Maybe she’s in a witness protection program.” Dan laughed. It sounded ridiculous, even to him.

Jess eyed him pensively. “Could be she just had a rotten week.”

“I hope so.”

They were halfway down the walk, and Dan realized he still held Laurel’s sketchbook. He flipped the pages quickly, not knowing what he hoped to find there. The last drawing stopped him cold. She had sketched a view from a window, a view of a fenced yard. The fence was high, and the window was barred.

O
n Friday, Laurel called her parole officer in Augusta, Maine. “Mr. Webster, this is Laurel Hatcher.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Hatcher. Are you still at the same location?”

“Yes. I’m settling into my job.”

“Good, good. Still using your maiden name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No changes in address or telephone since last week, then?”

“No. I expect I’ll be a here a while. Well, until…you know.”

“Yes. Don’t forget to report to the police out there again before the end of the month. Your attorney or I will notify you immediately if anything changes here.”

“Thank you.” She hung up and stared at the phone. Should she have told him that her apartment had been ransacked? Then again, what could he do about it? If anything, he could recommend she be forced to return to Maine. She had temporarily escaped the hatred and rejection she’d found there. If it were up to her, she would forget about Maine and put the past behind her.

Mr. Webster was a link to her old life. No matter how hard she tried to forget, on Fridays she had to remember.

A defiant impulse coursed through her. What would happen if she didn’t call in one Friday? Would they track her down and pick her up again? She desperately wanted to melt into the dense population here and truly start over, shedding the past completely.

Even as the thought came, she dismissed it.

She had given her word. Behind Mr. Webster loomed a large legal bureaucracy that would relentlessly hunt her down if she failed to keep her promise.

Besides, she didn’t want to live a lie. It was bad enough having to keep things from people without making up a false background. But she had to go on being who she was, even if it exposed her to scrutiny. Her faith in God would sustain her. It had to.

The phone rang as Laurel was opening the bottle of ibuprofen. After spending most of Thursday afternoon and Friday cleaning her apartment, she wasn’t ready for Dan’s call. She’d thought all afternoon what she would say to him, but she still had no words to explain her chaotic situation. Her head pounded, and she managed to down two tablets before she snatched up the receiver.

“Hello.” The fatigue came across in her voice.

“Laurel? Are you all right?”

“Sorry, Dan. I was up late at work last night, and I didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to update you on the investigation. We didn’t get any fingerprints, other than yours and your building super’s.”

Several frightening possibilities presented themselves. Allowing the police department technician to take her fingerprints the day before had brought on intense anxiety.

“And?” Her voice squeaked.

“You’re not in the system, but then you knew that.”

He doesn’t know yet!
She exhaled carefully. “Do you think the superintendent broke in? That doesn’t make sense. He has a key.”

“No, we checked, and he did some maintenance and repairs on your unit this spring before you moved in. When the techs checked around the window, where the screen was cut, that’s all they found.”

“So…” She put her hand to her forehead, where the headache had migrated and taken up residence.

“Gloves. It’s all we can figure.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“I’m sorry you’re having such a rough time.”

She was silent for a moment, soaking up the gentle concern in his voice. “Thank you. I just need some quiet time to put things in perspective.”

“I was hoping we’d get some good prints so we could check the database.”

“How extensive is that database?”

“It’s for the entire state of Ohio.”

“Impressive.”

“Well, we have access to national databases, too. But without any clear prints from the suspect…”

Laurel gulped, but could not bypass the lump in her throat to answer him. If he ran her prints through the national database, he would have a shock.

“I wish you didn’t have to work tonight,” he said. “I’d take you someplace quiet. How about Sunday?” His quiet voice sounded tentative but hopeful. “There’s a place I’d like to take you. It’s peaceful.”

Laurel closed her eyes. Would it be so foolish to get close to someone like Dan? More than anything, she wanted to accept his invitation. “Where is it?”

“My church.”

Something good and sweet burst over her, and she lay back against the hard arm of the sofa. “I’d like that.”

Dan sighed, as though he had been holding his breath, waiting for her reaction. “You don’t think that’s corny? A lot of people are turned off when they find out I go to church, and when they learn that I go three times a week if I can, they think I’m some kind of cult fanatic.”

“It’s the sanest thing I’ve heard since I moved to Ohio,” Laurel said.

“It’s not a big church, but it’s good. Do you…go to church?”

“I visited one a couple of weeks ago, but it wasn’t right for me.” She repressed the memory of when she slipped into the auditorium just after eleven o’clock, thinking she would find a back seat. The large church was more than half full, and no seats were open near the back. Her pulse raced, and she felt hot all over. An usher appeared to guide her down the aisle. The prospect of being stared at by so many people terrified her, and she choked out, “Excuse me,” and bolted out the door.

“Haven’t found the right one?” Dan asked.

“Not yet.”

“Try this one. I’ll pick you up Sunday morning.”

Apprehension sprang through her again. If only he weren’t a police officer. Everything else about him seemed perfect. So perfect that she wanted to take the chance it would work. And attending his church would tell her a lot about him. She took a deep breath and tried to sound lighthearted. “Why not?”

“Fantastic. Nine-thirty? We’ll go to Sunday school.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Laurel, I need to talk business for a minute.”

“What is it?” She rubbed her temple with her fingertips, trying to ease the dull pain.

“I can see that you value your privacy, and I know this investigation has been difficult for you. I’m truly sorry. But if there’s anything else you remember that will help us find out who did it, please tell me. That man in the hospital parking lot, too. If the two crimes are related—”

Laurel clenched the receiver. “What if we just forget it?”

There was a silence. “I…can’t do that, and I’m not sure I want to. I want to know there’s not more to this, and I want to be reasonably certain it won’t happen again.”

She heard her own choppy breath and pulled away from the receiver for a moment so he wouldn’t hear it. “Please, Dan, I just want to get on with my life.”

“I’m just trying to solve this burglary, so you can feel safe again and not worry when you come home from work at night.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to let things go.” She knew that wouldn’t make sense to someone as practical as Dan.

“If I knew they wouldn’t bother you again, I’d consider that. Maybe you should get a roommate.”

“No,” she said quickly. “Too invasive.”

“You’ve got a point. I suppose you could get a dog.”

She smiled involuntarily, but she knew she wouldn’t get one. Pets tied people down. If she had to move suddenly, she couldn’t be encumbered by a dog.
Or a man,
she thought, but firmly squelched that notion.

“Let me give you my cell phone number.”

Another thread binding them together, barely perceptible. “All right, if you want to.”

“I do. If anything happens, please call me directly. Laurel, I don’t want you to be afraid.”

She drew in a breath. “I’m not. Honest.”

“That’s good. I want you to feel secure and I hope having me just a phone call away helps.”

“It helps more than you realize, Dan.”

When they had hung up, she set her alarm clock and lay down on her bed for half an hour. The headache receded at last, but she still couldn’t sleep. What was she getting herself into? Already Dan was digging into the past, and her reluctance to have him do that made him suspicious.

But already her impressions of Dan were strong enough to be called feelings, and that troubled her. They were becoming confused with her residual feelings for Bob. Maybe it was too soon.

The broader implication of the conversation also worried her. Had someone followed her here? She wouldn’t have thought it likely, but she’d had two incidents in a short time. Any cop would find that significant. Why would thieves target a penniless woman? Dan would find out. She knew he would. Maybe it would be better to just tell him, but how would he react?

She rose to get ready for work. As she rummaged in the drawer for clean socks, the picture on the dresser drew her attention.

Bob. Losing him had been so hard. The trauma that followed his death had destroyed her confidence, her security, her trust—everything that mattered except her faith, and she had nearly lost that.

She picked up the frame and looked at herself and Bob, radiantly happy, six months into their marriage. Her throat ached and tears filled her eyes.

It’s been a long time,
she told herself.
Lord, it hurts so much to remember, but I don’t want to forget.

Would she ever be able to feel really comfortable with another man? Did she want to? Explaining her life to anyone would take a monumental effort and at this point she wasn’t sure she had it in her to risk her heart again.

When Laurel woke on Saturday, the prospect of the weekend ahead nudged her to action.

She’d seen a notice for a rummage sale at the YMCA downtown. Who knew what she might find there? Ten dollars was the limit she’d set for mad money. She would buy the best bric-a-brac available within her budget.

And tomorrow…

She refused to imagine a negative outcome from her date with Dan. She eagerly anticipated attending church, and Dan would be a buffer between her and the congregation. Would the pastor be like her old pastor in Maine? Losing her church family was a tremendous regret. But she had followed her lawyer’s advice after her release and lived in virtual seclusion, not contacting anyone in Oakland. Now she wondered if Jim Hight hadn’t been a bit overzealous.

Two years!

Two years since she had been an active member of a church. And Dan was about to give that back to her. It was too wonderful. Something would happen to ruin it.

Before she left for her shopping expedition, she put on sunglasses and a cap. No sense being conspicuous, even at a rummage sale.

When she returned that afternoon, she was content. Not only had she found some African animal carvings and a lovely Bavarian vase at the rummage sale, but a small pine bookcase lay in the trunk of her car.

She took the small items in first. Standing in the doorway for a moment, she scanned the living room. She always followed this precursory assessment with a quick glance into the bedroom and kitchen. Belongings neat, windowpanes and screens intact. She sighed in relief and turned to the bathroom. A quick check there and she would bring in the bookcase.

Her gaze flicked first to the shower, where she always left the curtain pushed back so she could instantly know that no one was concealed there. She’d told herself this was silly, but it kept her heart from racing in fear, so she did it.

As she moved, her reflection in the mirror over the sink drew her eye. Black letters scrawled on the glass stared back at her. Her chest tightened, and she froze in place. The message registered in her brain and the air rushed out of her lungs.

DON’T FORGeT YOUR FRieNDS.

Dan jogged up the steps to the hall where his string ensemble rehearsed every Saturday afternoon. In exchange for free use of the hall, they performed at an annual benefit concert for the Lions Club.

He greeted the others cheerfully and set his violin case down. Joe Cooper helped him arrange the chairs and music stands.

“How are you doing, Dan?” Judy Nichols asked.

“Fantastic.”

“What’s her name?” Joe blurted out and they all laughed. Dan grinned, too, and Joe eyed him suspiciously. “Tell me there’s really a girl.”

“I’m planning to take her to church tomorrow.” Immediately Dan wondered if the announcement was a mistake, but his friends moved smoothly from surprise to approval.

“Good for you,” said Judy. “Bring her to the concert next week.”

“How well do you know her?” Marcia Smith asked, opening her viola case.

“Not well. She hasn’t been in the area long. I met her on my weekend job.”

Marcia nodded. “I hope it works out for you.”

“Thanks.” Dan respected and liked the other three members of the quartet. Marcia and her husband of forty years owned a llama farm outside the city. Judy was a physician’s assistant in a large medical office. Joe, closer to Dan’s age, worked full-time as a city bus driver and gave cello lessons.