Just Cause (7 page)

Dan crinkled his forehead. “What about the rest of your personal things?”

“They had my clothing and a few other things boxed up and put in storage while I was in jail. I got those, but that’s it. I think they even took a few of my paintings, but why they would do that if they hate me so much is beyond me.”

“You mean, paintings you did yourself?” He remembered the art supplies he’d seen in her apartment after the first break-in.

“Yes.”

“Were they worth anything?” he inquired.

She looked away with a tiny shrug. “I sold a few pieces for between three and five hundred dollars each, and I won a prize at the Waterville Arts Fest the summer before. But I wasn’t well-known, and now I’m less than nothing in the art world.”

“Maybe not. Think about it. A painting by a convicted murderer might be worth something, especially if it’s good.”

She shuddered. “That’s despicable.”

“I’d like to see your art.”

She said nothing.

“What about your husband’s things? Clothes, books, sporting equipment?”

“Gone.”

He pressed on. “Photos?”

“I have a few. Those and my paints.”

Dan ruminated on that as he turned into the church parking lot. “Your computer.”

“It’s new. I took a risk and bought it when I got here. But I almost ran out of money before I got my job because of it. So there wouldn’t be anything on the hard drive the killers would find useful.” The intruder probably knew that, Dan reasoned. Otherwise the computer would have been stolen.

“The second trial is imminent, and there’s something the killers are afraid will come out this time. So they traced you, hoping to find whatever it is that could incriminate them,” Dan suggested.

“I can’t believe I ever had anything like that without knowing it.”

Dan parked the truck and sat still for a moment. “What other explanation is there?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed. “Renee. What about her? She was definitely in my apartment. The message, the blouse…”

“True.”

“And Renee had nothing to do with Bob’s death. She was in jail on another charge when it happened.”

“Renee is incidental. But however she found you, Bob’s killers took the same route. They both learned you were here, and they came after you for different reasons.”

“You must be right. I’ve got two sets of enemies after me.”

“I’m afraid so.”

The anxious frown between her eyebrows deepened. “Dan, I’m frightened.”

He touched her cheek. She was telling him the truth. He could feel it. “I’m in this with you now, Laurel.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Thank you. I’d try to talk you out of it, but I don’t think I’d succeed.”

“You’re right. I don’t know what would sway a jury, but if it’s out there I’ll find it.”

D
an tried to ignore the stares as they entered the church, but he couldn’t repress a smile. The teacher was about to start the adult class in the auditorium, so no one made a scene, but he could tell everyone was curious about the lovely woman sitting beside him.

Laurel listened avidly to the Sunday school lesson, and she turned easily to the place in her Bible. Dan allowed himself to let go of his anxiety and relax against the padded pew.

Between the services, Terry Wyman stopped in the aisle with his wife, Donna.

“Hey, Dan.” They shook hands, and Laurel smiled warmly as he introduced the Wymans.

Donna immediately launched into a conversation with Laurel. Dan worried that Laurel would feel smothered by Donna’s enthusiasm, but she held up her end, answering the usual questions about where she lived and worked. He chatted with Terry, but tried to stay aware of how things went between the women and caught a knowing smile from Donna. She and Terry had tried several times to fix him up with nice girls they knew.

Terry leaned toward him. “About time.”

“Hey, don’t get overly jubilant here,” Dan shot back.

“Right. But the fact that you’re bringing her here is an improvement. We’d about given up hope for you.”

Dan grimaced, taking Terry’s comment as a veiled reference to Ashleigh. Definitely a mistake.

“I’d better go collect our daughter from her Sunday school class,” Donna said a few moments later. She headed toward the back of the auditorium, and Terry settled in a pew across the aisle.

Laurel turned her face up toward Dan. “Nice people. Old friends?”

“Yeah. Terry and I were in school together, and we see each other here pretty often. He’s in construction. We play some basketball together.”

Her nearness ambushed him. Her imperfect nose, her creamy skin, her sparkling eyes—

She closed them precipitately, taking a quick breath. Had she felt it, too? Dan hoped she had felt
something
.

She was quiet through the worship service. He suspected she avoided looking directly at him. She murmured her thanks when he held out the hymnbook, and held her edge of it almost gingerly as they sang. Her voice was quiet, but true and clear. Did she like music? She must. Still, he felt he knew nothing about her, except that she was accused of killing her husband and must face a second trial for it.

Those were not the things Dan wanted to know about her. Despite his feeling that caution was needed, the idea of discovering all the commonplace things about her excited him. But in order to do that, he needed to see her go free.

Dan forced his mind back to the service. He knew that at a time like this, prayer was just what he needed to bolster his spirits and infuse him with renewed purpose.

“I like your church,” Laurel told Dan in the truck afterward. The pastor’s message had touched her heart, and she’d felt almost at home.

“I’m glad.” His eyes gleamed as he backed out of the parking spot. “Come back.”

“We’ll see.” She hoped she could do that, but with the future so tenuous, she didn’t dare consider it yet.

“I’d like to take you out to eat,” he said, “but we need to keep you out of sight.”

“So where are we going?”

“I called a friend last night. She’s open to having you stay with her for a while.”

Laurel stared at him in surprise. “I thought I was too much of a liability.”

“Judy’s very laid-back, and she’s single. She’s willing to take the risk.”

Dan must know this woman well to make that decision, Laurel realized. She wondered what their relationship was. “Did you tell her everything?”

“No, just about the burglaries. But she’s smart. You may want to tell her the rest before she figures it out. I’ll leave that up to you.”

Laurel took a deep breath. She didn’t like bouncing around from place to place, depending on the kindness of strangers. “What about my stuff?”

“If you and Judy hit it off, I’ll go pack it up this afternoon. You can call the superintendent and tell him you’re moving out.”

“If I don’t clean the apartment, I’ll lose the deposit.”

Dan shot her a sober glance. “How critical is that?”

“I’m basically broke. My paycheck is pretty small.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You can’t.”

“Yes, I can. I have lots of friends who will help.”

“Just take me over there for a couple of hours. I can do it.”

“No,” he said firmly.

Laurel watched him drive for a moment. “And my car?”

“I’ll get someone to help me move it to Judy’s if you want, but it might be better for you to sell it and get something else.”

Laurel smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt and tried calm her racing thoughts. “You think I should change cars?”

“I’m sorry, but they know your car. If it’s a killer who is after you, he won’t stop at going through your things. Next time he’ll want your purse or the contents of your pockets.”

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

“Do you want me to make an official report?”

She looked out the window, considering. “Would they put me back in jail?”

“I doubt it. I don’t know.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“That might be the only way they could protect you. Or, if the commissioner thought you were too much of a headache, I suppose he might send you back to Maine.”

“I’m allowed to be here,” she protested.

“Not if he convinces the Maine courts that you’re a liability to the people of Ohio.”

He put the turn signal on, and Laurel realized they had reached their destination. A new apprehension hit her. “What if your friend hates me?”

Dan parked the truck and turned toward her. “No chance,” he whispered. “Relax.”

A middle-aged woman emerged from the breezeway of the shingled Cape Cod, and Laurel took a deep breath. Judy was not at all what she had expected. But then, what did she expect? One of Dan’s old girlfriends?

He lowered his window as Judy approached.

“Hi, Dan. Why don’t you pull over behind the willow tree, and I’ll take Laurel inside.”

“Good idea.”

Laurel climbed from the cab and followed her hostess into the house.

Judy closed the door behind them. “Welcome! I’m excited to have you here.”

“Thank you. Dan was very hush-hush about the arrangements. I hate to put you out.”

“No problem. I need a little pizzazz in my life.” Judy’s lively brown eyes belied the sprinkling of gray in her short hair. “Dan says you’re having a rough time, and I offered my hospitality, such as it is. I’m gone a lot, and it’s quiet here. He thought you’d like that.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Laurel wondered how this woman could trust someone she’d never met with her lovely home and treasured belongings. Judy didn’t seem to be the naive type, but she was throwing her private life open to a stranger in trouble. Of course, Laurel was here on Dan’s recommendation. That must be it. Everyone trusted Dan. He would never bring an unsavory character into their lives. As she followed Judy to the room where she would stay, she vowed not to let Dan down.

The rich colors and functional antiques in the house charmed her. Judy’s casual conversation put Laurel and Dan at ease as they shared lunch. When she learned her hostess was a physician’s assistant, Laurel again felt her own inadequacy. She’d never held a job that paid more than minimum wage.

Judy smiled at her. “What do you do for work, Laurel? Seems to me Dan mentioned you work at the hospital.”

“Yes. I update their Web site five nights a week.”

“From home?”

“No, I go in and work there.”

Judy frowned. “Surely you could do it from home. That is, if you have a computer.”

“I do. And you’re right—I could easily work from home.”

“I know some people in administration. If you want, I can ask them about it. Under the circumstances it would be safer.”

“Do you think they’d go along with that?” Dan helped himself to more salad. “Because I can bring Laurel’s computer here and set it up.”

“I don’t see why not,” said Judy. “The hospital has home health care workers with home offices. They go in once or twice a week for files on their casework.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Laurel said.

“Just don’t let on that she’s staying with you,” Dan cautioned.

Judy nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very discreet.”

Laurel looked at Dan and Judy. “You’re both doing so much for me, and, Dan, you have an entire life outside of this. I feel as though I’m ruining it by monopolizing so much of your time.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the phrase I’d use to describe what you’ve done to my life in the last two weeks, Laurel.”

Judy arched her eyebrows and smiled. “I believe it’s time for me to start the dishwasher.”

“Let me help you.” Laurel started to rise.

“No, you have more important things to do. You and Dan must have things to talk about before he goes on duty tonight.”

“That’s right. You have to work at the hospital.” Again Laurel was struck by what a huge inconvenience she brought to Dan. There wasn’t room in his life for her.

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Judy’s right. We need to talk, and then I’ll go for the rest of your things.”

Judy gathered their coffee cups and headed for the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home.”

Dan stood and led Laurel into the living room. They sat down on the brown plush sofa.

“I read what I could find by computer last night,” he said. “It told me enough, I think.”

“Enough for what?”

“Enough to tell me you got a lousy deal.”

She gave a short laugh.

“I mean it. You shouldn’t have to live with it hanging over you. It’s bad enough to lose someone you love—”

“How do you know I loved him?” Her voice came out tight.

Dan took a deep breath. “You must have. You would never marry a man you didn’t love. Not you, Laurel.”

He reached for her hand and Laurel sat still, unable to quell the thrill that his touch evoked.

“It’s hard to even think about it,” he said. “You went through so much. I hope you weren’t alone in all of that.”

Laurel’s heart raced. Her feelings for Dan were growing. He was conscientious and reliable, but more than that, he was tender and compassionate. She knew that if things progressed in this direction, she would soon be helplessly in love with him.

“My lawyer tried hard,” she whispered.

“How about your family?”

She shook her head. “My close family’s gone. And Bob’s family was…hostile.”

“I gathered that much from the clippings. But you must have had a church family.”

She shook her head. “My pastor was away when it happened, and I didn’t dare to contact anyone. The pastor did come to see me a couple of times later on, but I told him not to come to the jail too often. After the trial, my lawyer found me a place in Portland. He told me not to contact anyone, just to let him handle lining up witnesses for the next phase.”

“But how could your friends leave you alone like that?”

“People were confused, and it bothered them to have me around. I never knew who would be nice to me, and who would be mean or ignore me. I didn’t want to put the pastor in an awkward position. And my lawyer thought it was best that way. After I moved to Portland I went to church a few times, but it was always to a different church.”

“Is your lawyer a believer?”

She shook her head.

“How could you stand it, being alone like that?”

“I’ve tried not to think about it lately,” she confessed. “It was pretty awful. After the trial, I wanted to go home and lock myself in, but I didn’t have a home anymore. As I mentioned earlier, Bob’s parents sold the house they’d bought for us. And things were so tense in Oakland, I was afraid to stay in town.”

Dan stared at her. “I don’t see how anyone who knew you could think you were guilty.”

“It seemed like everyone thought I did it, even though I wasn’t convicted, and it was just a matter of time before the court did a recount and said so. Even down in Portland, everyone knew who I was. I’d walk into a store and people would stare. I had no income. The insurance company won’t settle until the case is closed, and the civil suit can’t go forward. I applied for jobs, but they all wanted to know if I had a criminal record. It was just too hard.”

“So the judge let you move away.”

“Yes. I petitioned him, and my lawyer made a good plea for me. Convinced him it would save the state of Maine a bundle, that I’d be better off where I could live in anonymity and that I wasn’t a flight risk. After a few weeks, the judge agreed to let me leave the area. I had to practically sign my life away, and I have to check in by phone every week. It’s not as bad as prison, but…” She sobbed involuntarily. “If they call me back…”