When I pulled into a parking space some ten minutes later, I was wrestling with a different question.
Why did I think Connor Lawton was murdered?
Lawton had a volatile, even violent, temperament, but he hadn’t appeared to be a manic depressive in my brief acquaintance with him. I didn’t see him as the suicidal type. Even if he was wrestling with the play and unhappy with the way it was developing, he wouldn’t end his life over it. Lawton was a fighter; I was convinced of that.
His death could have been an accident. I considered that possibility again as I walked from the parking lot toward the front door of the sheriff’s department. Alcohol poisoning? There was that bottle of bourbon near his body.
Even as these thoughts entered my mind, I had a nasty feeling that Lawton’s death was definitely murder.
Inside the sheriff’s department, the fluorescent lighting and chilly air brought me out of my reverie. I spoke to the officer at the front desk and explained why I was there. He nodded and pointed to a small waiting area. He said he’d make sure the chief deputy knew I was there.
I was at the water cooler, gulping down my third paper cup of water when Sean arrived. He strode over, the heels of his cowboy boots thudding against the scuffed linoleum. The officer at the desk glanced up, frowned, and went back to whatever he was doing.
Sean squeezed my shoulder. “How are you doing, Dad?”
“I’ve had better days.” I crumpled the paper cup and dropped it in the wastebasket next to the cooler. “But it’s Laura I’m worried about. Let’s go sit down and talk.”
Sean followed me to the waiting area, and we selected seats in the corner, as far from the front desk as possible.
In an undertone I told Sean the one thing I hadn’t shared with him during the phone call—Laura’s strange action with the thumb drive.
Sean’s expression turned grim when I finished. “If that turns out to be a crime scene, and they find out Laura removed that device, she could face some serious charges.”
FIFTEEN
Laura’s face was so drawn and pale that I didn’t have the heart to question her once we were alone in the car. My concern for her well-being was paramount. I didn’t understand her relationship with Connor Lawton. She insisted they were no longer romantically involved and even seemed to dislike him, yet she had gone out of her way this afternoon to help him. My late wife and I had reared our children to be loyal to their friends and family, but I had seen little evidence that Lawton deserved such loyalty.
After Laura moved to Hollywood to pursue her dream, she visited infrequently, particularly after her mother died. When she did come to visit, she seemed different in some small ways, the natural effect of her experiences in California. But I had little doubt that at heart she was still my Laura. A verse from Proverbs ran through my head: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” We instilled in both our children a strong sense of responsibility for their actions, and though they might occasionally make a small misstep, I knew they were good people. Laura as a child, however, had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, sometimes taking on more than she should in an effort to help another person. Perhaps this was the case with Connor Lawton.
If so, I felt Laura had made an error in judgment. She should not have removed that thumb drive from Lawton’s apartment—and surely she must have, or why slip it into my pocket so furtively?
She and I were due for a heart-to-heart the moment she seemed up to it. By the time we reached home it was a few minutes past eight. My head ached and my stomach grumbled—I needed some caffeine and food, and Laura needed some sustenance as well. Sean pulled his car into the garage shortly after Laura and I entered the kitchen. When he joined us I was putting a chicken, rice, and mushroom casserole in the oven to warm. Stewart had left it in the fridge for us, bless him. Laura sipped a diet soda and stared vacantly at the surface of the table. Diesel, who had greeted us at the door, kept wrapping himself around my legs and complaining with loud chirps and meows over having been left behind.
After a glance at his sister, Sean asked, “What can I do?”
“There are some green beans in a pot in the fridge. Can you put them on to warm? I need to give Diesel some attention before he knocks me over.” As Sean moved to comply with my request, I pulled a chair out from the table and sat. Diesel moved between my legs and placed his front paws in my lap. I held his head in both hands and rubbed under his chin with both thumbs. I murmured to him, telling him I was sorry I had to leave him behind, but that Laura had needed me. His purr rumbled as he gazed into my eyes.
Then, to my surprise, he pulled away and padded over to Laura’s chair. She was oblivious to his presence, still focused blankly on the table, but he butted his head against her side to get her attention. Jostled out of her reverie, she set her soda down and turned in her chair. Diesel put his front paws in her lap and stretched his head up toward her face. With a sob, Laura bent and wrapped her arms around his upper body and held him close. Diesel meowed, as if in sympathy.
Sean, stirring the pot of beans at the stove, let go of the spoon and took a tentative step toward his sister. I motioned for him to stop and shook my head. For the moment I figured Diesel, with his sensitivity to humans in distress, might be able to comfort Laura better than either her father or her brother could. Our turns would come.
Sean and I remained silent for the next several minutes while Laura hung on to Diesel and quietly cried. When the oven timer buzzed, Laura lifted a tearstained face and released Diesel. The cat sat back on his hind legs and watched her as she plucked several tissues from the box Sean held out to her. She wiped her face, blew her nose, and crumpled the tissues into a ball.
I went to her and gathered her into my arms when she stood. She rested her head on my shoulder for a moment before pulling away. “I’m okay, Dad,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“Why don’t you go wash your face, sweetheart, and then we’ll eat.”
She started to protest that she wasn’t hungry, but I asked her when she had eaten last.
“Lunchtime.” Laura smiled briefly. “Yeah, I probably should have something.” She kissed my cheek. “Back in a few.”
“I’m worried about her, Dad,” Sean said the moment Laura was out of the room, Diesel right on her heels. “I think maybe she was still in love with that jerk, and if his death turns out to be something besides suicide or an accident, she could look like the prime suspect.”
“I know, son. That concerns me, too.” My head throbbed to remind me that I had yet to drink anything caffeinated. I pulled a can of diet soda from the fridge and popped the top. I gulped some down, and moments later the throbbing began to ease. “Let’s give her a little time to recover some equilibrium, and then I plan on having a long talk with her about Lawton and all that’s happened.”
When Laura and Diesel returned, Sean and I had dished out the casserole and the green beans. Laura sat at her place and picked up her fork. She stared at the plate for a moment, as if willing herself to eat, then ate some of the casserole. Sean and I watched her furtively as we too began to eat. Laura’s face had regained some color, and as she ate she looked less worn.
Diesel came to sit by my chair and stare up at me, doing his best to look like a cat that hadn’t eaten in several days. I fed him three green beans, then shook my head when he meowed for more. He resumed staring, and I went back to my meal, trying to resist that mute appeal.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Laura put her fork down. She regarded her brother and me, a hint of defiance in her eyes. “I know you both probably think I’m crazy, but I don’t want to talk about it tonight.” She paused. “I promise I’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for tonight I just want to be left alone. Please?”
Sean frowned and appeared about to speak, but I forestalled him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you’re worn out. It’s been a horrible day for you, and you need some time to rest. But we have to
talk. There are some serious issues to discuss, and we can’t duck them for long.”
“Yes, sir.” Laura smiled briefly before she resumed eating.
I looked across the table at my grown-up daughter, but suddenly all I could see was a little girl, vulnerable and confused. I wanted to pick her up and hold her, tell her that I would make everything better. But then I saw the adult Laura again and knew instinctively that she wouldn’t welcome my assurances, at least not tonight.
We finished the meal without further conversation. Laura had a faraway look as she picked at her food, and I could only imagine her thoughts. When Sean and I were done, Sean stood and took our plates to the sink. Laura set her fork down and gazed at me.
“I’m going up to bed. I’m really tired.” She came around the table to me and held out her hand. “May I have the thumb drive back for now, Dad?”
I hesitated before I stood to pull it out of my pocket. I clasped it in my hand and regarded my daughter. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and make her think I didn’t trust her, but I was concerned about the contents of the device and what Laura planned to do with it.
She knew me only too well. “I promise you I’m not going to do anything to the contents. I won’t delete or change anything. We’ll look at it together tomorrow and then decide what to do with it.” She gazed into my eyes without wavering.
I had to trust my daughter, I decided, and her reasons for having taken the drive from Lawton’s apartment. We would catch hell from Kanesha Berry, I knew, but we would face that when the time came.
I dropped the drive into Laura’s hand. Her fingers closed around it, and she gave me a sweet smile and a swift peck on the cheek. “Good night.” With that she turned and left the kitchen.
Diesel chirped, and I looked down at him. “Go ahead,” I told him, and he trotted off after Laura.
Sean had cleared the table already and was putting the dishes into the dishwasher. I thanked him.
He looked troubled. “I have this feeling that something nasty is going to happen because Laura took that drive, Dad. For the life of me I can’t figure out why she’d do such a thing. Surely she knows better.”
“I think we simply have to trust her, son. I’m not happy about the situation either, but she must have a compelling reason to have done it.”
“I guess so.” Sean shook his head. “The whole thing’s one unpleasant mess, that’s for sure. I wonder what the Theater Department is going to do without their star playwright?”
“They might try to find a replacement,” I said. Then I had an uneasy thought. “I wonder if anyone has informed Ralph Johnston about this.”
“Would the sheriff’s department know to?”
“They might,” I said as I thought about it. “Surely in her questioning of Laura, Kanesha would have asked her what she knew about Lawton’s next of kin. Johnston was his employer, so to speak.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it then.” Sean squeezed my shoulder. “You’ve got enough to think about without dealing with that.”
I definitely didn’t feel like I had the energy tonight to talk to Ralph Johnston. He would probably go into hysterics, and I didn’t have the patience to cope with that. Kanesha would have notified the college. She was very thorough.
“I think I’ll head upstairs then.”
“I’m going to relax for a while on the back porch,” Sean said. That meant he was going out to smoke a cigar—his way of relaxing.
I bade him good night, then trudged upstairs to my room. After changing into my pajamas, I read for a while, keeping an eye out for Diesel. By the time I turned out the light he hadn’t come, but I left the door ajar in case he returned during the night.
Restless thoughts kept me awake for a good hour or more but eventually I drifted off to sleep. At some point I was dimly aware that Diesel was on the bed with me, and then I drifted off again. I awoke the next morning feeling logy, but I couldn’t loll in bed. There was much to do today.
Laura hadn’t appeared for breakfast by the time I was ready to leave for work. I was eager to talk to her, but I didn’t want to disturb her. She needed rest, and my questions could wait a while longer. Perhaps by lunchtime she would be ready to talk.
Diesel and I arrived at the archive a few minutes early, and we had a quiet morning. Melba didn’t appear for her usual visit, but I remembered that she was taking the day off. Just as well, because I didn’t feel up to answering questions about the events of yesterday.
At nine my cell phone rang. Sean’s number came up on the screen. I barely had time to say, “Hello,” before he launched into frantic speech. “Laura’s gone, Dad, and she must have left the house before you and I had breakfast. I just tried her cell phone, but she didn’t answer.”
My heart thudded in my chest. Where was my daughter?
And, more important, was she safe?
SIXTEEN
I suddenly felt cold all over. I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths. “Maybe she’s here on campus in her office.” That thought comforted me. “She’s probably so focused on whatever she’s doing that she’s ignoring the cell phone.”
“Maybe.” Sean didn’t sound convinced.
“I’m going over there right now, and I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” I paused for a breath. “You keep calling her cell.”
“Will do.”
I stuffed my phone in my pocket and reached for Diesel’s harness and leash. “Come on, boy. We’ve got to check on Laura.”
Diesel, perhaps attuned to my urgent tone, leapt down from his perch in the window and stood patiently while I buckled on his harness in record time. Once I attached the leash, he darted around the desk, and I had to hurry to keep up with him.
I paused only long enough to lock the office door. Then we scooted down the stairs and out the back door of the building. I jogged as quickly as I could, and Diesel kept pace with me. The walk to the building that housed the Theater Department normally took under ten minutes. This morning I probably made it in four.
I tried to keep my thoughts focused on the positive, but doubt kept niggling at me. Laura had to be all right. She had to.
We pounded up the walk to the fine arts building. Like many on our campus it dated from the mid- to late nineteenth century, its once-red brick weathered to a rosy pink, offset by white windows and doors. I jerked one of the double doors open. I was thankful no one was in my way, because I probably would have barreled over anyone who impeded my progress.
Too impatient for the elevator, I ran to the stairs, and Diesel scampered up ahead of me. My heart thudded in my chest, and the sweat dripped down my face, but I pressed on. I prayed I wouldn’t collapse before I found my daughter safe and sound.
Laura’s office lay at the end of the hall, away from the stairs. I ran down the empty hall. Diesel was still slightly ahead of me. How he knew where we were going, I had no clue, but he was straining at the leash, trying to pull free.
I let him go, and he beat me to Laura’s door by a full five seconds.
When I reached the door, I had to pause to catch my breath. I couldn’t speak because I was gulping in air. Diesel meowed loudly and scratched at the door, which was slightly ajar. His weight forced it open, and my heart almost failed me when I caught my first glimpse of the interior. Books and papers lay scattered about.
I stepped into the doorway and, still struggling to breathe freely, croaked out my daughter’s name. A phone began to ring, and I recognized the ringtone as Laura’s. I took another step inside. To my right, perhaps two feet away, was a wall covered with overloaded bookshelves. To my left was a desk, and my heart almost stopped when I saw a woman kneeling over a body on the floor between the desk and another wall of bookshelves behind it.
Diesel disappeared around the edge of the desk, but I heard him chirping and meowing in distress. The sight of my daughter’s body on the floor terrified me so that I couldn’t speak. Then I could see Diesel, licking Laura’s face. The woman started and s
at back on her heels.
“What are you doing?” I finally found my voice, and my legs worked again. I strode around the side of the desk and grasped the strange woman’s shoulder. She turned her head to look up at me, her expression mirroring the fear of my own.
“I’m trying to help her,” she said. She struggled to loosen my hand from her shoulder. “Who the hell are you?”
“Her father,” I said, pushing her none too gently out of the way. I dropped to my knees on the worn carpet beside Laura. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was regular. She looked like she was sleeping. I grasped her hands in mine. They were cold. I started rubbing them, trying to warm them.
“Laura, honey, can you hear me?” While I spoke to her, Diesel kept licking her face. I didn’t try to stop him, because I thought any kind of sensory stimulation was good.
Laura’s phone started ringing again, and I could sense the woman hovering behind me. “We need to call 911.”
“I’m doing it now.” I glanced back, and the woman had the office phone in her hand and was punching in numbers.
For the moment I ignored Laura’s still-ringing phone, though I knew Sean was probably even more worried by now. I’d call him as soon as I could.
Laura moaned, a low sound that tore at my heart. She blinked several times, then her eyes opened and tried to focus on me. Diesel stopped licking her face but kept talking to her, as I called it.
“My head,” Laura whispered. Her face contorted in a grimace of pain. “Hurts. What happened?”
“I don’t know, honey,” I said. “We’ve called 911, and they’re on the way. You lie still.”
Laura frowned. “Where am I?”
“In your office.” I stroked her hands, still trying to warm them up. Diesel moved to stand beside me, his eyes intent on Laura’s face.
She blinked, then a tremulous smile flashed briefly. “Sweet kitty,” she whispered.
“They’re on the way,” the woman announced behind me.
File M for Murder Page 10
