Just Cause

by Susan Page Davis

  “Again?”

  She winced.

  “Sorry.” Dan walked toward her. “Tell me what happened.”

  She turned to look behind her. Hamilton was standing a few feet away, but he was listening. “Could we …” It was hard to breathe, and she gulped for air.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Dan—”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t tell me—” She broke off, eyeing his uniform, blue this time, with the city patches, badge and pistol. Alarm bells clanged inside her, even though it looked good on him. She’d been stupid to encourage his interest in her. A cop was the last thing she wanted in her personal life.

  “I was going to tell you if you called,” he said. “Can we talk later?”

  She nodded. “That’s my apartment. I came home from the store, and the door was open. I asked that gentleman to call 911.”

  Dan nodded at Hamilton. “You did the right thing.”

  A female officer rounded the car. “I’ll go check on things inside.”

  “Laurel, would you like to sit in the cruiser while you wait?” Dan asked.

  “Do I have to?”

  “No. You could sit in your own car. It may be a few minutes.”

  She nodded and got into her Toyota without looking at him or Hamilton. Nausea engulfed her.

  She no longer asked “Why me?” when bad things happened. It was part of her existence now. Concealing her identity, staying out of new relationships, avoiding attention. That was better than being shunned by acquaintances and censured by strangers. But this was too much.

  Lord, I’m just getting established here, and I thought maybe it was possible for me to make a new friend. Now I’ve been burglarized, and I learn this guy is a cop. What can I do?

  Her tenuous sense of security in the apartment and the community was shattered, and her budding friendship with Dan was in jeopardy. She took a deep breath and willed her heart to slow down.

  Dan spoke briefly with Hamilton, then went inside the apartment, stepping carefully over the apples and canned soup that had rolled out of her bag on the steps. After ten long minutes, the second officer came out and approached her car.

  “I’m Officer Alton. We’ve determined that there’s no one inside, ma’am. You can come in now, but please don’t touch anything.”

  Some of the neighbors watched from their windows. Laurel kept her head down as she followed the policeman inside.

  A dull ache spread through her body as she stood just inside the living room surveying the mess. Shock was beyond her. Shock was what she had felt two years ago when she came blithely home from a shopping trip and in one second found her life devastated. Now, a resigned defeat crept over her.

  “I know this is stressful.” She flinched and turned. Dan stood close behind her. “Take your time, and just try to tell us if anything is missing.”

  She took a half step away from him. “I don’t know where to start.”

  The carton of books she had yet to unpack had been dumped in a chaotic jumble on the rug. Her art supplies were strewn among them and between the cushions from the sagging couch. Cyan acrylic paint oozed from its tube onto her favorite afghan and the gold carpet, where it seemed someone had stepped on it. Through the bedroom door, she could see clothing and bedding heaped on the floor.

  “Did you have any valuables?” Officer Alton asked. “Jewelry, cash, credit cards, artworks?”

  She shook her head.

  “Electronics?”

  “My computer. I took my laptop with me, so I could check email in the fast food parking lot.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “I left it in the car, on the floor of the back seat.”

  “Okay, I see you have a printer. Any peripherals missing?”

  Laurel stepped over to the rickety desk where she worked. Her computer was the first thing she’d set up when she moved in, but she couldn’t afford Internet service yet. “No. All I had was the printer and—” She stopped, looking at the empty plastic box. Her software disks were scattered on the desktop, and a few lay on the floor.

  “At least they didn’t break them,” Alton said.

  Laurel saw one disk peeking out from under the pile of spilled books.

  “You think kids did this?” she asked.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  Dan stepped closer to her. “How long were you away?”

  “Maybe an hour. I did the e-mail first, outside the restaurant on Main Street. And I just needed a few things at the store.”

  He nodded. “Did you have a television and DVD player here? We didn’t find those.”

  “No.”

  “CD player? Radio?”

  She shook her head. They must think the thieves stole all her accessories, but the truth was she hadn’t had time or money to buy more than the basic necessities. The apartment had come furnished with the castoff sofa and desk, a wobbly single bed, and a chipboard dresser. Decent furniture and an entertainment system were distant goals that were of little importance to Laurel.

  “How about in the kitchen? Microwave?”

  “I don’t have one. I just moved to Ohio, and I didn’t bring much.”

  Dan’s eyes were thoughtful as he wrote in his small notebook. “So as far as you can tell, nothing was actually taken?”

  She hesitated. “I can’t really say yet, but I didn’t have anything of value to anyone else.”

  “No weapons?”

  She turned and stared at him. He knows, she thought. He ran my name through a national data base, and he knows I’m not allowed to own a gun.

  “Sorry. We have to ask.”

  “Nothing like that.”

  Dan nodded. “All right. I’m going to go out and call for technicians to check for fingerprints around your bedroom window.”

  She exhaled carefully. “They came in through the window?”

  “Looks like it. Cut the screen in the bedroom to get in, and left through the front door. You said it was open.”

  “Not wide open, but it wasn’t latched.”

  “We’ll question the neighbors in case somebody saw something.”

  He went out, and Officer Alton said, “If you discover later that something is missing, let us know.” She took a business card from her shirt pocket and held it out to Laurel. “That’s the dispatcher’s non-emergency number at the police station. Just ask for me or Officer Ryan by name, and they’ll contact us.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is there someplace you can go for now?”

  “I thought I’d clean up.”

  “Let the techs finish before you move anything. They may want to dust those computer disks and some of the other things.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Could be an hour or two. If you didn’t eat earlier, you might want to go out and get lunch.” The officer looked around, and Laurel noted how stark the room was, and how meager her belongings.

  The thought of leaving her possessions exposed like this repelled her. At least one person had already handled them. Now a team of professionals would come in and sift through them. She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t want to watch that, either. When they were done, she wouldn’t waste a moment in setting things to rights.

  *****

  Dan saw Laurel come out of the apartment and met her on the walkway. Her shiny hair fluttered in the breeze, and her troubled brown eyes radiated hurt. Of course, she was a crime victim, but that wasn’t all. She was taking it personally that he hadn’t told her right away he was a police officer. For some reason, she felt betrayed.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away,” he said. “It was stupid of me.”

  She shrugged and looked away.

  “Sometimes people are intimidated when they find out I’m a cop. I just wanted to get to know you, without that being a factor. I would have told you soon.”

  She hesitated. “I guess everyone has things they hold back.”

  He
tried to smile. “Well, I ran some data just now, and I learned a lot about you.”

  Laurel caught her breath and stepped back. “Such as?”

  Dan watched her in surprise. “Such as, you’ve never had a traffic violation in the state, but you’ve only held an Ohio license for three weeks.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So, it leads to other questions.”

  She pressed her lips together, and Dan had a sudden conviction that she was afraid. Not afraid of the burglars, but of him.

  “Laurel, I thought the car burglary at the hospital last week was a random thing. It’s happened there before. But now your new apartment is broken into. Nothing was taken either time. That’s very odd.”

  She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t have anything valuable.”

  “Apparently someone thinks you do.”

  Her mouth went hard, and she said nothing. Dan considered pressing the issue. He was walking a fine line between helping a woman he was beginning to care about and rooting out the truth. He didn’t want to break her trust, to drive her away, but he couldn’t let that cloud his judgment as a police officer. What did he really know about her, after all? Next to nothing, and that was her choice.

  He decided to take a softer tack. “I was hoping you’d call me, but how about if we get together instead? I’m off duty at five. We could grab a bite to eat and talk.””

  “I don’t think that would work.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  She was shutting down on him, he could see it. “Please?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m sorry.” He knew she was right. He shouldn’t socialize with the victim in a case he was investigating. Maybe he should have Jessica take over Laurel’s case and remove himself from it.

  “If I weren’t the investigating officer, would that make a difference?” he asked softly.

  She looked him in the eye. He waited, almost able to see her mental deliberation. Had he been too official, too abrasive, or just too neutral? Had the uniform and the computer check built a fence between them?

  “I ... do want to see you again. I’m just … a little overwhelmed right now.”

  “Okay.” Dan took a deep breath. All was not lost. “How about if I just call you then? I’ll use the number you listed in the police report, if that’s okay.”

  She nodded. “Make it tomorrow. That will give me a chance to think about things.”

  Her restless eyes avoided him. There was still some sort of struggle going on beneath the surface. “Okay. I need to help Jessica. If you think you’ll be all right—”

  “I’ll take Officer Alton’s advice and go out for lunch.”

  “Sure.” He smiled at her, and her wistful return smile made his stomach lurch a little. “Be careful.”

  Terror leaped into her eyes. “You don’t think someone would follow me now?”

  He wished he’d said nothing. “No. They haven’t attacked you, just your property. But … stay alert.”

  “Will you be here when I come back?”

  “Probably not. But I’ll let you know later if we find out anything.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”

  He opened the door of her car for her, and she backed out of her spot. Dan watched until she turned onto the main road.

  Laurel Wilson was an enigma, and she stirred his protective instincts. He wanted to take her in his arms and assure her that everything would be all right. She seemed always on guard, but maybe she had good reason. He aimed to find out.

  *****

  Laurel bought a sandwich at the drive-through window of the same fast food restaurant where she’d stopped that morning and parked on the other side of the building. She sat there with her car doors locked. She wouldn’t take a chance by getting out of the car and going inside to eat. Someone who wanted to hurt her might be watching her this very minute. She didn’t buy Dan’s platitudes for one second. She shuddered and sank lower in the seat as she opened the paper bag.

  Dan Ryan was a cop. She should just end it now, tell him she didn’t think things would work for them on the personal level. And why hadn’t he learned about her legal status when he did the computer check on her? Maybe the Ohio State Police hadn’t entered the data in their computer network yet. She had checked in with them in Columbus, when she first arrived in the state, but apparently Dan had turned up nothing but her new driver’s license. Maybe using her maiden name had thrown him off track, as she’d hoped it would nosey strangers.

  She stared down at the chicken sandwich. Her appetite had deserted her, and she regretted spending money for the food. She was barely paying her rent, car, and living expenses on her meager wages.

  A headache began at the base of her skull. She forced herself to eat, wondering how soon she could go home.

  Home. The apartment didn’t deserve the title. It was as like its neighbors as one cell in a honeycomb of modern brick buildings. Angles and walls stuck out in staggered tiers. More privacy, but less security.

  For three weeks she had told herself she would get used to her new quarters, but every time she unlocked the door, she felt as though she was entering a storage closet. No use remembering the comfortable, sprawling Queen Anne house that oozed charm, with its turret and wraparound porch. She would never have a home like that again.

  Her lack of personal belongings robbed her apartment of warmth. Art on the walls, that’s what it needed. Colorful throw pillows, and shelves to display her books. Laurel determined that she would clean up everything today, then hang a couple of her drawings and go buy a bookcase. And she would scour yard sales on Saturday and come home with some pretty knickknacks.

  Family photos would help. Only a few of her parents and her childhood had survived. There had been a fire while she was in college, but losing the photos had been far down the list of her griefs at the time. Her father had died in the fire.

  She had a few snapshots of herself and Bob, but Bob was gone now, too. When her trial ended with no verdict and she was released from jail a year and a half after his death, their large wedding portrait was missing. She assumed his mother had appropriated it. The framed five-by-seven on her dresser was her strongest reminder of Bob now. She looked hard at it every day when she got up, determined not to forget him. Was it still there, in the chaos the burglars had left?

  The sudden thought that the police officers might find something revealing made her mouth go dry. She should never have called them. She ought to have steeled herself and gone inside alone. Now it was too late. What in the apartment would identify her as an accused murderer temporarily freed by a hung jury? Would whatever they found tell Dan and his partner what happened in Oakland, Maine?

  *****

  “You know this woman?” Jessica asked as she sifted through the clothing on the bedroom rug.

  “I just met her last week. She’s got a night job at the hospital.”

  “She’s very attractive.”

  Dan smiled vaguely. “Like I said, we just met.”

  Jessica picked up a spiral bound notebook and opened it. “Is she an artist?”

  Dan looked over at the pencil drawing Jess was staring at. He reached for the sketchbook. A floppy-eared puppy wriggled on the page. “Looks like it.”

  He flipped through the book. A sailboat, a curly-haired child, flowers. Lots of flowers and ferns. The drawings were good enough for a botanical field guide.

  “Her car was rifled last week in the hospital parking lot.”

  Jessica glanced at him. “She told you just now?”

  “No, I was there. She didn’t know I was a sworn officer. Thought I was just plain security.”

  “Ah. That explains her attitude when we arrived.”

  “Partly.”

  “She didn’t report the car incident?”

  “No. She scared him off. He didn’t take anything.”

  “What do you make of it?”

  “Nothi
ng yet.”

  “But you don’t think it’s coincidental.”

  Dan sighed. “Maybe something was taken after all, and she didn’t realize it. If the burglar found something with her address on it—say an envelope—it would be easy for him to come around here and break in while she was out. And she might not miss a used envelope.”

  Jess nodded. “That’s probably it. The two burglaries are connected.”

  Dan couldn’t quite ignore the thought that the thief had been searching for something specific. The way Laurel’s things were tossed about suggested that. There was no nuisance damage, the way kids did when they trashed a place for the fun of it. No broken glass, no graffiti on the walls.

  This was more like a deliberate but hurried search. The terror in Laurel’s eyes when he’d suggested as much made him suspect he was right. He could check some databases and see if anything came up, but he wasn’t optimistic that it would. She had just moved to Ohio. Computerized national databases were woefully incomplete. If he knew her home state, it would be easier. He could learn more if he tried, but it would take a lot of time and effort.

  The technicians arrived, and Dan instructed them to lift fingerprints at the points of entry and exit, and on Laurel’s belongings.

  “We’ll need her prints for comparison,” one of the techs said.

  “She’ll be back soon. Take them then.” Dan and Jess headed outside, to begin canvassing the neighbors. “I may check into this further,” he told Jess.

  “Of course.”

  “No, I mean Laurel. Her background. She’s not from Ohio. She had to come from somewhere, but she didn’t volunteer where.”

  “You thought this break-in was the result of a thief gaining information during a random car burglary.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it’s part of a bigger pattern.”

  “You think she’s hiding something?”

  Dan nodded grudgingly. “She doesn’t want to talk about the past, that’s for sure.” What was it that she didn’t want him to know? She’d dodged his questions several times now. How bad can it be? A dozen possibilities ran through his mind. Illegal alien? Illegitimate child? Fatal disease? Rebellious youth?

  “Maybe she’s in a witness protection program.” Dan laughed. It sounded ridiculous, even to him.