Stalking Death (15 page)

"Shondra?" he asked, as though he didn't see where she fit into this.

Come on mister, start thinking, anticipating what may happen. Protect your students and put out fires before they blow up in your face. You had enough sense to call me. Now keep on using it.
"Yes, Shondra. Jamison's sister. The person who's going to be most upset by this. Is there someone on the staff who has a good relationship with her?"

"Mrs. Leverett's her housemother."

I supposed it was progress. Last time I asked, he hadn't known. But it was still the wrong answer. "I said
good
relationship, Craig, someone sympathetic. What about her coach?"

"Jenna?" he said. "Oh, she's good. I'll give her a call."

"Do that right away, too. Please. If she doesn't already know, I don't want her getting the news about Alasdair and her brother from anyone but a caring adult. Okay, you've got your list. Start making calls. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I hesitated, but I had to say it. "Craig? You've got to get Todd Chambers out of his room, suited up, and acting like a headmaster. I don't know how you'll do it, but you have to do it. Maybe Argenti can help with that. Now, what about the boy's family? Have they been called?"

His sigh almost blew me across the room, and I was a hundred miles away. "Out of the country. We can't reach them."

"The grandfather, too?"

"This is really not my job." Dunham sighed again.

Whether he liked it or not, for now, it was. I hadn't cared for him. He'd been complacent and slipshod. Still, I didn't envy the position he was in and I appreciated the way he was stepping up. It was Chambers' behavior that was deplorable. "You've got to make that call, you know, and you can't put it off. You don't want the family learning it from a reporter or a news source."

"But I don't know what to... "

Make something up, dammit. "Dead in a campus accident, regrettable circumstances, still under investigation," I suggested. "Can he come at once and does he know how to reach the parents?"

"Accident?" he murmured.

"As far as you know, pending police investigation. It could turn out that MacGregor was stinking drunk and fell in the fire and Jones was trying to rescue him. Despite having been arrested, Jamison Jones is innocent until proven guilty. If you're uncomfortable with accident, say fire."

I didn't care. My feet were cold. I wanted to be in a warm bed, not giving advice and packing for a drive. I did not want to think about Shondra and Jamison Jones. About the way death found its way to my doorstep the way stray cats found their way to others.

"Get me a room at The Swan and write down my cell phone number," I said. "And stay calm."

Ridiculous advice but he needed to hear it. "Thanks," he said. "When will you be here?"

"As soon as I can. Around seven, seven-thirty."

I disconnected and called Suzanne. She sounded sleepy and cranky and her mood didn't improve when she heard my news. We agreed I'd stop at her place on my way out of town. Paul, Junior was an early riser anyway.

Then I did the math. It was now three a.m. I needed an hour to prepare and pack. Had to be at Suzanne's by five. That left me an hour to sleep. Not adequate to make me bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not enough time to reconcile myself to leaving Andre again so soon.

I set my watch for four and slipped back into bed, planting my icy feet against Andre's strong thighs. He shuddered, then turned and flung an arm around me, pulling me against him. "What's up?" he whispered.

"Dead student, another one arrested," I said. "I have to go help them out."

"They fired you, didn't they?"

"A victim's family treats you badly, do you walk away from a murder?"

He ran a line of kisses down my neck. My feet were getting warmer and St. Matthews was retreating. "I don't want you to go," he said.

"Me neither. Don't want you to go when you get calls, but sweetie, that's the way it is. If I locked you in a tower, you'd knot your sheets together and climb down."

"And
vice versa.
You'll be careful?" he whispered.

"Very, very careful."

"Make that very, very, very."

So it was going to be okay. We cling to each for our remaining hour, remembering how it had felt to be apart. Remembering the wedding that didn't happen. When my alarm went off, I rose, cursing, to pack. He fixed me breakfast, then carried out my suitcase and put it in the trunk. I couldn't seem to get in the car.

"What's wrong?"

"The life we lead. Always leaving. Always chasing death. It's not normal. And I can't help remembering..."

He pulled me up against him. "We picked these lives, Thea, because there's a lot about them we do like. You need to go there because you're the best person for the job. You know what you're doing and you know what they need. Same for me. What would you rather do?"

"Stay in bed with you."

"Forever?"

I considered. "For a big chunk of forever."

"You want me to come with you? It's the weekend."

"What would you do? Lounge at the B&B, eat brunch and read novels? I've got an 18-hour day ahead."

"Lounging? Eating? Reading? I could do that. As long as you stopped in occasionally for a little recreation." He twirled his imaginary mustache, a gesture so goofy it was endearing. I thought, for the millionth time, how lucky I was to have found this man. I was about to say, 'why not?' when his beeper went off. He pulled it off his belt, checked the number, and grinned. "Looks like blood and gore is calling both of us."

"That's not funny."

"Cop humor," he said. "I'll call you as soon as I know what's up."

"Promise you'll be careful."

"I promise." He stood, his hands on his hips, watching me leave. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as we both shall live. It took all my willpower not to turn back.

Chapter 11

"Oh, I don't know," Suzanne said, balancing Paul, Jr. on her hip as she tried to fix his cereal. "It's just damned..." Her eyes rested on the soft blond head nestled against her shoulder. "...darned inconvenient. Next weekend is Parent's Weekend and we've so much arranging to do. I mean yes, I know I ought to be there... I'll have to be there, but honestly, Thea, after the way they've treated us, I can't muster much enthusiasm for dropping everything and rushing there to help."

"A student is dead," I reminded her. "They've got an A-list crisis on their hands. This is when they need us."

"And I've got all these parents who expect to be catered to."

She was on both sides of this and I sympathized. But the clock was running and she was the one who'd modeled compulsive behavior and made me a partner in this firm. "Then don't come. Send Bobby or Lisa to help. It won't be you, but we've got to face reality. You have a lot going on in your life."

"Yes, dammit, I do!"

She set the baby in his high chair, put down his cereal and a spoon, then dropped into a chair and buried her head in her hands. "I never meant for things to get like this. You know how much EDGE Consulting means to me."

I looked at the small blond boy, eagerly spooning up his cereal. "As do the men in your life."

"Just you wait," she said. She flushed. "Oh dear. Oh, Thea. I am so sorry. I didn't mean..."

My life has been disturbingly public. Things other people get to do in private, I tend to do with an audience. I'd had my miscarriage in the company of several tough Maine State Troopers. Andre was eager for a baby and so was I, but I couldn't stand the way everyone cast clandestine looks at my waistline and asked hopeful questions. I was ready to get some t-shirts that said, 'Bug Off, I'll let you know when I'm pregnant.'

"I know what you meant."

But Suzanne had popped out of her chair and was fretting around the kitchen, feeling guilty about what she'd just said, and guilty about work, and guilty about leaving her husband and son, even though her husband had a staff and her son had a good nanny. And none of it was getting me any closer to the door.

"They're waiting," I said. "Come if you can. If not, send Bobby or Lisa. Call me, either way, so I'll know who's coming. These people are clueless. I can't do this alone."

I slung my briefcase over my shoulder. The baby gave me a delighted smile, said, "Teea," just like my little sister Carrie used to do, and flung a big spoonful of gummy cereal. It hit me square in the chest, rolled in two gray tracks down my front, bounced off my knees and landed on my toes. Not bad for a kid who wasn't even two.

Suzanne squawked, dove at me with a sponge and a bottle of club soda, and did a valet number that would have qualified for Guinness. I was sick of hearing her mutter "sorry," so I told her to shut up. "Babies do that," I said. "It is no big deal. I'm not known for my sartorial splendor anyway."

Suzanne, who used to buy my clothes before she got too busy, rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be splendid," she said, "I just don't want you squalid. Give me a full report as soon as you know what's going on, okay?"

I draggled out into the gray morning, fired up my sleek red Saab, and headed for New Hampshire. This time, there was no sunlight gracing the fields, but the cold night had laid silver frosting over everything and the valleys and hollows were filled with a wispy mist that gave a ghostly cast to the roadsides. It hovered about the lakes and rose up from fields like the ground was smoking.

Driving through that haunted landscape, it was hard to fight off memories of other times when I'd set out to handle a crisis and found much more than I'd bargained for. This time I would stay strictly professional, give my advice, and get out of there.

My resolution lasted until I arrived at St. Matthews. Craig Dunham had not told them to expect me. I had to talk my way past the security at the gate, a chore that wasted several minutes. I took off down the drive much too fast, only to find Shondra Jones, a full 6' 3" of abject misery, standing by the roadside.

It had started raining. When she stepped into my path in her dark raincoat and held up a hand, I thought she was more security until she threw back her hood. Suddenly revealed like that, her glistening, set face looked fierce and tribal and a dozen years older than sixteen.

At my nod, she got in and slammed the door, her wet braids tossing like snakes. She sat silent, staring out through the windshield. She was jittery, shivering from the cold and it was obvious she hadn't slept. If they'd sent her coach to help, it hadn't worked, but Shondra at the best of times was probably hard to help.

Abruptly, she burst into sobs that shook her strong shoulders and sent sympathetic reverberations through me as well. "Can you pull over, please?" I stopped the car.

"This is all my fault," she said. "For tryin' to stop this. For thinkin' me and Jamison could handle it ourselves. I should have just let him go on doing like he was doing and not got Jamison involved. Alasdair said I'd be sorry and he was right. I am so goddamned sorry. Ain't nobody can stop what he do."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but before I could ask, she said, "You gotta help Jamison, Miz Kozak, you just gotta. Someone's gotta figure out what's goin' on here. He's only in this 'cuz of me. My brother'd never do anything like this, and he's got no one on his side."

"The first thing your brother needs is a good lawyer, Shondra."

"Oh, yeah. Right. What we gonna pay him with? Jamison didn't do this, you know. And that's the truth."

"That's what his lawyer is for, Shondra. To protect his rights and help him prove that."

"And how's he gonna find a good one up here in fuckin' Cow Hampshire?"

"There are good lawyers everywhere," I said quietly. "And that attitude of yours isn't helping anyone."

"So now you gonna get on me 'bout my attitude, too?"

"Hey," I said, "you came looking for me, remember? You've got a pretty damned funny way of asking for help."

"Yeah, well, they say I got funny ways." She was flexing the fingers of her big hands. Flexing. Flexing. Flexing. Then tapping in a jittery beat on her knees. All the while staring at me with her exotic, tragic eyes.

I tried to be patient. This girl was in the middle of a crisis, after all. She obviously wanted something, but I was no mind reader and the clock was ticking. "Shondra, I know this is a bad time for you, but I've got a lot to do. So spit it out, because I'm already late. Believe it or not, you aren't all alone on this planet."