by J. D. Robb
“You’re on.” And because it just felt right, she laid her head on his shoulder.
She missed the first sentence or two the chirpy on-air reporter said. Even when Roarke’s name was announced—and her own—she might have let it slip.
But he stiffened against her so she focused on the screen. The air inside her body simply evaporated, and left her hollow.
He stood with Magdelana, stood close, looking down at her. Just the barest hint of a smile on his face. A face Magdelana held intimately in her hands.
“…identified by our sources as European socialite Magdelana Percell, recently divorced from Georges Fayette, a wealthy French entrepreneur. It appears Ms. Percell has an eye for wealthy men as she was seen lunching with Roarke only days ago at the exclusive Sisters Three restaurant here in New York. According to our sources, the pair enjoyed seasonal salads and a great deal of intimate conversation. We wonder if Lieutenant Eve Dallas, one of New York’s top cops, and Roarke’s wife of the last year and a half, is investigating.”
“Fuck me,” Roarke muttered. “What bloody bullshit. I’m sorry they—”
He stopped whatever he was going to say as she was pulling very slowly, very deliberately away from him. And he saw her face. It was sheet white, her eyes dark and shocked against the utter pallor.
“Christ Jesus, Eve, you can’t—”
“I have to go to work.” The words jumped so in her throat, in her head, she wasn’t sure they came out in the right order.
“Bollocks to that. To all of this. I did nothing, and you should know it—damn it, you should know without me saying it. I walked her out of the building. She came to see me, and I gave her less than ten minutes before I showed her the door. I felt small doing so, if you must know, but I’d rather hurt her feelings than cause you a moment of unhappiness.”
She spoke as slowly and deliberately as she’d moved. “I need you to back off.”
“Fuck that! Fuck it, Eve. Am I to be tried and condemned because some moron had a vid-cam at the right moment? A moment when a woman I once cared for said good-bye? Do you think I’d have embarrassed you, or myself come to that, in this way?”
“You did, you did embarrass both of us this way. But that’s not important, that’s not the point.”
“Damn if I’ll apologize for helping a woman into her car on a public street in the middle of the bleeding day.” He dragged his hand through his hair in a gesture she recognized, even now, as absolute frustration. “You’re too smart for this. You know there are people who love nothing more than to spread dirt about people like us. And you would accuse me—”
“I haven’t accused you.”
“Oh, aye, you have, of all manner of things.” Frustration turned on a dime to rage and insult. “And you do it without a word. I’d rather have the words as hard as they might be than that look on your face. It’s killing me. Let’s have this out then, once and for all, and be bloody well done with it.”
“No. No. I don’t want to be here right now.” Carefully, she picked up her jacket. “I don’t want to be with you right now. Because I can’t fight right now. I can’t think. I’ve got nothing. So you’ll win, if that’s what you need, because I’ve got nothing.”
“This isn’t about winning.” The utter misery on her face, in her voice, drowned the temper. “What I need is to know you believe me. That you trust me. That you know me.”
The tears were coming; she wouldn’t be able to hold them back much longer. She put on her jacket. “We’ll get into it later.”
“That one thing, Eve,” he said as she turned away. “Answer that one thing. Do you believe I’d betray you with her?”
She drew in what little she had and turned to face him. “No. No, I don’t believe you’d betray me with her. I don’t believe you’d cheat on me. But I’m afraid, and I’m sick in my heart that you might look at her, then at me. And regret.”
He took a step toward her. “Eve.”
“If you don’t let me go now, this will never be right.”
She made it out of the room, down the stairs. She heard Summerset say her name, and kept moving. Get out, was all she could think. Get away.
“You need your coat.” As she yanked at the door, Summerset draped it over her shoulders. “It’s very cold. Eve.” He spoke her given name quietly, and nearly shattered her last line of defense. “Will you let her use you both this way?”
“I don’t know. I—” Her communicator beeped. “Oh God, oh God.” She bore down. “Block video,” she ordered. “Dallas.”
Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve…
She shoved her arms into the sleeves of the coat as she was ordered to Sarah Child. She responded as she strode out to the car.
And she felt Roarke watching her from their bedroom window as she drove away to do the job.
Eve stood over the body of Reed Williams and blocked out everything but the work. She knew Eric Dawson—who’d found Williams floating and had jumped in to try to save him—was currently in the locker room with a uniform.
The med-techs who responded had fought to revive him, even after Dawson’s attempts, then Nurse Brennan’s, as CPR had failed.
So her crime scene and the body had been severely compromised. And Reed Williams was still very dead.
She crouched down, examined the bruise and shallow laceration along his jaw. Otherwise, from her exam, his body was unmarked. He was wearing black swim trunks, and a pair of blue-lens minigoggles floated in the pool.
As Peabody hadn’t yet arrived on scene, she turned the body herself to study the back, the legs, the shoulders.
“No visible trauma other than the jawline, some superficial scratches consistent with being pulled out of the pool on the back. No sign of struggle. She rose, began to walk around the pool. “No visible blood. Might’ve been blood, and it was washed away.” Frowning, she looked around for a weapon that might have caused the wound on the jaw.
“Vic stands near the pool. Somebody strikes out, vic falls back into the water. Lost consciousness and drowns? Maybe, maybe, but the bruise isn’t that severe. But maybe.”
She kept walking, and studied the edge of the pool. Walked back, hunkered down again, and used microgoggles and a penlight to get a better look at the wound. “Flat. More a scrape than a cut. In the water already maybe. Yeah, it’s the right angle, isn’t it? Vic’s taking his swim, gets to the wall, holds onto the edge for a minute. That’s what you do. Slips, loses his grip, knocks his chin on the skirting. But why? Just clumsiness? Didn’t strike me as a clumsy guy. And does that knock end up drowning him? Or did he have help?”
She went back to the body, shook her head. “There’s no skin under his nails. No sealant, no nothing. Clean as a damn whistle. What do you do if somebody holds your head under? You fight, you scratch. And if I’m standing on the skirt of the pool holding some guy under—for instance, a strong guy, a guy who works out regularly—I’m probably going to give his head a good thump against the wall for insurance. Easy to mistake a head knock for accidental.”
Frowning again, she began to search, to feel the back of Williams’s head. No bump, no laceration, no trauma.
Looked simple, looked easy. Looked accidental.
And she thought: No fucking way.
“Bag and tag him,” Eve ordered and straightened. “ME to determine. Priority request for Morris. I want the sweepers to go over the edging. I’m looking for blood or skin.”
She moved off, into the locker room where Dawson sat in a baggy sweatsuit drinking hot coffee. “Officer.” Eve nodded to the uniform. “Detective Peabody should be arriving momentarily. Direct her here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Dawson.”
“He was floating.” Dawson’s hands began to shake a little. “He was floating. I thought at first he was just…just floating, the way you do. Then I saw he wasn’t.”
“Mr. Dawson, I’m going to record this. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes.”
&nbs
p; “Mr. Williams was already in the pool when you came in to the area?”
“Yes, he was…” He drew a long breath, set the coffee cup aside. “Actually, I was looking for him. I’d seen Arnette—Principal Mosebly, and she asked if I would take Reed’s fourth-period class today—that’s my study period. She told me he’d been suspended and she was going to initiate termination proceedings, unless he resigned within the next twenty-four hours. I felt terrible about it.”
“You were friendly with Mr. Williams?”
“We all got along here. We were all friendly, there was never any trouble here. Until…Oh, God.” He dropped his head again, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I agreed to monitor the class, but asked if I could speak with him, to get some idea of his lesson plan. I don’t know.”
He braced his head, hair still damp, in his hand. “She said she assumed he was cleaning out his lockers. I glanced in the lounge, but he wasn’t there, so I went into the fitness center. His locker was still activated, but he wasn’t on the machines. I just stepped into the pool area, to see…”
“What did you see?”
“He was floating, facedown. At first, I…I thought—I maybe said, ‘Damn, Reed, this is a damn mess.’ He kept floating, and I realized…I jumped in. You’re supposed to grab a flotation, but I didn’t think. I just jumped, and I turned him over, towed him to the side. I got him out. I had to get out first, then haul him out. I did mouth-to-mouth, CPR. We’re all required to know how to do that. I don’t know how long, but he wasn’t breathing. I hit the intercom, called Carin—Nurse Brennan. I told her to call nine-one-one and to come to the pool.”
“Which she did.”
“Yes. She came right away. She tried, when she got here, she tried. Then the MTs tried. But they said he was gone.”
“Where are your shoes?”
“Shoes?” He looked down at his bare feet. “I forgot shoes. I had my work clothes on when I went into the pool. The police officer said it was all right for me to change. I forgot to put my skids on, I guess. Maybe if I’d gotten there sooner, just a minute or two sooner. If I hadn’t looked in the lounge first.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Dawson. I think you did all you could.”
“I hope I did. I nearly drowned once, when I was ten. My family always went to the Jersey shore in August. I went out too far, and I couldn’t get back. The waves just kept pushing me farther out, and I couldn’t stay up. My father pulled me back. He got to me and pulled me all the way back to shore. Blistered my ears for swimming out that far, then he cried. Just sat down and cried. I never forgot it, or how scared I was. It’s a scary way to die.”
“Yeah, but mostly they all are.”
She questioned him further, but if he’d been responsible for Williams’s death instead of traumatized by it, she’d eat her badge.
She released him, then accessed Williams’s locker for another search. One of his good suits, she noted, with shirt and tie, dress shoes. So he’d been planning to dude up for the day. Didn’t sound like resignation time to her.
Could have had another appointment, she mused. She searched through his toiletry bag, found nothing out of line. Then hauled out his briefcase as she heard the sturdy strides of Peabody’s winter boots.
“Williams is our DB,” Eve said without looking over. “Found floating facedown in the pool, past reviving. Bruised and scraped on the jaw, could be he got clocked, but it looks to me as if he rapped himself on the edge of the pool. Some scrapes on the back consistent with being pulled out. No other visible trauma.”
“So it looks accidental.”
“Looks like. Isn’t, or I’m a dancing monkey. We’ll want to go through this disc, but by the looks of his briefcase, it appears he was set to resume his teacherly duties today.” Now she looked over at Peabody. “Wit statement claims Williams was suspended, and termination proceedings were set to begin if he didn’t resign within twenty-four.”
“But he comes in, uses the school facilities.” Peabody poked her head into the locker. “And from all appearances was going to tough it out. Who’d he see this morning?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out, but my money’s on Mosebly.”
They tracked the principal down in her office, easily cutting through the admin who sat bleary-eyed and sniffling. Mosebly paced the room as she spoke on an earpiece. She held up a hand, signaling Eve and Peabody to wait.
“Yes, of course. I will. The police are here now. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve spoken with them.” Mosebly took off the earpiece, laid it on her desk. “The chairman of our board,” she said, and rubbed her fingertips between her eyebrows. “This is a very difficult time. If you’ll give me a moment, I need to arrange for classes to be dismissed for the day.”
“Nobody leaves,” Eve said flatly.
“I beg your pardon? We’ve had a second death. You can’t expect the students to—”
“Nobody leaves the building until I clear it. Nobody else comes in unless I clear it. What time did you speak with Mr. Williams this morning?”
“I’m sorry, my head is splitting.” She moved to her desk, opened a drawer, and took out a small enameled case. She removed what Eve recognized as a standard blocker. After pouring herself a glass of water, she sat down, took the pill.
It would help the headache, Eve thought, and also gave Mosebly a few moments to gather her wits and decide what she’d say and how she’d say it.
“I signed in at seven, or shortly after. To be frank, Craig Foster’s death has generated a great deal of concern among the parents, the board. I’ve held a number of conferences, and came in early today to catch up on other administrative duties.”
“Including preparing termination proceedings on Reed Williams.”
“Yes.” She pressed her lips together. “It seems cold now, but there was no choice. He’d been charged with possessing illegal substances, and is—or it appears he was—under heavy suspicion for Craig’s murder. He was obviously an unacceptable risk for our students. As I told him clearly yesterday when he returned to the school.”
“Yesterday? He came back here after his bail hearing?”
“Correct. I suggested, initially, he take some leave, but he was adamant about going on as if nothing had happened. Though most of the students had left by that time, I was worried about him causing a scene, so I asked him to speak with me in here. Privately.”
Mosebly brushed a hand over her hair, then tugged down the jacket of her suit. “It was unpleasant, I’ll be frank about that as well. I explained the need to avoid any more scandal. We’ve had three parents remove their children from the school and demand their tuition be returned. Once it became public that a teacher was arrested…”
She trailed off, shook her head.
“How’d he take it?” Eve asked.
“Poorly. It’s within my rights to suspend a teacher for suspicion of illegal or immoral behavior, but termination is trickier. He knew it. He stalked out claiming that between his lawyer and his union rep, he’d squash any attempt I—or the BOD—might make to have him fired.”
“Wouldn’t have gone down well with you.”
“No, it did not. It did not,” Mosebly repeated with some fire in her eyes. “While I believe we could and would have succeeded in the termination, it would have been an ugly mess. And would have resulted, no doubt, in the loss of more students.”
“And more revenue.”
“Yes. Without revenue, we can’t provide the education the students expect and deserve.”
“But he came in today regardless. Did you have words with him in the pool? You’ve been swimming this morning, Principal Mosebly.” She waited while Mosebly blinked. “Your towel, still damp, was in the locker room hamper. Women’s side. One towel.”
“As I’ve stated before, I often swim in the morning. I did see Reed, yes, as I was getting out of the pool. And yes, we had words. I told him I wanted him off the premises, and he informed me he was going to take a swim, then have
some coffee and a muffin before he began his classes.”
“Defying your authority,” Eve prompted.
“He was very smug and arrogant about it. I don’t deny we argued, or that I was very angry. And he was diving into the pool, very much alive, when I left. I showered, dressed, then came directly here to contact the chairman and relay the situation.”
“What time was that?”
“It would have been around eight when I got to my office and made the call. When I’d finished, I found Eric—Mr. Dawson, and asked him to monitor Reed’s fourth-period class today. I also spoke with Mirri and Dave, assigning each of them to one of Reed’s classes.”
She stopped, sighed. “A small scheduling nightmare. I had intended to wait for Reed to come out of the locker room, give him another chance to leave on his own. Then, as ordered by the board, I would call security and have him escorted out of the building. I didn’t know Nurse Brennan had made the nine-one-one call until the medical technicians were rushing in. I didn’t know…I had no idea what had happened.”
“You know the routine by now. I need the names of everyone who was in the building between seven and eight-thirty A.M. My partner and I will begin interviews.”
“But…but this was an accident.”
Eve smiled thinly. “That’s what you said about Foster.”
There was little variation as far as staff on premises, Eve noted. But it was very interesting to learn that Allika Straffo had signed in, with her daughter, at seven-thirty-two, and hadn’t signed out again until eight-twelve.
Her gauge had put Williams’s TOD at seven-fifty.
She mulled it over as she set up to interview Mirri Hallywell.
“I don’t know how much more we can take,” Mirri began. “This place, it’s like a tomb. Like it’s cursed. That sounds dramatic, but that’s how it feels to me.”
“Why were you here so early? I show you signing in at seven-fifteen.”
“Oh. Drama Club. We’re meeting before classes. In the theater. Discussion, a vid of some scenes from Our Town.”
“I’ll need a list of the students and staff present. Parents and guardians.”
