They stopped at McDonald’s for supper. Eddie told funny stories about his French grandmother, who always called him Édouard and expected him to come at least once a month for a tête-à-tête and bring her bonbons. He said “les bonbons,” the French way, and Jennifer laughed hysterically. Harvey smiled a sad little smile, and she decided she and Eddie were acting like children.
Eddie said, “Hey, Jennifer, I was saying to Harvey that we ought to have a double date sometime.”
“That might be fun.” She looked at Harvey.
“Sure, Eddie. We’ll let you know.” He sounded tired.
Back in the Explorer, he pulled out onto the highway and watched to make sure Eddie got out behind him. He reached over in silence for Jennifer’s hand. Her heart lurched, and she curled her fingers around his. When they got back to her house, Eddie drove on past it and honked his horn. Harvey went around and opened the door of the Explorer for her, then took her up the steps and unlocked the house door.
“So, Saturday night?”
His blue eyes glittered in the dusk, and again Jennifer had the feeling he was struggling with insecurity.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He smiled then. “Me, too. I hope tonight wasn’t too boring.”
“No. I think …” She looked up at him, wondering how honest they could be at this point. “I think we need time like this.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Just normal time together.”
“Yes.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood looking out toward the street. “It’s been a long time since I did this. Spent normal time with anyone, I mean.”
Jennifer swallowed. She wanted to be the normal part of his life, but it still felt scary, as if a huge, unknown risk lay ahead. If she allowed herself to care deeply for him, how badly would she be disappointed later?
Harvey was staring at the Explorer.
“So, you like the car.”
He laughed. “Don’t let Eddie hear you call it a car. But, yes, I like it.”
“Would you …” She took a deep breath and began again. “I’ve been working on a program that might interest you. It’s early, and I thought …”
He watched her, smiling but silent, and Jennifer could see he wasn’t going to give her any help.
“It’s just a simple flagging program, but it might help you at work. I mean, if it doesn’t duplicate something you already have at the police department. I made something similar for a …” She stopped, willing herself to stop babbling. Harvey’s expression was unreadable, and her hopes plummeted. He would think she was too aggressive. She ought to have waited until the program was perfect and their feelings for each other were defined.
“You mean you designed a computer program just for me?”
“Well … yeah. Other people could use it, but I meant it for you. If you want it. To help you …” She was doing it again. She stopped.
His smile turned into a huge grin. “I’d love to see it.”
Jennifer exhaled in relief. “Then, would you mind coming in for a minute? It’s …” She gestured vaguely toward the door.
“I didn’t think you’d bring the computer out here.”
“Right.” She turned hastily to open the door.
*****
Harvey followed Jennifer into the little house and stood just inside the door. Her nerves were so bad he could almost hear them jangle. She crossed the living room quickly and turned on her computer. He walked slowly toward her, looking around. Bright, cheerful drapes and throw pillows, family photos, and a poster-sized Van Gogh reproduction over the computer desk. The room was as big as his living room, but had twice as much furniture. A bookcase, a rocking chair, crocheted afghans, a TV set and stereo. It smelled like roses, but he didn’t see the bouquet he’d sent her. It must be in another room.
She turned part way and looked at him over her shoulder. “I really don’t know much about police work, so maybe I’ve oversimplified things. Please don’t laugh if it’s not something you can use.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay. I could install this on the computer you use at work, to flag items you want to stay updated on. Say there’s someone you’ve put in jail. You flag his name, and when he has a parole hearing, or is released, or—or—escapes, or anything, you would get an update.”
Harvey chuckled involuntarily.
She winced.
“Sorry. I know I promised not to laugh, but if he escaped, I think they’d tell me.”
“Right. Well, you know what I mean. If something was added to his record—”
He nodded. “For instance, if the patrol sergeant downstairs made a notation in his file?”
“Precisely!” Her gratitude was evident, and he smiled.
“It sounds useful.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yeah, it sounds great.”
“Does your department download records from a network regularly?”
“Yes, they’ve tried to get all the state, county, and municipal records standardized, and we get updates every day, but it’s a chore to wade through them.”
“Well, this would take away the headache and save you a lot of time. It would show an icon on your screen after each download, if any of the items you’d flagged had new input. Sort of like telling you that you have e-mail.”
Her earnestness stirred him, and he wanted to reassure her. “Okay, take this man we arrested today, for example. If he makes bail or has a probable cause hearing, the computer will alert me?”
“That’s the idea. And if he got a traffic ticket in Fort Kent a month from now, it would tell you. Look, it’s easy.” She guided him rapidly through the steps of entering data into her program, and he was deeply impressed, both with her professionalism and the capabilities of the software. The confidence she’d shown at their first lunch date was back, and he liked it.
He moved closer and put his hand lightly on the back of her chair, peering at the monitor. “You worked all this out yourself in a couple of days?”
She flushed and kept her eyes on the screen. “Well, a couple of months back, after you first came to the office, I started thinking about how the police keep track of things. I heard somewhere that a lot of old records aren’t computerized yet.”
“That’s true.”
“So I started thinking about how to make it easier, and I came up with this.”
“Do you have it copyrighted or anything?”
“Not yet, but I will once it’s finished. I’ve put my icon in it for security.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a little group of characters in the program for no reason, except it’s like a signature, or a copyright notice. So I can tell it’s my work.”
“Like an artist signing a painting?”
“Sort of. If someone copies the program, they’ll copy that, too. No one will recognize it unless I tell them what it is.”
“I usually get updates directly on my open cases from other officers within the department, but I can see this being really useful on older cases.”
“Over time, I think it would help you a lot. If you keep updating what you need and the cases you want to follow, that is.”
He nodded. “So, when can I test the program?”
“I’d have to install it on your computer, after I work out the details. If the department would let me, that is. I’m sure they’re picky about who changes the programs on their computers.”
“Yes, but I’m sort of high up in the chain of computer-approval people. It would only affect my computer, not the whole network, right?”
“Absolutely.”
He nodded. “Could you come to the police station after work one evening and do that?”
“Sure. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
“I’ll mention it to my captain. I think he’ll be impressed.”
She swiveled the chair around and looked directly at him. They were very close. Her eyes widened i
n surprise, and she pushed the chair back a couple of inches on its wheels. “So, would you like something to drink?”
It was almost a squeak, and Harvey smiled, stepping back to avoid making her more nervous. “Sure, what have you got?”
“Coffee, milk, iced tea…”
“Iced tea is fine.”
She went to the kitchen. Harvey’s eyes strayed to the family photos displayed on top of the television. He picked up a framed photograph of six smiling youngsters. The Wainthrop siblings, he assumed. Jennifer, in a Skowhegan Indians sweatshirt, had her arm around one of her sisters, and was grinning widely. Four blonds, two brunettes. They all seemed to have perfect teeth. He wondered how many of them had needed braces, and how George Wainthrop had paid for it.
He was putting the frame back when Jennifer appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her face was pale, and she was holding a white, plastic-wrapped bundle.
Chapter 9
Harvey stared at the bundle, his heart sinking. He’d seen packages like that all too often. “Where did you get that?”
“In the freezer. I was getting the ice cubes, and it was in there, between the broccoli and a box of ice cream.”
“Just great.” He took it from her by the edges and held the packet up to the lamp.
“What is it?” Her voice quavered.
“Probably heroine.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
He carefully undid a strip of tape and examined the powder more closely. His first instinct was right. “Donna-jean’s, I take it,” he said.
“It’s got to be hers, unless her boyfriend or somebody…”
“Well, she must know about it.” He tried not to let his anger show, but Donna-jean would have to face his wrath for putting Jennifer in this situation.
“Is she in trouble?” Jennifer asked in a small voice.
“Of course. We’ve got to make sure you’re not.”
Her eyes were huge, and she swallowed hard.
Harvey touched the sleeve of her sweater lightly. “Sit down, Jenny. Let me explain something to you.”
She sat on the very edge of the sofa, staring up at him. He sat next to her, placed the plastic bundle on the coffee table, and reached for her hands. “If for some reason the cops searched this house, you and Donna-jean could both be arrested. You both live here.”
“But I didn’t know anything about it.”
“I realize that. But it’s her word against yours, and your prints are on it now.”
She looked sick. “You’re not serious?”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just trying to make you see that if you continue to live with that woman, you could end up in serious trouble, through no fault of your own. Who holds the lease?”
“I do.”
“We’ve got to get her out of here.”
“I don’t know how to make her go.” Jennifer sank back, defeated. “Maybe I should just move out and leave her the house. I don’t want to live with her anymore, that’s for sure.”
“Jenny, I know confrontation is hard, but she’s the one who’s broken the law. Why should you be punished?”
Tears filled her eyes, and he sighed.
“You had the house first, right?”
She nodded.
“Do I have your permission to search the place?”
“You can do that?” Her tear-filled eyes were hopeful.
“As long as you say I can. I can’t search her bedroom, but I can search yours and all the common areas.”
“Go ahead.”
He squeezed her hands. “Relax. It’s going to be okay.”
He knew she couldn’t relax. She stood and watched, arms folded tightly, as he methodically searched the living room. The bathroom was next, with no results. When he stepped into Jennifer’s bedroom, her anxiety seemed to peak.
“You don’t expect to find anything in here, do you?”
“Not really, but you never know. The nightmare roommate might plant something.”
She stood in the doorway, her hands nervously rubbing the sleeves of her sweater. Harvey felt a little self-conscious as he lifted the edge of the mattress and shook the pillows out of shams that matched her blue quilt. When he got to the dresser, he asked her if she would take a look in the drawers and underneath them, to see if there was anything she didn’t recognize. She seemed relieved to do that herself while he checked the closet, the night stand, the bookshelf, and under the bed.
He didn’t find anything in Jennifer’s room, the living room, bathroom or kitchen. He carried the trash can into the driveway and emptied it onto newspapers, and by flashlight found some marijuana butts in the leavings of an ashtray. He put them into a sandwich bag, in case for some reason he needed to check the DNA.
“It’s nearly nine o’clock,” he observed. “When will she be home?”
“Hard to say, but she has to work tomorrow. She ought to be in soon.”
“This druggie holds a job?”
“Yes, she’s a hair stylist.”
“Don’t ever let her get her claws on your hair.”
She laughed. “Believe me, I don’t.”
“Did you tell her what I do for a living?”
Jennifer’s eyes widened. “No, I don’t think I did. Are you going to arrest her?”
He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I think I have to. I’m sorry.”
She gulped. “You couldn’t just threaten her and tell her she has to move out?”
It was tempting, but he knew he couldn’t do it. “Jenny, this amount of drugs is a major violation. There’s at least eight ounces here, probably more. That implies that she’s furnishing. I can’t let her go. If anyone found out I knew about it and didn’t do anything, it would mean my badge.”
Jennifer drew a deep breath. “So, what do we do?”
“I think I’ll call for an on-duty unit to come and get her. You might feel better if I’m not the one who makes the arrest.”
She nodded, on the verge of tears again.
He took out his cell phone and called the station. Jennifer leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed, listening. He knew the night sergeant.
“Brad, this is Harvey Larson. I’ve got a situation where a female friend of mine has found her roommate’s heroine stash. Can you send a unit out here to pick the roommate up when she gets home? I’m off duty, and I’d really prefer someone else handle this.”
“What’s your 20?”
He gave Jennifer’s address and told Brad he would wait until the officers arrived. “You might want to get a warrant for her bedroom,” he added. “I’ve searched the rest of the house.”
“On the way,” said Brad.
“I’ll stay until it’s over,” Harvey told Jennifer when he had hung up.
“You’re tired.”
“This is important.”
She turned and went into the kitchen, and he followed, standing in the doorway, unsure of where her volatile emotions were taking her. The yellow roses filled a vase on the small table, and the fragrance was much stronger in here. She opened a cabinet and took down two glasses.
He stepped to the counter and leaned on it, watching her closely as she took the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and poured it. “This is for the best.”
“I know,” she said.
He wished he dared to put his arms around her, but she maintained an aloofness. The trust factor between them was still fragile, and the drugs seemed to test it to the breaking point.
“They’ll be here soon.”
Jennifer put one glass in his hand. “Let’s sit in there.”
He followed her back to the living room and sat beside her on the couch, on her left. That way his gun was on the side away from her and nearer the front door. He hoped the other officers would arrive before Donna-jean did, but he was prepared if they didn’t. His badge was in his pocket. The open plaid shirt he wore over his dark T-shirt hid his shoulder holster.
He sipped his tea and set th
e glass down. She was avoiding his look. That hurt. He wondered if she would end up hating the way he earned his living, like Carrie had. When she flicked a glance his way, he said softly, “Jenny, please don’t hold this against me.”
“I won’t.” She bit her bottom lip.
“You don’t want to live with a drug user. For a lot of reasons.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right.” After a moment she said, “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. You like the new computer program?”
“It’s fantastic. Really. I think it will save me a lot of time and help me do my job better.”
She nodded. “Good. That’s what I wanted.”
But you don’t want me to do this part of my job, he thought. It hung unspoken between them.
Lights flashed on the ceiling. Apprehension crossed Jennifer’s face, and she went to the window and peeked out under the bottom of the shade. “There’s a car out there.”
“Is it the unit?”
“No, it’s Donna-jean.”
“Oh, boy. Is she alone?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Just be casual. Let her get all the way in and close the door. Then ask her about the drugs.” Harvey moved to the chair at the computer desk. He wished the patrolmen had arrived, for Jennifer’s sake. A key turned in the lock.
Jennifer stood near the sofa.
“Hi, Jennifer.” Donna-jean’s eyes were heavily lined and shadowed. “Whose SUV outside?” Her eyes flicked over to Harvey, then back to Jennifer. “Oh, hi. I thought maybe you had a new boyfriend.”
“No, but I want to talk to you about something.” Jennifer pointed to the plastic package on the coffee table. “I found this in the freezer. Is it yours?”
Donna-jean’s eyes narrowed and her lips went pouty. “Well, I do have kitchen privileges, don’t I?”
Jennifer straightened her spine. “Yes, but I don’t want your drugs in my kitchen, or anywhere in my house.” Harvey was proud of her, but he sat still, saying nothing. Donna-jean was the type who would incriminate herself, given the opportunity. He’d seen it before.
“It’s not your house.”
The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1) Page 11
