Just Cause

by Susan Page Davis

  “You can get up now. I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

  She pulled herself onto the seat and looked around. “We’re headed for the police station?”

  “I need to go in and make a statement.”

  “You didn’t tell them I was with you.”

  Dan gritted his teeth, hoping he wasn’t making the wrong decision. “We’ll make a short stop first.” He glanced over at her. The killers were desperate enough to attack Laurel in her home. He needed to take her to a place where they couldn’t find her. Lord, give me wisdom.

  *****

  Dan banged on the door, praying and trying to think of a better solution as he waited. Laurel stood shivering next to him, keeping her face averted from the street.

  At last the door swung open, and Terry Wyman stood before them with a sleepy, baffled expression. He was barefoot, wearing cutoffs and a T-shirt.

  “Dan. What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry, Terry. I know it’s late, but we need your help.”

  Terry blinked. “Sure.”

  “Can Laurel stay here tonight?”

  He was wide awake now, squinting at Laurel. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. Can we come in, please? I’ll explain.”

  “Sure. I’ll tell Donna.”

  As they entered the living room, Donna joined them wearing her housecoat and slippers. She smiled uncertainly at Dan. “Hi. Nice threads.”

  Dan smiled back. He’d forgotten about his tuxedo. When he looked down, he noticed a tear in the left sleeve and wondered if it was ruined. A trickle of blood smeared across the back of his hand and stained the cuff of his white shirt. “Thanks.”

  “Laurel needs a bed for the night,” Terry said.

  Donna’s eyebrows shot up. “I guess we can arrange that.”

  “I’m really sorry.” Dan hesitated. What am I asking of my friends?

  “Got luggage?” Terry asked.

  Laurel shook her head and looked at Dan. “This is probably not a good idea.”

  “I don’t know what else to do,” Dan said. “It’s here or the station.”

  “Let’s put the coffeepot on and talk,” Donna suggested.

  “I don’t have time,” Dan told her. “We’ll give you the short version, and if you don’t want to be in the middle of it, I won’t blame you. But I need to make a phone call first.”

  “Come on, Laurel.” Donna reached toward her. “Help me out in the kitchen.”

  Dan took out his phone. “Shut the curtains.”

  Donna stared at him, then nodded.

  “Are you calling Judy again?” Laurel asked.

  “Yeah. I’m going to suggest she stay with Marcia tonight, but the police will want to talk to her.”

  He dreaded telling Judy what he’d done to her garage door. She made light of it, showing much more concern for him and Laurel than for her house. Dan insisted she not stay there until the garage was secured.

  “And if your homeowner’s insurance won’t pay for the damage, you tell me. My dad and I will fix it ourselves.”

  Terry lingered while he made the call, then took him to the kitchen, where Donna had Laurel seated at the table drinking strong coffee.

  “I guess it’s time for explanations,” Dan said. “And I’m serious. If you want us to leave, we will.”

  “Laurel’s been telling me about it. A home invasion.” Donna shook her head.

  “Yeah. Two thugs slipped into the garage behind us when we drove in.” Dan flogged himself mentally. He should have been more alert. “So ... did she tell you the rest?”

  “You mean about her trial?” Donna asked. “She just told me.”

  Terry arched his eyebrows at her.

  “Tell you later, babe,” Donna said.

  Dan sipped the coffee she had placed before him and felt drained of his strength.

  “What happened to your hand?” Terry asked.

  Dan looked down. The cut had stopped bleeding, and the blood had congealed. “I guess a piece of glass got me. It’s not serious.” He looked at Terry and Donna. “So ... can I leave Laurel here while I go over to the station and make my statement? I want them to catch these guys, but I need to leave Laurel out of it.”

  Terry’s jaw dropped. “You’re just going to lie to the department and tell them she wasn’t with you?”

  Dan felt his face flush. “No, I’m just going to ... not tell them she was with me.”

  Donna brought him a clean, wet dishcloth. “Dan, this isn’t right.”

  He swabbed at his wound, not meeting her eyes, and flicked the shard of glass from the skin on his hand. “Laurel doesn’t want to go to the police station.”

  “Danny, I think we’re beyond that.” Laurel’s voice trembled. “I was wrong not to listen to you before.”

  He searched her face. “Are you sure?”

  Laurel nodded.

  “Let’s pray,” Donna said.

  Dan swallowed hard. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Laurel’s hands shook as she set her mug down. She reached hesitantly toward him, and he gripped her hand.

  Donna sat down beside Terry, and he began to pray. “Lord, thank You for letting Donna and me be here when Dan and Laurel needed help. Please help them to make a wise decision here—Your decision. Let them want what You want.”

  When Terry was finished, Dan’s gazed over at Laurel, whose eyes were bright with unshed tears. He knew in that moment that he’d do anything to protect her, including risking his life to safeguard hers.

  “We’ll wait up for you,” Donna said. “Come back when you’re finished. I’ll have a bed made up for Laurel.”

  “I’m ready to go with you, Danny,” Laurel said.

  He nodded. “Okay. Let’s go give the police what they need to catch these guys. Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter 10

  “I’ll have to call Augusta first thing tomorrow and tell the court where I am,” Laurel told Dan the next morning. Terry and Donna had left for church, but Dan refused to risk letting Laurel be seen in public again.

  “Can you call him on Sunday?”

  “No. I don’t have an emergency number or anything. They open at eight in the morning.”

  He nodded. “Don’t use Terry’s phone to call. You can use my cell phone.”

  Laurel bit her lip. “I’m afraid for Terry and Donna. Look at what happened at Judy’s.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about it, too. We can’t keep asking our friends to take risks for us.”

  “Your friends,” she corrected him. “They don’t know me. I’m only here because they trust you.”

  “They’ll know you better when this is over, and they’ll be glad they helped.” He rubbed his jaw and his aching neck. He’d have to quit the hospital job. Sleep deprivation could result in disaster. He needed to be in top form to shield Laurel from harm. Sighing, he leaned back in Terry’s arm chair.

  “I can’t stay here.” Laurel sat rigid on the edge of the sofa and squeezed her hands together. “I’m glad the police let us go last night. I was afraid they’d make me stay at the station.”

  “They had no reason to hold you. Laurel, I—”

  “What?”

  Her eyes were bloodshot, and he knew she hadn’t slept much more than he had. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “From the very first, you wanted me to keep the police involved, but I let fear override my common sense. I was wrong not to report it when Renee broke into the apartment. I just hope it’s not too late for them to intervene.”

  He rubbed a hand over his scratchy face. Shaving was now a time-consuming luxury. “I’m glad they didn’t put you in protective custody. We need to keep you free so we can find the evidence.”

  “Do you really believe I have something—or know something—that will clear me?”

  “Someone believes it.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I’m a hazard to anyone who associates with me. This has to stop.”


  “You’re right—we can’t keep putting others in danger.” He paused. “You should quit your job.”

  She blinked at him. “So soon?”

  “They must have traced you through the hospital. They were following Judy’s car, and you drove it to work last week. That’s the only place they could have made the connection.”

  Her mouth felt dry. “Troy. I wondered if he’d spill it, if someone asked about me at the hospital.”

  “It could have been him, or some well-meaning clerk in personnel. The men who attacked us probably waited there for you to come in, then followed you.”

  Her lips trembled as she inhaled. “I’m scared, Danny. They know you’re helping me now, and they may follow you.”

  “I borrowed an unmarked car from the police department’s motor pool until my truck window is fixed.”

  “That’s good. Still, Terry and Donna could be the next victims. We’ve got to leave.”

  He stared across the room for several seconds. “I’ll give my notice at the hospital tonight. You’re right. We need to burn some bridges.”

  “You can’t quit your job for me.”

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “I don’t need the weekend job. It’s just getting in the way now.”

  It’s too much, she thought. I’m making havoc of innocent people’s lives. Maybe I should just head back to Maine before someone else gets hurt.

  “Let’s pray,” Dan said.

  She looked up at him. “I have been.”

  He stood and moved over to the sofa beside her, reaching for her hand. “Let’s pray together. We need wisdom, that’s for sure.”

  *****

  Early Monday morning Laurel met Dan at the Wymans’ door when he stopped there before reporting for duty at the police station. Dark smudges beneath his eyes betrayed his fatigue. On Terry and Donna’s insistence, Laurel had reluctantly agreed to stay with them one more night, giving Dan time to make other arrangements, and the hours had passed without incident.

  “You look awful.”

  “Oh, thanks.” His smile etched fine lines at the corners of his mouth.

  “Did you give notice at the hospital?”

  “I’m all done there.”

  She winced but refrained from comment on the bad things her case had brought into his life. He gave her his phone, and she punched in Mr. Webster’s number with shaking fingers.

  “Mrs. Hatcher! I was going to call you.”

  “You were?” Webster’s words fanned the dread that always smoldered in her chest. “I’ve moved again, Mr. Webster.”

  “Oh? Let me take the new address. Not having problems, I hope?”

  “I…” Laurel gulped. “Why were you going to call me, sir?”

  “I have news for you.”

  She looked at Dan, and he gave her an empathetic smile.

  “The superior court judge has set a date for a new trial.”

  A lump formed in her throat.

  “Did you hear me, Mrs. Hatcher?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The date is June nineteenth. You will report to Augusta Superior Court that morning at eight o’clock.”

  “Y-yes, eight o’clock.”

  “That’s right. Now, what is your new address?”

  Dan had already coached her to give his own cell phone number and home address. She didn’t like it, and she knew Dan didn’t either, but it was the only recourse to avoid putting his loved ones at risk.

  “All right,” Webster said. “Good luck.”

  “Wait!”

  Laurel was afraid he’d hung up, but he asked patiently, “What is it?”

  “Why?”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Why the new trial?” she demanded. “Is there new evidence? I haven’t heard a thing!”

  “I don’t have that information,” Webster said. “Perhaps your attorney could advise you.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to close the phone, fumbled with it, and handed it to Dan.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “The trial.” Her voice was hoarse.

  “When?”

  “June nineteenth.”

  She sat on the couch and leaned back, closing her eyes. She knew the jury would be strictly charged to reach a verdict this time. The state would not want the expense of a third trial. One way or another, the rest of her life would be determined.

  She felt Dan’s strong arm around her shoulders, and she opened her eyes.

  “I’m here,” he whispered.

  She leaned against his shoulder. “It’s only a month away.”

  “That’s not much time. We’d better call your lawyer. And you need to quit your job today, Laurel. Don’t go to the hospital again.”

  She nodded.

  Donna came to the kitchen doorway carrying her three-year-old daughter. “Can I get you some coffee, Dan?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got to get to work.” He stood up. “We just found out Laurel’s trial date has been set.”

  “That’s good, right?” Donna asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll call Jim Hight from the police station, Laurel. And Donna, I’ll move her soon.”

  “We don’t mind if she stays a while longer, Dan. Really.”

  “No, we’ve been over that. I’m moving her tonight.”

  “We’ll be praying for you,” Donna said.

  Laurel walked with him to the door, wishing he could stay and finalize their plans.

  “I’m going with you,” Dan said.

  “Tonight?”

  “To Maine. To the trial.”

  She caught her breath. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Yes. I’ve got three weeks’ vacation. Might be able to stretch it to four, without pay the last week.”

  His generosity went beyond her wildest hopes. To have him beside her when she entered the courthouse again—to know he was nearby while she waited for the proceedings to begin. To see him in the courtroom as she faced the prosecutor once more. Tears burned her eyes.

  “I’m not asking you to go.”

  “I know. Please don’t ask me not to.”

  She nodded, and he stooped to kiss her cheek before he left.

  *****

  Dan dialed Jim’s number during his break. Hight’s secretary put him through, and the lawyer said wearily in his ear, “I know, I know, Ryan. I heard early this morning. I was about to call Laurel.”

  “The clerk of courts told her. What has the prosecution got?”

  “It seems Lieutenant Dryer with the state police hasn’t been as slack as we supposed. He came up with a few factors that may influence the outcome of the trial. The judge decided it was enough and set an early date.”

  “What did Dryer come up with?”

  “Well, there was some irregularity about Mr. Hatcher’s car.”

  “The Corvette? I knew it!” Dan felt almost exultant.

  “Laurel tried to claim it after Bob died. We filed a civil suit, trying to get her personal belongings back and get a settlement on the house and contents. Wayne and Renata Hatcher are trying to use that to show Laurel was tired of the marriage and killed him for his money.”

  “That’s old.” Dan ran a hand through his hair.

  “I know, but this civil suit is becoming an issue in the criminal case. If she truly loved him, why fight his parents over the house they paid for?”

  “For crying out loud, it was a gift! A wedding gift. Isn’t she allowed a place to live, or income from that to live on?”

  “Take it easy,” Hight said. “I’m on your side. We’re pushing for a fat settlement. Laurel was wronged in this. Her mother-in-law just waltzed in and claimed everything while Laurel was in jail. Furniture, art, everything. That all should have gone to Laurel. The Corvette may be another story.”

  “Why? It belonged to her husband.”

  “Yes, but it was in Bob’s name only, not Laurel’s. Jack Brody claims now it was a business perk, and Hatcher & Brody should ha
ve the car back.”

  “Oh, slick,” said Dan.

  “Something else came up. It’s unrelated to the murder trial, but it may bear on it indirectly. It concerns the project Bob Hatcher was working on when he died—the Maple Grove bridge in New Hampshire.”

  “What about it?”

  “I’ll fax you what they gave me. There’s some question now over whether the materials were up to spec. The state is performing an on-site inspection, and has subpoenaed some documents relating to the contract. I’m meeting with Dryer and the district attorney this afternoon. I may have more news after that.”

  “All right, but make sure you send me everything, Hight. Every shred.”

  “At Mrs. Hatcher’s request?”

  “Naturally.”

  “How did she take the news?” Hight asked.

  “She’s a bit shaken up by it. I’m coming with her to Maine.”

  “Thought you might. When will you arrive?” Hight sounded more affable than before.

  “As soon as possible. We’ll let you know.”

  “All right. I’ll put my investigator on these new concerns right away, but I could use another man.”

  “I’ve got the private investigator’s license,” Dan said. “It came through today.”

  “Well, that’s a start.” Hight’s voice held a new optimism. “It’s not a Maine license, but I might be able to get permission to use you temporarily, on this one case. Especially since you’re coming with Mrs. Hatcher. If she officially hired you in Ohio … yes, I think that would work.”

  Dan hung up feeling that at last things were moving. Something was going to happen, for better or worse, and he would stand by Laurel until it was finished. Then they could decide whether they could have a future together. He took a deep breath and headed for his lieutenant’s desk.

  “It’s only an extra week,” he told Lieutenant Powers. “Three of vacation, one of leave without pay. Two weeks to poke around before the trial, two weeks to wrap it up.”

  “What if the trial drags on?” Powers asked.

  “It won’t. Will it?”

  “You never know.” The lieutenant frowned at him. “There’s been some talk about this.”

  “Seems everybody knows about Laurel,” Dan agreed. Jessica had come to him about the gossip in the duty room, and he knew there was no stopping it.