“I know you have.” Mike came back to the desk and sat down with a sigh. “The thing is, you’ve done everything, Harv. You’ve covered all the bases.” Mike sipped his coffee. His sympathy showed, but Harvey could see that he wouldn’t give in.
“Everyone at the office says he was a good father and husband,” Eddie said.
Harvey nodded. “I’ve looked for anything that would show otherwise, and it’s not there. No out-of-town business trips without his wife in the past year. No pretty women at the office who left the job recently. No beautiful client he spent time with.”
“The secretary—” Mike began.
“Is fifty,” Harvey finished. “Dunham’s thirty-five and happily married. He loves his kids, and he’s not the workaholic type who lets the family down. He was there for every birthday dinner.”
“We didn’t just talk to his coworkers,” Eddie agreed. “We questioned his friends, and even his in-laws. He was a good guy.”
“Was.” Harvey looked morosely into his coffee.
“Come on, Harv, we don’t know he’s dead.” Mike was trying to cheer him up, and Harvey smiled wryly. After so many years together, the captain was used to his melancholy temperament. Harvey couldn’t help it. If he wasn’t working at full steam, he was depressed. But it was his bleak personal life that got him down, not his job. He didn’t usually get caught up emotionally in his cases. That was one of several factors that made him a good detective; he could separate the job from his feelings.
“Why don’t we know he’s dead, Mike?” Harvey’s eyes locked the captain’s. “Because if he’s dead, we ought to know it by now.”
Mike sipped his coffee and said uneasily, “Remember that guy who jumped off the city pier last summer? Took us a while to find him.”
“Maybe Dunham’s living someplace under another name,” Eddie said.
“He loves his family,” Harvey reminded him.
“So, maybe he’s got amnesia.”
They all laughed.
“There are documented cases,” Eddie said stubbornly, but with a smile.
“Maybe,” Harvey conceded, “but you know that is so rare. And the diabetes thing. I still think, if he’s alive, that will lead us to him.”
“Put it aside,” Mike said. “It’s still open, and if anything at all comes in, you’ll be the first to know, but I’ve got an urgent case that I need you two to handle.”
Harvey made himself unclench his teeth. It wouldn’t do Nick Dunham any good to let this wear him down. But he still had a ray of hope—why, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was the girl. Jennifer Wainthrop, the one bright spot in this case. Something about her had touched him.
But the case was going inactive. His only connection to Jennifer was being all but severed, and that made him feel even more depressed.
He leaned back, defeated. “All right. What’s the new case?”
*****
Jennifer was tired. She’d worked steadily on the new program for weeks, and she still didn’t know what it was for. Channing kept her mostly on the security features, while John handled the body of the program. Tessa worked on sections that would mesh with hers and John’s when it was finished, and they were all sworn to secrecy. Jennifer’s convoluted creations would deter the most persistent hacker—at least she hoped they would. As to the rest of it, she hadn’t a clue what the system would do. She had a vague idea it might be military; either that or industrial. But a program for use in the public sector wouldn’t be this hush-hush, and even the one military-commissioned program she’d worked on hadn’t had security this tight.
It was wearing her down, and she went home every night exhausted.
That weekend she drove to her parents’ farmhouse in Skowhegan, two hours to the north. Time with her family lifted her spirits, but she faced Monday and the return to work with dread.
She and her sisters, Abby and Leeanne, stayed up late Saturday night. They watched National Velvet together for the umpteenth time, then lingered over hot chocolate, catching up on each other’s lives. Jennifer missed them terribly when she was in Portland and wished she could stay at home longer.
“It’s so dreary around the office since Nick Dunham vanished,” she confessed.
Abby popped a cheese curl into her mouth. “You need a social life.” She had graduated from nursing school the previous spring, and was working at a hospital in Waterville.
Jennifer smiled. “I suppose your coworkers have ideas about what constitutes a fun weekend.”
“Sure,” Abby said. “Get your friends together and have a party.”
“What friends?” Jennifer asked, more acidly than she’d intended. Abby winced, and she said quickly, “Sorry. I just haven’t had a chance to get to know many people outside the office.”
Abby stared at her. “Haven’t you dated anyone since you moved down there?”
“A few guys have asked me out, but I haven’t found someone I really like. There was this one double date with Jane, from work. She set it up, and we went to a Sea Dogs game. What a disaster. The guy I was with was kind of loud—not my type. And then he fell on Jane’s date.”
“Fell on him?” Leeanne fished a melting marshmallow from her cocoa with her spoon.
“A pop fly came into the stands, and he jumped for it and landed on Brent. We had to send him to the hospital for x-rays.”
It would take a very special man to tempt Jennifer to go out again. The ill-fated outing with Jane was her only date since her senior year of college, and she’d graciously turned the young man down when he called her with another invitation. The prospect of starting over, getting to know someone from scratch, and laying herself open to disappointment again was more formidable than her loneliness.
“What about your roommate?” asked Leeanne. She was in her sophomore year of college, and she took her studies seriously. “Don’t you do things together? She must know some guys.”
Jennifer sighed. “Donna-jean is impossible. I don’t think we’ll ever be friends. And the guys she hangs around with scare me.”
“Too bad.” Abby leaned back on Jennifer’s bed and punched up the pillow. Her hair, long and golden like Jennifer’s and their mother’s, splayed out on the white cotton pillowcase. “Isn’t she a hairdresser? You should let her give you a perm. That would help you get to know each other.”
“I don’t think I want to know Donna-jean that well,” Jennifer objected, “and I know I don’t want her messing with my hair.”
“Why don’t you just stay home with us?” Leeanne’s logic was innocently endearing, but Jennifer knew her days at home were over.
“It’s called earning a living. There are no computer jobs up here that pay as well, and I can’t mooch off Mom and Dad, after everything they’ve done for me.”
“I know you send Mom and Dad money,” Abby said.
Jennifer shrugged, but didn’t meet her eyes. “It was really hard for them last year, with you both in school. Jeff and I agreed we both had to get out on our own, and we tried to help. After all, Mom and Dad financed us through college for the most part.”
“As if Jeff helps much,” Abby muttered. “He’s barely making ends meet.”
“At least he’s supporting himself.” Jennifer empathized with Jeff’s career struggles. He’d ground through four years of college as an education major, then decided he hated it during his practice teaching stint. He’d moved home and pumped gas for a few months, then decided to apply for a vacancy on the fire department. He’d found his passion at last and gone on to take advanced EMT classes.
“Well, I appreciate what you and Jeff have done.” Leeanne turned to hug Jennifer. “But we miss you.”
“I miss you, too. If I could find a roommate half as great as you …” She shuddered, remembering Donna-jean’s raunchy rock music and the odor of smoke that permeated their tiny rental house, even though she had specified non-smokers when she advertised for a roommate. “I never should have taken Donna-jean on as a roommate. I wish she’d m
ove out.”
“Maybe I could get a job in Portland,” Abby said eagerly. “Then you could tell her that your sister was going to use her room, and she’d have to leave.”
Jennifer smiled. “Mom and Dad would have fits if another daughter defected to the big city. Besides, you haven’t been on your job all that long. Let’s get the school loans paid off, then we’ll think about the rest of our lives.”
Abby nodded ruefully. “Guess you’re right. It won’t be long before Travis is ready for college. I just get the feeling you have a grim existence down there. We could have so much fun together!”
Jennifer smiled. Abby was so outgoing, she would turn Jennifer’s placid life upside down if she had the chance.
“Aren’t there any eligible men at the office?” Abby asked.
“No, they’re all either married or total geeks. You have to have a certain personality to want to spend all day—” Jennifer broke off, staring at her sisters. “What am I saying? I’m a geek, too.”
“You are not,” Leeanne protested. “You’re sweet and fun and—and beautiful!”
Tears sprang into Jennifer’s eyes. She smiled at Leeanne.
“Isn’t there anyone?” Abby asked plaintively.
The quiet, efficient detective came to mind, but Jennifer pushed that thought away. He was too old. Probably married. She was sure he’d worn a wedding ring on the hand that held his notebook. And she would never see him again, anyway.
But if there ever was someone, she hoped he’d be like that—a man who knew his job and could command respect. And most of all, someone she could feel safe with. That was critical. She tried to picture his face. The bright blue eyes were easy; the rest was hazy, but she knew she’d recognize him again in an instant.
“Well?” Leeanne eyed her speculatively.
“No, there’s no one.”
*****
Harvey sank into his desk chair late Thursday afternoon, exhausted. He and Eddie had chased a pair of car thieves all week. A late vigil the night before had brought success, and they’d made the arrests. Today was a blur of interrogation, phone calls, paperwork, and conferences with the assistant district attorney. When his report was done, he could go home.
To what? It was almost better when the job kept him busy day and night. He opened a computer file and began the report.
He was nearly finished when Eddie called across the room, “You all set, Harv?”
“Five minutes.”
Eddie had driven that day and would drop him off at his apartment. The unit’s secretary headed for the stairway calling a general goodnight, and Mike was packing his briefcase. Harvey scowled at his monitor in concentration as his phone trilled. He quickly banged out the last few words and reached for it.
“Harvey? It’s Tim Lewis.”
The voice took him back a long, long time, and he sat immobile. Carrie’s brother wouldn’t call him without a compelling reason.
“Tim. What is it?”
“It’s Carrie.” He sounded strained, and a heavy feeling settled on Harvey’s chest.
“What’s happened?”
“She’s gone, Harvey.”
Heavier. He took a slow breath, trying to read a less final meaning into the simple words, but he couldn’t. “You mean, she’s dead?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, no.” Harvey slumped back in his chair. “When?”
“Yesterday morning. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Yes. Thanks, Tim.” He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them quickly. The images of Carrie were too vivid. “What happened?”
“They’re saying an overdose.”
Harvey tried to process the idea. Even in college, when she was at her wildest, Carrie had veered away from drugs. She’d maintained she was too smart for that. Alcohol, maybe; not drugs.
“An overdose of what?”
“Sleeping pills. There was a note.”
“You mean it was deliberate?”
“I guess so.”
Harvey’s thoughts churned out of control. At least it wasn’t illicit drugs. But suicide! She’d been unhappy much of the time he knew her, but she dealt with it in her own way. When she was angry, she threw things. When she was depressed, she went out and partied. And when she was bored, she opted for a change of scene and company.
He sighed. “Tim, I don’t know what to say. Why did she do it?”
“She was despondent. Worse than usual, I mean. You knew she got married last year?”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Well, she did. He walked out on her last month.”
Harvey felt as if a big chunk of his life had been stolen. He’d held out against a divorce, but after he’d been alone three long, empty years, Carrie had filed anyway. The papers had come in an innocuous white envelope with the return address of a lawyer’s office in Lexington. Still, he hadn’t been able to bury the hope for reconciliation. Someday she would get her life together and come back. Wouldn’t she? He believed it was possible, and had tried to live accordingly. She’d been gone ten years, but he still considered himself married.
Now he realized that, for Carrie, reconciliation had never been a possibility. She had said as much, loudly and often, but he’d managed to cling to a shred of hope.
It hit home now. He’d been ostracized from the Lewis family so completely that she had been married for a year, and no one had breathed a word. True, her family was two hours away, near Boston, but it seemed odd that he hadn’t heard. You would think some mutual friend would have spilled it to him. Of course, that was assuming they had any mutual friends. Carrie’s friends were too snobbish for Harvey, and she had openly despised his police buddies.
For now, Harvey wouldn’t allow himself to think about her being married to someone else, but he felt a vague ache that began somewhere near his heart. Their marriage may have been a mistake, but it still mattered.
And he’d been part of the family once. Not the best-liked member of the family, perhaps. He grimaced as he remembered his mother-in-law’s bitter words the last time he had seen her. It wouldn’t surprise him if she’d cut him out of all the wedding pictures and whited out his name from the genealogy charts that were so dear to her. But he and Tim had a good rapport at one time, and Carrie’s feisty grandmother had a soft spot for him. Still, no one had called him or dropped him a line when the woman he’d pledged his life to had made such a momentous decision. It took her dying to make someone say, Hey, shouldn’t somebody call Harvey?
“Tim, I’m sorry. I know you loved your sister. When is the funeral?”
“Tomorrow. We should have called you sooner, Harvey. It’s been rough. Mother is distraught.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Harvey hesitated. “What did the note say, if I may ask?”
“That she couldn’t take it that he’d left her. And that she didn’t want to cause us pain, but she couldn’t go on anymore. It was kind of rambling.”
A lot of things went through Harvey’s mind, dominated by images from suicides he’d responded to as a patrolman. At last he said, “Tim, this doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it?”
“I don’t think so. She didn’t mention you in the note. She would never tell us what happened between you two.”
Harvey took a deep breath. Too late to plead his case now, but something inside him wanted Tim not to hate him. “It wasn’t my choice—the divorce.”
“I kind of figured that. But you two went eight years, and no kids. I thought maybe that had something to do with it.”
“That was part of it.” Memories gushed in. Carrie’s audacious pursuit of him, a social nobody, in college. Her parents’ disdain. Their grudging consent to the marriage. The wedding in a splendid Gothic chapel none of them had ever set foot in before.
Their wedding vows had seemed so full of promise. He had meant every word, and at the time he’d been sure Carrie did, too. Then came Carrie’s hurt incredulity and the Lewises’ anger when he’d announced that he
was leaving law school in favor of the police academy; Carrie’s discontent and gradual alienation; sharp words and long, lonely nights. Better not to get into any of that with her brother.
“How’s your father doing?”
“Taking it stoically,” Tim said.
“How about you? Are you okay?”
“No, not really, but my wife is great.”
“Your wife?” Harvey was startled. “How long have you been married?”
“Four years. We have a little boy.”
“That’s great, Tim. I’m glad for you.”
“Thanks. You never—you’re not married, are you, Harvey?”
“No. I’ll be down tomorrow for the service. Hang in there.”
He sat for a few minutes without moving, waiting for the weight to lift. It didn’t. Eddie came in from the break room whistling, his jacket slung over his shoulder.
“Where’s Mike?” Harvey asked.
“Locker room.”
Harvey got up and walked the length of the office, sorting his thoughts as he went. His brain was adapting to the change in his life, putting new data into compartments where he could retrieve it later and reprocess it.
“Mike, I need tomorrow off.”
“What’s up?” Mike was taking his suit jacket off and hanging it in his locker.
“Carrie’s … passed away.”
Mike turned quickly. “Harvey, I’m sorry. What happened?”
“Sleeping pills.”
“Oh, Harv. Of course you can go. When is the service?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Boston?” Mike asked.
“Yeah.”
Mike had known Carrie during Harvey’s marriage, and that he wasn’t on good terms with her family. He also knew Harvey was a loner and didn’t like to be fussed over.
“Do you need someone to go with you?”
“I’ll be okay.”
Mike nodded. “Is there anything Sharon and I can do?”
“No. Thanks. I’ll see you Monday.” Harvey quit trying to fight the fatigue and let his shoulders slump as he left the locker room.
Chapter 3
Pete and Arnie were gone, and Eddie was sitting on the corner of his desk.
The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1) Page 3
