“Sounds like he’s done this before.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
Jeffrey tried to press her. “What’s he running away from?”
“Everything,” she said, but she did not explain. “My working life has been built around helping people confront their past, yet I can’t help my own husband stay and face his demons.” She said more quietly, “I can’t even help myself.”
“What demons does he have here?”
“The same as mine, I suppose. Every corner I turn, I expect to see Andy. I’m at home and I hear something outside and look out the window, expecting to see him climbing the stairs to his room. It has to be harder for Brian, working in the lab. I know it’s harder for him. He has to meet this deadline. A tremendous amount of money is at stake. I know that. I know all of that.”
Her voice had gone up, and he sensed anger that had been brewing for a while.
He asked, “Is this about the affair?”
“What affair?” she said, and her surprise seemed genuine.
“I’d heard a rumor,” Jeffrey explained, wanting to kick Richard Carter’s teeth in. “Someone told me that Brian was involved with a student.”
“Oh, God,” she breathed, covering her lips with the collar. “I almost wish that were true. Isn’t that horrible?” she asked. “It would mean he was capable of caring about something other than his precious research.”
“He cared for his son,” Jeffrey said, remembering the argument he had overheard the day before. Rosen had accused Keller of not caring about Andy until after he was dead.
“He cares in spurts,” she said. “That car. The clothes. The television. He bought things. That was how he cared.”
There was something else she was trying to tell him, but Jeffrey did not know what. He asked, “Where does he want to move?”
“Who knows?” she said. “He’s like a turtle. Whenever anything bad happens, his response is to tuck his head in and wait for it to pass.” She smiled, realizing that she had been tucking her head into her collar. “Visual aid.”
He returned her smile.
“I just can’t do it. I can’t live this way anymore.” She slid her gaze toward Jeffrey. “Will you bill me for this session, or should I pay you now?”
He smiled again, willing her to continue.
“I suppose your job is very similar to mine in a lot of ways. You listen to people talk and you try to figure out what they’re really trying to say.”
“What are you really trying to say?”
She considered the question. “That I’m tired,” she said. “That I want a life—any life. I stayed with Brian because I thought it would be better for Andy, but now that Andy is gone . . .”
She started to cry, and Jeffrey reached for his handkerchief. He did not notice the blood from Lena’s hand until after he had handed her the cloth.
He apologized, “I’m sorry.”
“Did you cut yourself?”
“Lena did,” he told her, watching her reaction closely. “I talked to her this morning. She was cut under her eye. Someone hit her.”
Concern flashed in the woman’s eyes, but she said nothing.
“She’s seeing someone,” he said, and Rosen seemed to be forcing herself to keep her mouth closed. “This morning I went to her apartment, and he was there with her.”
Rosen did not tell him to go on, but her eyes were pleading with him. Her fear for Lena’s safety was obvious.
“Her eye was cut and her wrist was bruised, like someone had grabbed her.” He waited a beat. “This guy has a past, Dr. Rosen. He’s a very dangerous and violent man.”
She was on the edge of the bench, practically begging for him to continue.
“Ethan White,” he said. “Does that name sound familiar to you?”
“No,” she told him. “Should it?”
“I hoped it might,” he said, because it would mean a clear connection between Andy Rosen and Ethan White.
“Was she hurt badly?” Rosen asked.
“From what I could see, no,” Jeffrey said. “But she kept picking at her hand. She was bleeding, and she kept picking at the scar.”
Rosen pressed her lips together again.
“I don’t know how to get her away from him,” Jeffrey said. “I don’t know how to help her.”
She looked off into the distance, staring at the students again. “She can only help herself,” Rosen said, her tone giving a deeper meaning to her words.
“Was she a patient of yours?” Jeffrey asked, hoping to God this was the case.
“You know I can’t give you that kind of information.”
“I know,” Jeffrey said, “but hypothetically, if you could, it would answer a question for me.”
She looked at him. “What question is that?”
“When we were by the river, Chuck said your son’s name, and Lena seemed surprised, like she knew him,” Jeffrey said, working it out as he talked. “Now, could it be that when Lena said ‘Rosen,’ like she knew the name, she was saying it because she knew you, not because she knew Andy?”
The woman seemed to consider how she could answer Jeffrey without compromising what she believed in.
“Dr. Rosen . . .”
She sat back on the bench, drawing her collar closer. “My husband is coming.”
Jeffrey tried to hide his exasperation. Keller was about fifty feet away, and Rosen could have answered Jeffrey’s question if she had really wanted to.
Jeffrey greeted the man. “Dr. Keller.”
He seemed confused to see his wife and Jeffrey together. He asked, “Is something wrong?”
Jeffrey stood, indicating that Keller should sit, but the man ignored him, asking his wife, “Do you have my keys?”
She handed him the ring, barely looking at him.
“I need to get back to work,” Keller said. “Jill, you should go home.”
Rosen started to stand.
“I have to tell you both something,” Jeffrey said, gesturing for her to stay seated. “It’s about Andy.”
Keller gave a look that said his son was the last thing on his mind.
“I wanted to tell you both this before it was released on campus,” Jeffrey said. “I’m not certain your son’s death was a suicide.”
Rosen asked, “What?”
“I can’t rule out the possibility that he might have been killed,” Jeffrey told them.
Keller dropped his keys but did not pick them up.
Jeffrey continued, “We didn’t find anything conclusive in Andy’s autopsy, but Ellen Schaffer—”
“The girl from yesterday?” Rosen interrupted.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeffrey said. “There’s no question she was murdered. Considering the fact that it was staged to look like a suicide, we have to question the circumstances surrounding your son’s death. I can’t say with all honesty that we have anything to prove he didn’t take his life, but we have strong suspicions, and I’m going to investigate this until I find out the truth.”
She sat back on the bench, her lips parted.
Jeffrey continued, “I have to tell the dean about this, but I wanted y’all to hear it first.”
Rosen asked, “What about the note?”
“That’s one of the things I don’t have an explanation for,” Jeffrey said. “And I’m sorry to say that all I can give you right now is what I suspect. We’re exploring every possible avenue we can to try to find out exactly what happened, but I have to be honest: Nothing obvious is coming to mind. The two cases could be completely unrelated. It could be that at the end of all this we find out that Andy really did kill himself.”
Keller exploded, and his rage was so unexpected that Jeffrey stepped back.
“How the hell can this happen?” Keller demanded. “How the hell can you let me and my wife think our son killed himself when—”
“Brian,” Rosen tried.
“Shut up, Jill,” he snapped, his hand flicking like he might strike her. “This is prepost
erous. This is . . .” He was too angry to speak, but his mouth moved as he considered words to describe how he felt. “I cannot believe . . .” He leaned down and snatched up his keys. “This college, this whole town . . .” He put his finger in his wife’s face, and she backed away as if to defend herself.
Keller rose to his full height, screaming, “I told you, Jill. I told you what a hellhole this place is!”
Jeffrey stepped in, saying, “Dr. Keller, I think you need to calm down.”
“I think you need to mind your own business and figure out who murdered my son!” he roared, his face contorted with rage. “You Keystone Kops think you run this town, but this is like living in a Third World country. You’re all corrupt. You’re all answering to Albert Gaines.”
Jeffrey had had enough. “We’ll talk about this some other time, Dr. Keller, when you’ve had a chance to absorb all this.”
This time, Keller put his finger in Jeffrey’s face. “You’re damn right we’ll talk about this,” he said, then turned his back on them both and stomped away.
Jill Rosen immediately apologized for her husband. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize for him,” Jeffrey said, trying to keep his own anger at bay. He wanted to follow Keller back to his lab, but both of them probably needed a few minutes to calm down.
Jeffrey told Rosen, feeling her desperation, “I’m sorry I can’t give you more information that that.”
She clutched her collar to her neck, asking, “Your hypothetical question from before?”
“Yes?”
“It’s related to Andy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he told her, trying to shift gears.
Rosen stared out at the quad, at the students sitting on the lawn and enjoying the day. “Hypothetically,” she said, “she might have a reason to recognize my name.”
“Thank you,” Jeffrey said, feeling an inordinate amount of relief to have at least one thing explained.
“About the other,” she said, still watching the students. “The man she’s seeing?”
“Do you know him?” Jeffrey asked, then amended, “Hypothetically?”
“Oh, I know him,” she said. “Or at least I know his type. I know his type better than I know myself.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
She pulled back her collar, taking down the zipper to show a large bruise on her clavicle. Black finger marks were pressed into the side of her neck. Someone had tried to choke her.
Jeffrey could only stare. “Who . . . ,” he said, but the answer was obvious.
Rosen zipped her shirt back up. “I should go.”
“I can take you somewhere,” Jeffrey offered. “To a shelter—”
“I’ll go to my mother’s,” she told him, smiling sadly. “I always go to my mother’s.”
“Dr. Rosen,” he said. “Jill—”
“I appreciate your concern,” she interrupted. “But I really have to go.”
He stood there, watching her make her way past a group of students. She stopped briefly to talk to one of them, acting as if nothing had happened. He was torn between following her and tracking down Brian Keller to let him know exactly how it felt to be pushed around.
On impulse, Jeffrey chose the latter, walking toward the science building at a fast pace. As a kid, he had interrupted enough fights between his parents to know that anger only fueled more anger, so he took a deep, calming breath before opening the door to Keller’s lab.
The room was empty but for Richard Carter, who stood behind the desk, tapping a pen against his chin. His expectant look quickly turned to one of disappointment when he recognized Jeffrey. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you.”
“Where’s Keller?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Richard snapped, clearly annoyed. He bent back over the desk, scribbling a note. “He was supposed to meet me thirty minutes ago.”
“I just talked to his wife about that so-called affair he was having.”
He perked up at this, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah? What’d she say?”
“That it wasn’t true.” Jeffrey warned, “You need to be more careful about what you say.”
Richard looked hurt. “I told you it was a rumor. I made it very clear that—”
“You’re messing around with people’s lives. Not to mention wasting my time.”
Richard sighed as he returned to his note. He mumbled, “Sorry,” the way a child might.
Jeffrey did not let him off that easy. “Because of you, I’ve been chasing my tail tracking down this rumor when I could’ve been working on something that might actually help.” When there was no response, Jeffrey felt the need to add, “People are dead, Richard.”
“I’m well aware of that, Chief Tolliver, but what on earth does that have to do with me?” Richard did not give him a chance to respond. “Can I be honest with you? I know what happened was horrible, but we’ve got work to do. Important work. There’s a group in California working on this same thing. They’re not just going to say, ‘Oh, Brian Keller’s had a hard time lately, let’s stop until he feels better.’ No, sir. They’re going at it night and day—night and day—to beat us to the punch. Science is not a gentleman’s game. Millions, maybe billions, are on the line.”
He sounded like an infomercial trying to pressure some poor sucker into buying a set of steak knives in the next two minutes. Jeffrey said, “I didn’t know you and Brian worked together.”
“When he bothers to show up.” He threw down his pen on the desk, picked up his briefcase, and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Class,” Richard said, as if Jeffrey were stupid. “Some of us actually show up when we’re supposed to.”
He left in a dramatic huff. Rather than follow him, Jeffrey went to Keller’s desk and read the note: “Dear Brian, I suppose you’re still busy with Andy, but we really should get the documentation together. If you need me to do it on my own, just say the word.” Richard had put a smiley face next to his name.
Jeffrey read the note through twice, trying to reconcile the helpful tone with Richard’s obvious irritation. It didn’t jibe, though Richard was hardly the rational type.
He glanced toward the door before deciding to make himself at home and go through Keller’s desk. He was kneeling down, rifling the bottom file drawer, when his cell phone rang.
“Tolliver.”
“Chief,” Frank said. By his tone, Jeffrey could have guessed what was coming next. “We found another body.”
Jeffrey parked his car in front of the men’s dorm, thinking if he never saw the Grant Tech campus again, he would be a happy man. He could not forget the blank expression on Jill Rosen’s face and wondered how surprised he must have looked when she showed him her bruises. He would not have guessed in a million years that Keller was the type of man to beat his wife, but Jeffrey had been caught off guard by too many revelations today to feel stupid for missing what might have been obvious signs.
Jeffrey took out his phone, debating whether to call Sara. He did not want her at the crime scene, but he knew she needed to see the body in situ. Jeffrey tried to think of a good excuse to keep her away but finally relented, dialing her number.
The phone rang five times before Sara picked up, mumbling a groggy hello.
“Hey,” Jeffrey said.
“What time is it?”
He told her, thinking she sounded better than she had last night. He said, “I’m sorry I’m waking you up.”
“Hm . . . what?” she asked, and he could hear her moving around in bed. He had a flash of being there beside her and felt a stirring he had not felt in a while. There was nothing he wanted more than to slip into bed beside Sara and start this day over again.
Sara said, “Mama called about twenty minutes ago. Tessa’s doing a little better.” She yawned loudly. “I’ve got some paperwork at the morgue, and then I’m going to drive back this afternoon.”
“That’s why I’m callin
g.”
There was dread in her voice. “What?”
“A hanging,” he said. “At the college.”
“Christ,” Sara breathed. Jeffrey felt the same way. In a town where the murder rate was ten times lower than the national average, bodies were suddenly stacking up to the walls.
She asked, “What time?”
“I’m not sure yet. I just got the call.” He knew what her response to his words would be, but he had to say, “You could send Carlos.”
“I have to see the body.”
“I don’t like the thought of you on campus,” he told her. “If something happened—”
“I’m not going to not do my job,” she said, her tone making it clear there was no point arguing.
Jeffrey knew she was right. Sara did not just have a job to do; she had to live her life. He thought about what Lena had looked like this morning and the bruises on Jill Rosen’s neck. Should he let them just live their lives, too?
“Jeff?”
He relented. “It’s the men’s dorm, Building B.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Jeffrey ended the call and got out of the car. He steered his way past the group of boys outside the door and walked into the dorm, the strong smell of liquor enveloping him like a cloud. Back at Auburn, where Jeffrey had studied history in between warming the bench for the rest of the football team, they had partied pretty hard, but he could not remember his dorm ever smelling like a liquor store.
“Hey, Chief,” Chuck said. He was standing at the top of the stairs, hands tucked into the front pockets of his tight pants. The effect was obscene, and Jeffrey wished the other man would back up from the stairs Jeffrey was about to climb.
“Chuck,” Jeffrey said, watching the steps as he walked up them.
“Glad you finally showed up. Kev and I were waiting around for you.”
Jeffrey frowned at the way he threw around the dean’s name like they were best friends. Except for the fact that Albert Gaines was Chuck’s father, Kevin Blake wouldn’t have given Chuck the time of day, let alone play golf with the man. Not that Kevin would be seeing the greens anytime soon. He’d probably be spending the rest of the month fielding phone calls from anxious parents who were nervous about their kids being at a school where three of their classmates had died.
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