by Joanne Fluke
Jean looked anxious, and Jill nodded. “You’re right. They sound perfect for each other.”
“Then you’ll give him her number?” Jill nodded again, and Jean scribbled a telephone number on a business card. “Her work number’s on the front of the card, and I wrote her home phone on the back. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we were the ones to get them together?”
“Yes, I guess it would.”
Jill tucked the card in the outside pocket of her purse, but she was frowning as Jean went off to rejoin her husband. She didn’t like playing matchmaker. It was pushy and almost rude to assume that they could pick out the right woman for Doug. They would be meddling in his private life. He might resent it. And if she gave Doug the card, she might very well lose the best friend she had!
There was a wastebasket by the instructor’s desk. Jill’s fingers went to the card. She had half a notion to drop it in the trash and never mention it to Doug. He’d never know. His chances of running into Jean or Fred again were very slight. She could do it now, while no one was looking, and pretend that Jean had never given it to her.
“Jill?” There was a hand on her arm, and Jill whirled around guiltily. It was Doug. He looked grim and sorry and horribly upset.
“What’s wrong?” Jill’s heart started to pound, and she leaned close so the others couldn’t hear her. Doug looked very strange, as if he were fighting back tears. “Is it the serial killer?”
He nodded and took her arm, guiding her to the door. “We have to leave.”
“Of course. You have to go to the crime scene.” Jill hurried down the hallway with him, and they went out the main door. It wasn’t raining any longer; it had turned into a beautiful night. “I’ll go with you, Doug. I really don’t mind, and maybe I can help. When you get enough extra officers on the scene, someone can drive me home.”
“No, Jill. You can’t come with me.”
Doug’s voice was shaking, and Jill stopped at the edge of the curb to stare at him. “What’s the matter? Did you get in trouble for taking me to the last crime scene?”
“No, Jill. That’s not it.”
His voice was soft, and his arms were trembling as he stepped close to hug her. He held her for a long moment, and Jill began to feel very uneasy. Doug seemed to be trying to comfort her, and she wasn’t sure why.
“Jill, honey . . . let’s go to the car.” Doug hugged her once more, then took her arm. “I’m afraid there’s something I have to tell you.”
* * *
She didn’t utter a word on the drive home, and Doug glanced at her anxiously in the lights from the dashboard. She was staring straight ahead, lost in a place her shocked mind had provided, a refuge without pain or tears or awareness. Doug was silent, too. He didn’t want to disturb her, to remind her of the present and the horrible event that had happened. It was best to let her escape for as long as she could so she might gather her strength for the ordeal ahead.
Doug’s mind was racing as he drove silently to her house. Would Jill turn to him, now that Neil was dead? Or was it wrong to even hope that might happen, at least this soon after her husband’s murder? He toyed with these questions all the way to her house, and when he pulled into the driveway, he’d made up his mind. Jill would need time to get over her loss. It would be unfair to press her or try to influence her when she was this vulnerable. He’d be her good friend, nothing more, until she came to him . . . if she did.
“Jill? We’re here.” He spoke very softly so he wouldn’t startle her.
“Yes. Thank you, Doug.” Jill blinked, and she seemed to become aware of her surroundings. Then she looked frightened. “Do you have to leave right away?”
“No. I won’t go until someone comes to stay with you. Don’t worry, Jill. I won’t leave you alone.”
When Doug took Jill’s keys and started to unlock the door, someone opened it from the inside. She was an attractive young woman with glasses and dark blond hair, and Jill rushed straight into her arms. Doug knew immediately it was Connie, but he was puzzled because she looked familiar. He had the feeling he’d seen her somewhere before, though perhaps that was because Jill had described her so accurately.
“Jill!” Connie looked completely baffled. “What’s wrong?”
“He . . . He . . . Oh, it’s awful!”
Connie turned to him, puzzled, and Doug began to explain. “I’m Doug Lake. We just got word that Jill’s husband is dead.”
“Oh, my God!” Connie was clearly shocked, but she recovered quickly and then became just as efficient as Jill had told him she was. “Thank you for bringing her home. Would you help me get her to the couch?”
It didn’t take long to get Jill settled with a pillow and a blanket. Connie murmured comforting words while she stroked her forehead. When Jill seemed to fall into a light sleep, Connie stood up and led Doug over to a chair on the opposite side of the room. “Tell me what happened. Was it a traffic accident?”
Doug explained as quickly as he could, and when he’d finished, Connie shook her head.
“I just can’t believe it. He was such a vital person, and now he’s . . . gone. Poor Jill! I’m so glad you were with her, Detective Lake.”
“It’s Doug. And I’m glad I was with her, too. Do you think she’ll be all right?”
“I’ll make sure she is.” Connie looked very determined.
“I’ll call her doctor and ask him to come out. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her. Jill’s like . . . well . . . she’s like the big sister I never had.”
“I know she thinks a lot of you.” Doug stood up and shook Connie’s hand. “I have to go now. They called me in, and they’re waiting for me.”
Doug was at the door when Jill called out his name.
“Yes, Jill.” He turned to look at her. Although her face was pale and drawn, she was very beautiful.
“I know you have to leave.” Jill’s voice was trembling. “When are you coming back?”
“I’ll be here in the morning. Try to sleep. It’ll help.”
As he drove to the crime scene, Doug’s heart was beating fast. Jill needed him. That much was very clear. Even though Connie was there to take care of her, she had wanted to know when he was coming back.
CHAPTER 33
The voices seemed to come from a long distance away, but Jill heard them clearly. Doug and Connie. And they were talking about her.
Her doctor said she’s fine so far, but there’s always the chance this could bring on premature labor. If she can get through the next twelve hours, she’ll be all right.
There was a pause and then another voice spoke, a deeper voice . . . Doug’s. I’m really glad you were home, Connie. I had to get to the crime scene, and I couldn’t have left her here all alone.
“Why couldn’t I be alone?” Jill tried to speak the words, but no sound came from her lips. She opened her eyes and saw the sun streaming across the ceiling of the living room. What was she doing in the living room? And why were Connie and Doug talking so softly?
She turned her head slightly and saw Connie and Doug, seated in the swivel rockers her mother and father had used to watch television. But why was she on the couch, covered with a blanked? Had she fallen? Was she ill? What was going on?
Suddenly Jill remembered, and she drew in her breath sharply. Neil had been murdered outside his office building. Her husband, the man who’d married her and fathered her baby, was dead. She’d never see Neil again.
Jill swallowed hard and turned her face toward the back of the couch. Neil’s couch. She’d never liked it, but he’d insisted it was perfect for the living room. Now the green and tan tweed material seemed to admonish her. They’d fought bitterly over the couch until she’d finally caved in and agreed that they could buy it. There were gold flecks in the tweed. She’d never noticed them before. They were like the gold flecks in Neil’s eyes, and Jill stared at them for a moment. Shouldn’t she be crying? Or screaming? Or exhibiting some powerful emotion? Her husband had just been brutally murder
ed, yet she was staring at the couch with perfectly dry eyes.
Last night, when Neil had left in the taxi, she hadn’t even said good-bye. She should have kissed him and told him that she loved him before he left. That’s what a good wife would have done. And she had loved him once, even though it was no longer true. It would have cost her nothing to send him off with a kiss, but she hadn’t. Now it was too late.
Guilt, bitter and strong, washed over Jill in a powerful wave. Was honesty really that important? Wouldn’t it have been better if she’d played the role of an adoring wife? Things certainly had been much easier between them after they’d hired Connie. And Neil had been trying. He’d been so considerate, he’d even moved across the hall so she could have the whole bed.
Jill sighed. Her husband was dead, someone should tell his family. Connie didn’t know them, and the call should come from her. His brother and sister-in-law had to be notified. Someone had to tell his friends. And his students. They should know what had happened. His colleagues in the department—they should know, too.
Thank God for Connie! Jill gave a sigh of relief. Connie knew Neil’s students and the other members of the department. She’d send her to the college today, to deliver the sad news.
There would have to be a funeral. It was up to her to arrange for that. And a memorial service on campus. Norma could plan the campus service. She’d want to do it, and everyone needed some type of closure to lessen their grief.
But Jill wasn’t grieving. Her forehead furrowed in a frown. Why wasn’t she grieving when her husband was dead? What kind of monster was she?
Perhaps it just hadn’t sunk in yet. When it did, she’d start to grieve. Or perhaps it was because she’d come so close to divorcing Neil, once when she’d first found him in bed with Lisa and again right after Christmas party.
She’d have to pretend at the funeral. Everyone would expect her to be devastated. Neil’s pregnant wife would have to cry or everyone would think she hadn’t cared.
Was that true? Jill thought about it for a moment. Then she shook her head slightly. She had cared. She’d wanted the best for Neil and the baby. That’s why she’d stayed with him and tried so hard to make their marriage work. She’d desperately wanted her baby to have a father.
The thought of the fatherless child in her womb made tears well up in Jill’s eyes. That was better. She could cry for the baby who’d never know a father, though she had trouble crying for Neil. No one would know the difference. All they’d notice were her tears.
Poor Neil. She hoped he hadn’t suffered. It was a terrible tragedy for the whole campus, a professor struck down in the prime of life, right outside his office.
“But what was Neil doing at his office?” Jill didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until they turned to her. She sat up to face them and repeated her question again. “Why was Neil at his office?”
Connie jumped up and rushed over to soothe her. “It’s all right, Jill. I know everything’s confusing, but just try to relax. Maybe it’s better if you don’t think about it.”
“But I have to think about it!” Jill declared. “That’s what I was trained to do. And I know Neil wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near his office last night.”
“Are you sure?”
Doug pulled out his notepad, and Jill released a sigh of relief. At least someone was taking her seriously. “I’m sure, Doug. His meeting was at the administration building, and that’s on the East Campus. Neil’s office is across the bridge on the West Campus.”
Connie perched on the arm of the sofa and put her arm around Jill’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, Jill. He probably went back to his office after the meeting was over.”
“But how did he get there? He went to the campus by taxi. I know because I called for the cab. Neil wouldn’t walk across the bridge in the dark. His eyesight isn’t . . .” Jill stopped and took a deep breath. She had to remember to use the past tense. “His eyesight wasn’t that good. And if somebody gave him a ride, they may have seen something.”
Doug nodded. “Good point. I’ll ask the other people who were at the meeting.”
“Norma Jenkins was probably there. She has an office in Neil’s building.” Jill turned to Connie. “There’s a faculty telephone book on the shelf in the library. Would you please get it and give it to Doug?”
Connie nodded. “Of course. But, Jill . . . you should be resting. I don’t want you to get upset. It’s not good for the baby.”
“I’m not upset.” Jill reached out to give Connie a hug. “But you’ve got to understand. It helps me to think about catching Neil’s killer. I want to be a part of the investigation. It’s less painful for me that way.”
Connie still looked concerned, but she nodded. “Whatever you think is best, Jill. I don’t understand, but that’s okay. My only concern is for you and the baby.”
“I think I understand.” Doug waited until Connie had gone to get the telephone book, then he smiled at Jill. “If you can think about something logically, it makes it less personal. Less personal is less painful. Right?”
“Exactly!”
“You said Neil took a cab. Do you know which cab company came?”
“Yes. It was CityWide. I saw it when it drove up—number seventy-three. The driver was an older woman, heavyset with dark hair.”
“Good.” Doug wrote it all down. “What time was that?”
“Seven thirty-six. I was in the bedroom, getting dressed for my baby class. I glanced at the clock when the cab pulled up, and I remember thinking Neil would just make it in time for the meeting.”
“His meeting was scheduled for eight?” Jill nodded and Doug wrote that down. “You’re sure it was being held at the Administration Building?”
“Positive. It was a budget meeting, and they’re always held in the board room.”
Doug glanced down at his notebook. “What was Neil wearing when he left the house?”
“A white shirt with a button-down collar, a dark gray tie, and his gray blazer. And jeans. Neil always wore jeans. He said poets and writers shouldn’t dress in suits. It made them too conventional.”
Doug nodded. “How about a watch? Or jewelry?”
“No jewelry. Neil said it was too ostentatious. But he did wear a Rolex. He bought it right after he got his first royalty check.” Jill frowned slightly. “I told him it was an invitation to a mugging, but he insisted on wearing it. It’s not missing, is it?”
“No. It’s with his personal effects. I’ll get those to you in a couple of days. His wallet’s there, too, with forty-three dollars inside. How many credit cards did he usually carry?”
Jill thought for a moment, then answered, “Two. American Express and Visa. And a Triple-A card.”
“Then nothing’s missing.”
“You thought there would be?” Jill raised her eyebrows.
“Not really, but it rules out a mugging.”
Jill looked surprised. “I thought you said it was another serial killing?”
“That’s what we think. We won’t know for sure until the lab results come in.”
“When is the autopsy?”
Connie came back just in time to hear Jill’s question. “Jill! You’re not going to . . . I mean . . . You wouldn’t actually—”
“Of course she wouldn’t.” Doug shook his head. “I know this sounds strange, Connie, but these are actually routine questions.”
Connie drew a shaky breath before turning to Jill. “Okay, if you say so. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, dear.” Jill reached out for her hand. “Just tell me if this is asking too much of you—I know you’re upset, too—but do you think you could drive to the college and tell Neil’s students what’s happened?”
Connie nodded. “Of course. I know most of them and they might take it better if they hear it from me. But how about you, Jill? I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine. I have to call Neil’s brother, and I’d better notify hi
s publisher in New York. Then there’s the obit for the paper and the arrangements for his funeral. There’s plenty to do. I’d better get started right . . .”
Jill’s voice trailed off as a rush of hot tears filled her eyes. And then she was sobbing, crying like a baby as she realized that Neil was actually dead.
Time must have passed, but Jill wasn’t aware of it. She was so cold, as cold as the morgue where they’d taken her husband. There was a buzzing in her ears, like the sound of the chainsaw her father had used to cut up the dead tree in the backyard. The chain saw massacre. Bloody. Horrible. But Neil had been killed with a knife. Why were they being so ridiculously strict about gun legislation? Knives were every bit as lethal, and you could buy them in any store. There was no waiting period, no registration, and for all they knew the serial killer had probably ordered it from a catalog and had it delivered to her house!
Someone was screaming, a high thin noise that sounded like a kitten in distress. Was it her? Then there was a sting in her arm and her doctor’s face appeared, pale and bobbing like a balloon on a string, going in and out of focus.
She was warm again, covered with a blanket, as a blessed numbness took control of her mind. But she could still hear the voices, three of them this time.
I gave her a mild sedative. She’ll sleep for at least four hours. How about the baby? So far, so good. Keep your eye on her. She tried to say no, she didn’t need an eye. What she needed was a husband, alive and warm, holding her tenderly because he loved her. Only her. No one else. And then there was a light kiss on her forehead, lips brushing her softly like a butterfly’s wing. I’ve got to go, Jill. They just paged me. But I’ll be back tonight.
In this unreal place, events seemed to mark the time as minutes marked the face of a clock. There was the sound of a door opening, and she heard what sounded like Norma’s voice. I’m so glad you called, Connie. I’ll sit with her until you get back.
The doctor says she’ll be all right, but here’s his number. He can be here in less than ten minutes if she needs him.
And then there was nothing, just the lingering memory of Doug’s warm lips on her forehead. It made her feel warm and loved. He would be back tonight. He’d promised. And the one thing Jill had learned about Doug Lake was that he always kept his promises.
