In the Shadow of Love (17 page)

She waited for Davis’ response but only dead silence hung in the air.

“Is anything wrong?” She pleaded.  “Davis?”

The line went dead.  Maggie punched in the code to call back the most recent number.  A busy signal greeted her.  With cell phones that could mean a number of things.  He’d call back.  He had to.  Where was Morris and, more importantly, why wasn’t he here with her when she needed him most!

“Ring, damn it, ring!”  She stared at the phone mentally willing it to do as she bid.  Picking up the portable she paged through the phone numbers listed on the display.  Caller ID.  She still wasn’t sure how to use it, but right now she was praising this marvelous invention.  Just as she was writing down the last number listed the phone rang.

It startled her so that she almost dropped the receiver.  Fumbling, she struggled to turn it over then pressed the talk button, forgetting all about the caller id and the wonderful invention that it was.

“Davis?”

“Maggie?”

“Morris!  I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.”  She sounded like a scolding mother.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, er no, I mean I’m not sure.”  And she wasn’t.

“Look, Maggie, I’ll be right over.”

“Don’t hang up.”  But it was too late.  The line went dead.  There was certainly a lot of that going on today.

Maggie wasn’t sure what to do next.  Her life didn’t seem to be her own anymore.  People coming in and out of it, following her when she didn’t want to be followed, pretending to be dead when they weren’t.  It was too much.  She wanted her life back the way it was just a few short days ago.

Pacing her kitchen floor, she nibbled on her thumb.  She had to think this through.  She was tired of feeling like a victim in her own home.  She had to do something - anything to feel back in control of her own life.  But what?  Oh sure, she could look at documents and tell you who wrote them and who didn’t.  She could even pinpoint the time period in which they were written based on a turn of a phrase.  But investigate a crime, especially a murder?  Well, that was a different matter all together, and quite a dangerous one.

Logically, she needed to talk to Owen.  Maybe confronting him wasn’t such a bad idea if it would get her to the bottom of this terrible mess.  But she still couldn’t go to his house.  Somebody might be following her and realize that he was still alive.

And what would she say? 
Hi I know Owen’s dead but I just want to go through a few of his things if you don’t mind.
  She hadn’t been to his house in more than three years and that was the last Christmas that his dear wife Helen was well enough to receive guests.

Owen had to be somewhere, but where?  She had to think of a place nobody would suspect – a place that Owen wouldn’t have told too many people about.

Just as Maggie was beginning to formulate her plan the sound of tires screeching pulled her attention towards the street in front of her house.  It was Morris.  Dashing from the car to the front door he looked determined to break his way in if necessary.  She opened the door just before he could muscle his way through it.  Startled by his behavior, she moved aside to let him in - actually run in as if he were about to tackle a football player.

He quickly pulled Maggie safely behind him then drew his weapon.

“What’s going on?”  She was horrified by the sight of his gun.

“I thought you were in danger.”  He was slightly out of breath.

“Why would you think that?”  Maggie was perplexed and still startled.

Morris steadied himself away from her and returned his weapon to its holster.  “Because you sounded afraid and frantic on the phone.”

“Oh.”  Maggie looked down at her feet.  She didn’t mean to upset and worry him.  They’d both had enough of that lately.  “But I tried to tell you not to hang up.”  She admonished him.  “Why did you hang up?”  She recalled the last time she was really afraid and frantic, he talked to her the whole time until he arrived.

“I didn’t.”  His response confused her.  “We were disconnected.”

Heading into the kitchen retrieved the portable phone and pressed the talk button.  The dial tone was loud enough for both to hear.

“It’s working just fine,” her frustration apparent.

Morris looked back at her in disbelief as she held the portable in her hand.  “Maybe it was the connection from my cell that went dead.”

“So, where were you all day.”  She didn’t mean to sound defensive but it was a question she had to ask.

“I went to Maryville to get some answers.  Didn’t you get my message?”

Maggie stared back at him with a blank look on her face.

“Well, I did leave one.”  His tone sounded almost indignant.

“Well I didn’t get it.”  She snapped back.  Sighing she let her arms drop to her side.  She didn’t want to fight with him.  She didn’t like this negative energy invading their relationship that was still so tenuous.  “Are you sure you dialed the right number?”  She was grasping for anything that made sense.

“Yes, and it was your voice on the greeting.”  His tone was sarcastic, something she’d never heard from him before.  Impatiently he walked over to her and took the portable from her hand.  Cradling the receiver with the number pad facing downward he paged through the phone numbers of callers that day.

“See, I called in the morning.”  He presented the evidence to her.

Maggie looked at the phone number listed and the time.  “But I didn’t – I mean the only message today was from Davis.”

She didn’t know what to think.  Except for a brief walk to get the mail, she was here all day.  “The shower.”

Morris looked confused.

“I was taking a shower when you called.”  But her explanation only led to more questions.  Why hadn’t her phone recorded the message?   Davis’ message recorded.   Making a mental note to follow up with the phone company she put the issue aside.

“Davis?”  Morris still looked perplexed and concerned.   “Are you sure Davis left a message?”

“Well, yes.  He said it was him and it sounded like him.”  Running her hand through her tussled hair was a sign that she was tired and frustrated.

“And he called back just a little while ago and I talked to him.”  She turned away and tried to recall the events of the day and their timing.  As days normally went for Maggie with two twin boys, the day was fairly uneventful.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but,” she paced further away from Morris and then turned abruptly, “maybe you’d better tell me what you think is going on.

He didn’t seem eager to talk just yet and to some extent Maggie wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he thought, but if they were going to get any resolution to the mysteries now surrounding their lives, she had to know.

“Just what did you discover in Maryville today?”  The question had to be asked.

“I think we’d better sit down.”  His tone was gentler now.

A shudder shot up her spine as she remembered the last time he said those words.  That turned out to be a horrible day.  Her gut told her this wouldn’t be much better.  Sitting across the kitchen table from each other, tension filed the air.

“Well?”

“It appears that Owen Cassidy was the last person to see the Strong family alive.”  His words hung in the air.

“Are you sure?”   She felt like someone just punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.  She didn’t want to believe that the Owen she knew was capable of what Morris was suggesting.

“A witness placed him at the scene.  The Maryville police interviewed Owen after the murders and confirmed that he was there the day before.”  His tone was matter of fact.

“That doesn’t mean that he had anything to do with their brutal deaths.”

“No it doesn’t.  However, it does make me wonder how much he knew about the murders before they happened–,”  he paused and she felt him gauge her reaction,  “–and just how far he was willing to go to keep Mr. Strong from testifying against him.”

“Now wait a minute.”  Maggie’s Irish blood began to boil.  “There’s absolutely no proof that Owen had anything to do with any criminal activity let alone those heinous murders.”

“True, but we can’t rule him out either.”

“You think he’s a suspect?”

“He’s certainly on the list.”

“I don’t believe this.”  Maggie shot up from her chair and paced frantically across the tiled floor as she tried to talk some sense into Morris.  “There’s no way that Owen had anything to do with those murders.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I am,” she paused to take a deep breath.  “Just like I knew he hadn’t committed suicide.”  Her eyes locked with his.  “I just knew.”

He shifted his weight in the chair and leaned further back, his arms now crossed over his chest.  “Okay, then, who do you think we should be looking at?”

 “I don’t know.  I’ve been reviewing those same documents all day and I just don’t know.”  She sat back down in the chair she had abandoned moments before then leaned forward resting her chin in her hands, elbows propped on the wooden surface of the table.  She felt helpless.

“I have something that might help.”  Morris left the house as quickly as he had arrived.  Returning with papers in hand, he placed them before a weary Maggie.

“Oh, just what I need.  More paper to look at!”  Exasperation laced her tone.  Taking a deep breath she pulled the papers closer and began to sort through their contents.

Some were photocopies, others looked like originals.  There were a range of memos, letters, and hand-written notes.

“Where did you get these?”

“I don’t want to tell you that yet.”  She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Why all the intrigue?”

“I don’t want to taint your assessment.”  He paused.  “It’s important, Maggie.  What you tell me about those documents could very well help us catch a murderer.”

He had her attention.  “Just what is it you want me to do with these?”  Holding up two fists full of papers she demanded to know at least that much.

“See if you can match any of the writing style and contents of these documents to the ones we’ve already isolated.”

An eerie feeling swept over her as the enormity of the situation sunk in.  A killer could have touched the very documents she was now holding.  Placing the papers before her, she hugged herself as a chill surged up her spine.

“Are you okay?”  As always, the concern in his voice touched her, warmed her, and made her feel less alone.

“Yes.”  Her voice cracked just a little.  “I just need a moment to clear my head.”  Standing up she walked across the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.  Steaming mug in hand, she leaned back against the counter and sighed.

“To think a killer is as close as the papers on my kitchen table–” she couldn’t go on.

In lightening speed Morris was by her side.  “I know, I know.”

Taking the mug from her hand he folded her into his arms.  As she rested her head against his chest the steady rhythm of his beating heart lulled her into a sense of serene comfort.  The strength of his hold soothed her in a way that nothing else could.  With every beat of his heart that pulsated next to her cheek she knew this was where she wanted to stay forever.

He would always be there for her.  She was certain of that but could she handle the uncertainty of his job?  Her own involvement in this case was too much for her to handle, but because she was involved and because Owen was missing, she had to see it through.  Could she handle worrying about Morris every time he went to work, wondering if he’d come back to her?

Her body tensed and Morris gently pushed her away from him.  “What’s the matter?”  He looked into her eyes, his gaze penetrating.  He knew she couldn’t lie, not to him, not to anybody.

Pulling away, she walked across the room and struggled to regain her composure.  She had to do that a lot with this man.  He had such an effect on her.  From across the room he watched her pace back and forth.

“I know!”  She stopped abruptly, her voice louder than she intended.   “We’ll ask the one person who knows.”

“Who’s that?”

“Owen.”  Maggie didn’t give Morris time to object.  “I have to get changed.”  The words were flung over her shoulder as she sped up the stairs.

Flinging clothes across the room, she hurriedly changed into something comfortable for a long trip in the car.

It wasn’t long before Maggie and Morris were in his car headed away from the city.  It was a gray day.  There had been too many gray days lately.  The last days of winter hung onto Chicago with a vengeance resisting the transition to spring.

“Just where are we going?”  He thought it prudent to know his destination so he could actually arrive there safely.

“To Wisconsin.”

“Wisconsin?”  It wasn’t that Morris was adverse to the state of Wisconsin it’s just that he’d like to know what he was getting himself into.  “Dare I ask what’s in Wisconsin?”

“A cabin.”  Morris waited patiently for more information but the only other sound besides silence was the purring of the car’s engine.

“And what or who is at this cabin?”  He hoped he didn’t have to drag the information out of Maggie one piece at a time.

“Owen.”  Looking straight ahead, she sat rigidly in the seat.  The further away they drove from Chicago the further Maggie seemed to withdraw from him.

“Okay, Maggie, you want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

She finally looked his way.  “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been distant with me for the past hour.”  He tried to keep his voice from becoming angry but he was definitely
feeling
angry.  “Did I do something wrong?”

As the car sped along the expressway, the silence stretched between them.  It was becoming painfully clear to her that she had let her emotions and sexual desire get in the way of her better judgment.  She had rushed into a relationship without giving thought to the consequences it would bring.

“No, I did something wrong.”

“How so?”

“I never should have gotten so involved with someone I just met.”

“I see.”  But his tone said he didn’t.

“It’s complicated.”