“Yes. I update their website five nights a week.”
“From home?”
“No, I go in and work there at night.”
Judy frowned. “They make you be at the hospital at night for that? Surely you could do it from home. That is, if you have a computer.”
“I do. My laptop’s in my bag. And you’re right—I could easily work from home.”
“I know some people in administration. If you want, I can ask them about it. Under the circumstances, it would be safer.”
“Do you think they’d go along with that?” Dan helped himself to more salad.
“I don’t see why not,” said Judy. “The hospital has home health care workers with home offices. They go in once or twice a week for files on their casework.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Laurel said.
“Just don’t let on that she’s staying with you,” Dan cautioned.
Judy nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very discreet.”
“The website seems so trivial,” Laurel said. “Unfortunately, it’s my bread and butter right now.”
Dan laughed. “Now, now, websites are important for public relations. The police department has one.”
“Really? What’s on it? The ten most wanted?”
“Yes, actually, and the officer of the month, and safety tips for bicyclists, all that sort of thing.”
“Have you been officer of the month?” Laurel asked.
He smiled. “I received the dubious honor once last year.”
“Laurel, I hope you like our city and decide to stay when all of this is over,” Judy said.
“Thanks. I like the area so far. I grew up in a small town, and it’s much more congested here than I’m used to. But the energy is exciting. Still, I don’t think I’m a city girl at heart.”
“I know what you mean.” Judy glanced toward the dining room window that looked out on a large lawn bordered by deciduous trees. “I picked this neighborhood because it’s quiet. If you look out the back, you almost think you’re in the country.”
“It’s beautiful. Your home feels very loved.”
“Thank you.” Judy looked over at Dan. “What about you? Didn’t you tell me once you’re a farm boy?”
“Yeah, sort of. I grew up on an old farm about twenty miles from here—no cows or anything, but lots of open space. I miss it.”
“Where do you live now?” Laurel asked.
Dan smiled and sipped his coffee. “I’m renting a little house over in Cromwell Park. It’s not much, just a place to sleep, really. Someday I’d like to live in the country again.”
“Me, too. Someplace that feels homey.” Laurel looked at him and Judy. “You’re doing so much for me. Dan, you have an entire life outside of this. I feel as though I’m ruining it.”
He shook his head. “That’s not the phrase I’d use to describe what you’ve done to my life in the last two weeks, Laurel.”
Judy arched her eyebrows and smiled. “I believe it’s time for me to start the dishwasher.”
“Let me help you.” Laurel started to rise.
“No, you have more important things to do. You and Dan must have things to talk about before he goes on duty tonight.”
“That’s right. You have to work at the hospital.” Again Laurel was struck by what a huge inconvenience she brought to Dan. There wasn’t room in his life for her.
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Judy’s right. We need to talk, and then I’ll go for the rest of your things.”
“Should I go with you, to pack up?”
“I think you should stay here. I’ll do the packing. I’ll come by in the morning on my way to work with everything if it looks like the coast is clear.”
Judy gathered their coffee cups and headed for the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home.”
Dan stood and led Laurel into the living room. They sat down on the brown plush sofa, and he didn’t speak for a moment, staring at the books on Judy’s coffee table. Laurel waited until he looked up at her with an apologetic smile.
“I read what I could find online last night. It told me enough, I think.”
“Enough for what?”
“Enough to tell me you got a lousy deal.”
She gave a short laugh.
“I mean it. You shouldn’t have to live with this hanging over you. It’s bad enough to lose someone you love—”
“How do you know I loved him?” Her voice came out tight and small.
Dan took two deep breaths. “You must have. I can’t think you’d marry a man you didn’t love. Not you, Laurel.”
He reached for her hand, and Laurel sat still, unable to quell the thrill that his touch brought.
“It’s hard to even think about it,” he said. “You went through so much. I hope you weren’t alone in all of that.”
Laurel’s heart raced. Her feelings for Dan were growing. He was conscientious and reliable, but more than that, he was tender and compassionate. She knew that if things progressed in this direction, she would soon be helplessly in love with him.
“My lawyer tried hard,” she whispered.
“How about your family?”
She shook her head. “My close family’s gone. And Bob’s family was … hostile.”
“I gathered that much from the clippings. But you must have had a church family.”
She shook her head. “My pastor was away when it happened, and I didn’t dare to contact anyone. The pastor did come to see me a couple of times later on, but I told him not to come to the jail too often. After the trial, my lawyer found me a place in Portland. He told me not to contact anyone, just to let him handle lining up witnesses for the next phase.”
“But how could your friends leave you alone like that?
“People were confused, and it bothered them to have me around. I never knew who would be nice to me and who would be mean or ignore me. I didn’t want to put the pastor in an awkward position. And my lawyer thought it was best that way. After I moved to Portland I went to church a few times, but it was always to a different church. I would go late and sneak in at the back. But I haven’t attended any church regularly in the last two years.”
“Is your lawyer a believer?”
She shook her head.
“How could you stand it, being alone like that?”
“I’ve tried not to think about it lately,” she confessed. “It was pretty awful. After the trial, I wanted to go home and lock myself in, but I didn’t have a home anymore. Bob’s parents had sold the house they’d bought for us. And things were so tense in Oakland, I was afraid to stay in town.”
Dan stared at her. “I don’t see how anyone who knew you could think you were guilty.”
“It seemed like everyone thought I did it, even though I wasn’t convicted, and it was just a matter of time before the court did a recount and said so. Even down in Portland, everyone knew who I was. I’d walk into a store and people would stare. I had no income. The insurance company won’t settle until the case is closed, and the civil suit can’t go forward. I applied for jobs, but they all wanted to know if I had a criminal record. It was just too hard.”
“So the judge let you move away.”
“Yes. I petitioned him, and my lawyer made a good plea for me. Convinced him it would save the state of Maine a bundle, that I’d be better off where I could live in anonymity, and that I wasn’t a flight risk. After a few weeks, the judge agreed to let me leave the area. I had to practically sign my life away, and I have to check in by phone every week. It’s not as bad as prison, but …” She sobbed involuntarily. “If they call me back …”
He inched over next to her. “Come here.”
She went slowly, but willingly, into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. Dan let out a deep sigh.
“You should have gone back to court within sixty days,” he murmured.
“My lawyer waived the time limits. He thinks that unless he comes up with some new evidence to help me, going back to t
rial soon would work against me.”
“And nothing new has turned up?”
“So far as I know. This waiting is horrible. I’m starting to wish I could just get it over with.”
“I’m so sorry, Laurel. If I could have been there—”
“You didn’t know I existed,” she whispered.
“But if I had, you wouldn’t have been alone. I’d have done everything possible to comfort you.”
“Could you have gotten rid of Renee?”
He was still for a moment, then he inhaled deeply. “What did she do to you?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true. You’re scared of her.”
“She ... made me order things for her. She didn’t have any money, so whenever my lawyer put cash in my account, she made me order treats and give them to her.”
“She threatened you.”
“Well, sure.”
“Did she hurt you?”
“Not really. She ... slapped me few times. After that I did what she told me and kept out of her way. And she kept other women from bothering me. I was thankful for that.”
He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Laurel, you’ve been through so much. If I’d been part of your life back then, I’d have tried to make things easier. I’d probably have hired you a better lawyer.”
His tender tone brought tears to her eyes. “Jim did all right. I guess.”
“How can you say that? You almost got put away for life.”
“I still could.”
He held her tighter. “How did you survive with no one there to keep reminding you they loved you?”
She rested against his chest for a minute, soaking up the feel of him and the smell of him. “I prayed a lot.” She lifted her head and peered at him intently. “You’re the first person who’s touched me since the murder—in a friendly way, I mean. The first person who really cared.”
He pulled her back down against his shoulder. “You stay there as long as you want.” He stroked her hair. “I read Renee’s record. She was in for assault.”
“Yeah. I didn’t dare cross her. She got in trouble a few times for fighting. But it could have been worse for me, a lot worse.”
“And the guards?”
“The female guards had to be tough. The men—well, I didn’t have much contact with them.”
They sat in silence, and Laurel went over the events in her mind. Bob’s death, the investigation, her arrest, and the agonizing wait of sixteen months before the trial. She could so easily have been held in custody all that time.
She didn’t want to think about the jail now, and the pain that went with it—the assumptions of guilt; the sneering, derisive women; the men who watched her with slits of eyes when they had the chance; the female guards who were distrustful, sometimes rougher than they needed to be, but the images filled her mind.
“Once during exercise, Renee told me I’d better scram,” she said. “I did, and later I found out she and another woman were in trouble for fighting. But it could have been worse for me, a lot worse.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to think about a bright future, perhaps one that would include Dan. He held her close, and she was comfortable in his arms. His soft breathing filled her with contentment, and she rested against him, deliciously warm.
There was one loose end that bothered her, and she sat up. “You never asked me.”
“Asked you what?”
“If I did it.”
“Ah, Laurel, why would I need to ask you that?” He tightened his arms around her.
She exhaled, feeling some of the weight lifted from her. “Pray for me, Danny.”
“Of course.”
“You ought to leave now.”
“You’re right.” He stood up slowly. “I’ll call later.”
Knowing that he would keep that simple promise encouraged her. She wasn’t alone now.
Chapter 7
Bill Regent, one of Dan’s friends from the police squad, held the door of Laurel’s apartment open while Dan carried her printer out to his pickup. A box of software followed. Dan locked the doors of the truck before they went back inside.
“Thanks for helping out tonight.”
Bill shrugged. “No problem. Jean and I had nothing better to do. You delivering this stuff tonight?”
“Well, Laurel’s probably at work now. I meant to do it earlier, but we got hung up at that traffic accident. I called and told her I’d come by in the morning.
“Good. You need sleep.”
“Let’s see how Jean’s making out,” Dan said. They had left Bill’s wife folding the few clothes left in Laurel’s dresser drawers and placing them in a garbage bag.
As they entered the living room, Dan heard a sharp yelp from the next room, then the sound of shattering glass. Jean Regent came tearing from the bedroom and collided with Dan, then bounced from him into Bill’s arms.
“What is it?” Bill asked, holding her close. “What happened?”
“There was someone outside the window. I was just going to yell for you, and the window broke.”
Dan strode into Laurel’s room as Bill dashed out the front door. Shards of glass sparkled on the carpet beneath the broken window. Carefully, Dan stepped to the window and opened the casement. He looked out into the darkness, but there was no movement.
Beyond the next unit an engine started, and he heard a car pull away with a squeal toward the entrance of the complex.
Bill came cautiously around the corner of the building and looked up at him.
“Anything?”
“Gone. Jean must have scared them off.”
“They thought she was your friend.”
“Could be. Come on inside.”
Dan stooped to pick up the glass.
“I’ll see if I can find a broom,” Jean said from the doorway.
Bill came back in, and together they cleaned up the mess.
“Better tell the super,” Bill said.
Dan nodded. “I’ll call him. You and Jean stick close together. As soon as we get the rest of Laurel’s stuff packed, we’re out of here.”
“Oh, no,” Jean said. “Not until I clean the bathroom and scrub the oven. I’m not letting that poor girl lose her deposit.”
Dan laughed. “Thanks, Jean. You’re one tough cookie.”
“No, I’m a cop’s wife. Point me to the oven cleaner.”
Bill folded the broken glass in a newspaper. “They won’t be back tonight.”
“Even so,” Dan said, “we’d better be more cautious. Keep an eye on each other.”
“You’d better call this in, get it on record,” Bill said.
“I suppose so.” Bill had been Dan’s mentor when he first joined the police department, and he hated to disregard his advice.
“What, you wouldn’t report this?” Jean scowled at him.
“There’s no way they’ll catch the person who did it, and …” Dan let the thought trail off, but Bill picked it up.
“Two cops in the house when it happened. You’re thinking we’d look pretty silly, is that it?”
“No, not at all. It’s just … well, I didn’t tell you, but Laurel had two break-ins here in the last few days. That’s why I insisted she move out so quickly.”
Bill stared at him. “You should have told me, Danny Boy.”
Dan winced. “I know. I didn’t want to put her through any more. I figured at the time that if she got to a safe place for the night, she’d be fine. But it looks like these guys aren’t giving up.”
“Where is she staying?” Jean asked.
“A friend.”
Bill and his wife nodded.
“Is she in trouble?” Jean asked.
Bill snorted. “That’s her way of asking you if this Laurel is a criminal.”
“No, it’s not!” Jean glared at him. “I just meant, is there some reason behind this harassment?”
Dan hesitated. “There is, but I can’t tell you the details. If it�
��s any comfort, I think I’ll talk to Lt. Powers tomorrow and see if he can help me with it. Laurel hasn’t done anything wrong, but someone has it in for her. I want to make sure she’s safe. That’s all.”
Bill nodded. “All right, we’ll take your word for it.”
“It’s good enough for me,” Jean agreed. “Where’s that oven cleaner?”
*****
Working in the empty office Monday night brought Laurel’s anxiety to the forefront. After thirty nerve-racking minutes, she shoved the desk and chair around until she could see the doorway. Still, being alone in the large, open room with its bulky furniture and files casting deep shadows kept her on edge.
It was a relief when Troy came to check on things.
“I don’t suppose you could come back in an hour and walk me to my car?” she said.
Troy grinned. “My pleasure, Laurel.”
Quickly she sought to erase any notion the security guard might have that she hoped to start a friendship.
“It’s a little creepy out there.”
He nodded. “Yeah, and now that the weather’s warmer, the weirdoes hang around later.”
Laurel gritted her teeth and turned back to the monitor. “Thanks. I’ll be ready around one o’clock.”
When he came to escort her, she felt a little silly. But Dan’s warnings simmered in the back of her mind, and she knew she shouldn’t take chances. After all, her car had been burglarized right here in the parking lot.
“Beautiful night,” Troy said as they climbed the concrete steps.
“Yes.” She looked anxiously ahead, to where Judy’s car was parked under a street light. She hoped nothing had happened to it. She hadn’t wanted to drive it, but Judy insisted. Since the burglars knew her car, Dan had taken the Toyota to an undisclosed location. Best if she didn’t know where, he’d said. A dealer would sell it, without her ever Meeting him. If things went well, no one would recognize the name on the title, Laurel Wilson, and she would soon have enough money to buy another vehicle. A nondescript, inexpensive, five-year-old sedan was Dan’s recommendation.
“Whoa, nice car.” Troy appreciatively cased Judy’s silver Lexus.
Laurel almost said, “Oh, it’s not mine,” but she bit that back. “Thanks.”
It occurred to her that she stood out in Troy’s mind for several reasons. If someone came around the hospital asking about her, Troy was an untapped source of information. Should she sound him out and ask him not to betray her? That in itself might be dangerous.
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