River Road (19 page)

“Nan!” Ross's voice was desperate. “Where are you? The police are here to bring me in for questioning. I need to know—”

He was cut off by a man's voice that sounded like Detective Haight's saying they needed to leave now. Then the call ended. I looked at the
time. The call had been made forty minutes ago. McAffrey certainly hadn't wasted any time. He must have gone straight from Cressida's to Ross's house. They would be at the station now, sitting in the interview room with the water-stained yellow paint while McAffrey tossed the evidence bag with Ross's cuff link on the table between them.

The cuff link
.

Suddenly I recalled where I'd seen it last. In Ross's kitchen. When I burst in Leia had spilled wine on his shirt cuff. He'd unbuttoned it—no, he always wore shirts with cuff links—he'd taken off the cuff link and dropped it into the dish by the sink. The dish with the car keys—

Where anyone who scooped up the keys might take it too.

Which meant that whoever had taken Ross's car and run over Leia could have dropped the cuff link at the boathouse as well.

I realized it was a frail clue. Even if Ross hadn't left the cuff link at the boathouse, it didn't mean he wasn't having an affair with Leia. Leia had gone to Cressida feeling guilty about something—but then, Troy had said that Leia played a role for each new place she moved to and put on a different face for each new person she met. Guilt-ridden mistress might have been the one she was trying out on Cressida.

Or maybe I just didn't want to believe that the Ross I knew would sleep with one of his students.

But it didn't matter what I believed. I had to tell McAffrey that I'd seen Ross taking off his cuff link in the kitchen. And that someone had murdered my cat. I reached for the card he'd given me and started to call . . . but of course he wouldn't answer. He was interviewing Ross. I had to go down to the station to talk to him.

Only I didn't have a car.

But I knew who would come get me.

*  *  *

While I was waiting for Dottie I listened to Anat's voice mail telling me that the police had found deer hair on my car and that they appeared to
have a new suspect. “It looks like you're in the clear but you should still lay low. Don't talk to the police without me.”

I hit Call Back but got her voice mail. I hesitated, not wanting to tell her I was about to do exactly what she'd told me not to—talk to the police without her and give evidence that might exonerate the police's new suspect. I hesitated so long that the phone beeped signaling the end of my message option and then I heard Dottie's car at the foot of my driveway. I hurried out to meet her before she tried going up and got stuck.

“I'm sorry for bothering you on Christmas night,” I said, getting into her car.

“I'm glad you called. I've been worrying about you all day. I know how much you care about your students, Nan. You'd never have left Leia to die on the road. I'm sure the police will figure that out eventually.”

“They have,” I told her. “Only now they think it was Ross.”

Dottie gasped, but then remained silent, gripping the steering wheel, her eyes fixed to the road, as I explained about the traces of Leia's jacket on Ross's car and the cuff link in the boathouse. I didn't tell her about Oolong because I knew how much she loved cats and I thought her sympathy might undo me. When we got to the police station she turned to me, her eyes gleaming in the dark car. “It can't be Ross.”

“I don't want to believe it either—”

“No, it
can't
be him. Are you sure he hasn't offered the police an alibi?”

“No,” I said, “but what alibi would he give? He said you were the last one to leave the house. And, by the way, you can't tell anyone that he's being questioned. I shouldn't have told you any of this.”

“I'd never—” she began, shaking her head so that her tight curls bristled. I interrupted her.

“It's just that . . . I know how much you like having the inside information.”

Dottie started at this. “Are you calling me a gossip?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“No—”

“Because I know that's what people think, but no one has any idea how many things I have to keep to myself. All day long my desk faces that row of offices. I
see
things. People think I don't notice, but I do! People treat me like I'm invisible, but I thought you were different. I thought we were friends.” Her voice ended on a sob.

“Dottie,” I began, shocked and appalled that I had managed to hurt Dottie's feelings. But she was right. I had treated her like she was invisible. I had taken her friendship for granted. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to suggest that you were a gossip. I'm the one who should have kept my mouth shut. I should have realized how much it would upset you to hear about Ross. I shouldn't have called you.”

“No,” she said, her voice hoarse but firm. “I'm glad you did. Only”—she looked away from me and gripped the steering wheel—“I think I'll stay here in the car while you go in. I don't think I could face anyone right now.”

“Of course, if you're sure you'll be all right.”

“Don't worry about me. You just tell the police what you saw. I'm sure they'll see that it wasn't Ross.”

“Okay.” I squeezed her shoulder. She still didn't look at me. Perhaps it was because she didn't want me to see her crying. Or maybe she was angry that I'd called her a gossip, and now I'd lost one of the last friends I had at Acheron.

The first person I saw in the waiting room was Kelsey Manning double-thumb typing on her phone.

“Professor Lewis, are you here to give evidence against Professor Ballantine? Is it true he was having an affair with Leia Dawson?”

“Where did you hear that?” I demanded.

“I can't divest my sources,” she said smugly.

“
Divulge
,” I corrected automatically. “The word you're looking for is
divulge
.”

She blinked at me rapidly and licked her glossy lips. “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, it's what everyone is saying. Everyone knows Leia was his special pet and she got all sorts of special treatment from him. He
practically drooled over every little thing she said in the Brit Lit class I was in with her. Were you, like, jealous, because he broke up with you and was going out with a younger woman?”

I stared at her, unable to think of a reply that she wouldn't somehow misquote; then I looked over her shoulder and spoke to the clerk at the reception desk. “Can you please tell Sergeant McAffrey that Nan Lewis is here to see him—and that he's got a news leak here in his station tweeting confidential information.”

“I'm not tweeting,” Kelsey said, holding up her phone. I could make out a post that read
Professor Ross Ballantine taken in for questioning!
“I'm posting to ‘Overheard at Acheron.' That's freedom of the press.”

“That's interfering with an ongoing investigation.”

Sergeant McAffrey was standing in the hallway glaring at Kelsey's phone as if he wanted to snatch it out of her hands. I'd often felt the same when I caught my students texting or playing Candy Crush Saga in class. He took a deep breath and in a firm, controlled voice asked Kelsey to leave.

“This is a public space—”

“You're interfering with an investigation.” His voice had dropped two octaves. I could feel it rumbling in my stomach. Kelsey fidgeted with her hair and teared up. I almost felt sorry for her.

“Okay, but I'm putting
this
in my story as an example of police brutality!” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a defensive gesture that reminded me of how Oolong would nonchalantly lick herself after falling. I felt my lip trembling at the thought of poor Oolong's frozen body. McAffrey, mouth open to say something to Kelsey, must have seen my eyes filling. He grabbed my elbow and steered me away from Kelsey.

“That girl's a menace,” he muttered when we were out of earshot. “But you shouldn't let her get to you.”

“It's not her,” I said, and then to my horror and dismay I broke into loud, mucousy sobs. Looking as embarrassed as I felt, he steered me into the nearest room.

It was a different interview room, a cozier space with cushioned
chairs, a coffee machine, and potted plants. This must be where they took traumatized witnesses—the innocent—or at least the ones crying over their dead cats. McAffrey pulled out a chair for me and offered me a cup of coffee. I shook my head but he fixed one anyway. I realized he was giving me time to get myself under control, so I endeavored to do so. By the time he came back to the table with two mugs I wasn't sobbing anymore. I took a sip of the coffee and was surprised at how good it tasted. Even the coffee was better in this interview room.

“Okay,” he said, sitting down next to me instead of on the other side of the table. “Tell me what happened.”

I told him about finding Oolong on the porch and finding the purple thread on her collar.

“You probably own one of those sweatshirts yourself.”

I admitted I did. “Do you think I left her out in the cold to die?”

He looked surprised. “Why would I think that? Did you?”

“I don't think so! I remember tossing her back in the house before I left.”

“And did you lock the door?”

“Yes, but the back door is flimsy.”

He looked like he was about to give me a lecture on home security but stopped himself. “I don't think your cat died because you left her outside. She would have gone to your barn and burrowed down to keep warm. It looks more like someone sending you a message.”

“A message?”

“Yeah, like the things left on Leia's shrine.”

“But Hannah left those,” I began, suddenly remembering the way Hannah had shook her head when I held up the Four Roses bottle.

“Maybe,” he said, “but Hannah's lying unconscious in the hospital now and someone's still messing with you. It could be a crazy vigilante from town. Someone killed Hannah's cat after . . .” His voice trailed off.

“After Emmy? I didn't know that. Shit, Hannah's cat. I meant to go by and feed it.”

“I got someone from the shelter to do that,” he said. “So is that why you came in? To tell me about the cat?”

“Yes . . . and something else.” I told him about Ross taking the cuff link off and putting it in the dish with the keys. “So you see, whoever took the keys could have taken the cuff link too.”

“And dropped it in the boathouse after running Leia over?”

“Maybe they went to the boathouse first,” I said. “They could have parked in the turnaround on Orchard Drive and hiked to the boathouse. I've seen kids do that. And then they—whoever was with Leia—had a fight. Leia ran back to the road and started walking home on River Road and the driver followed her and ran her down.”

For a moment the scene felt so real I could feel the snow falling, hear the crunch of Leia's boots on the snow . . . if only I could see the face behind the wheel. McAffrey might have been reliving the moment too. He was watching me as if waiting for me to reveal that last detail, the face behind the windshield.

“You're close to Professor Ballantine, aren't you?”

“Ross? Yes, I suppose. He's the chair of my department—”

“He could reverse your tenure decision.”

“That's not what this—”

“And you had an affair with him?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Didn't you know that it was trending on ‘Overheard at Acheron'?”

“It was a long time ago,” I said. “It was the summer after Emmy. I wasn't thinking very clearly back then.”

“Neither was he, apparently. I doubt that sleeping with a new hire is professional protocol at your college. And taking advantage of a recently bereaved one is just plain questionable.”

The anger in his voice surprised me. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't directed at me. “It wasn't like that,” I said. “I was an adult. I knew what I was doing.”

“You know, I audited one of your classes that year.”

“You did?” Was he changing the subject to keep me unbalanced? If so, it was working. My head was spinning. “I don't remember . . .”

“I sat in the back. You gave these really organized lectures—I still remember one on
Jane Eyre
—but it was like listening to a recording. You weren't
there
.”

“That's awful,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “I try to relate to my students.”

“I know. I've read your student evaluations.”

“You what—?”

He smiled. “Dorothy Cooper supplied them to show me what a fine person you are. They all say the same thing—Professor Lewis really cares about her students. But that year after your daughter died, anyone with eyes in their head could tell you were sleepwalking. Anyone who would take advantage of that . . .” He shook his head, his jaw clenched.

He didn't need to finish his sentence.
Would sleep with a student and run her off the road and leave her for dead.
I hadn't helped Ross by coming here; I'd made things worse for him. I could think of only one more thing to say.

“I'm the person who stands to benefit the most if Ross Ballantine is guilty. Don't you think it says something that
I
don't think he did it?”

McAffrey stared at me for a moment and then answered. “Yes. But I think it says more about
you
than it does about Ross Ballantine.”

I was still puzzling that out when someone knocked at the door. Detective Haight stuck his head in and jerked his chin without saying anything. McAffrey nodded. “Be right there.” Then he turned back to me. “Go home, Ms. Lewis. Get some sleep. Be relieved that you're no longer a suspect. I know I am.”