by Unknown
I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes for effect. “Okay, Seth, call her at work. If you don’t want to ask her over the phone, call her to congratulate her on her phenomenal interview skills and ask if she wants to meet you for a coffee after work. Then over a mocha-latte, ask her to go to the movies.”
“This is pretty complicated, and it’s an awful lot of work for a girl who I already know isn’t available.” We turned into the parking lot at school, and Seth found a parking space close to the door I needed to go in.
Trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice was impossible, so I didn’t even try. “Well, I guess it’s up to you. I think you have two options: Option 1 - You can call her at work and ask her to coffee. Option 2 - I guess I can borrow your car and try to stop a bank robber or something. If we get really lucky, I’ll get shot again, then she’ll definitely call you asking for another interview with me.” I could see Seth’s face flush a bright red when I continued, “I’ve got to say, given our second option, I’d prefer you try calling her at work first to set up the coffee date.”
I nearly sprinted into the building leaving Seth to think that one over. I got to the student union where Rachael was already waiting. She was at a table in the far back corner with no one within twenty feet. “Thanks for meeting me here.”
Rachael looked up and smiled, “I saw your interview last night. Thanks for not letting me sound like an idiot and pretending that Paul may not be a murderer. I can just imagine what people are saying about me right now.”
Ignoring everything she just said, I blurted out, “I need to ask you for a favor, but you can’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Sure, whatever you need.”
“I need your driver’s license today. I’ll bring it back to you either tonight or after school.” Without one second of hesitation, Rachael reached down, grabbed her purse from the floor, rummaged around for her wallet, and handed me her driver’s license. “You aren’t even going to ask me why I need it?”
“No. Was that all you needed?” Rachael looked indifferent.
“Uh, yeah, that was it.”
“Okay, don’t do a hit and run or anything. I’ve got to go study for a final.”
Rachael stood up from the table and was two paces away when I called after her, “Rachael, thanks, really.”
She turned her head, “It’s the least I can do. I’ll see you at lunch?”
I closed the gap between us in three strides, “I’m going to cut out today for a few hours, but I’ll try to be back for my afternoon classes. If I miss you here, I’ll bring your driver’s license to your house this afternoon.”
I could see the confusion on her face, but Rachael stayed true to her word and didn’t ask what I was up to. We both walked out together. I went to my first three classes, then looked around for Seth, hoping to borrow his car for my errand. I looked at my watch when the hallway was empty and realized I’d missed him. I made my way to the closest exit and walked as quickly as I could down the hill, around the corner to the gas station. No luck borrowing Seth’s car, but I had the cash for a cab. I looked at my watch: 11:15, plenty of time to get to the jail, talk to Paul, and make it back for my class this afternoon.
The cab dropped me at the visitor’s entrance to the jail, and I was surprised by how long the line was. Visiting hours didn’t begin for another fifteen minutes, but there were already twenty people in line. I paid the cab driver and took my place in the back of the line behind an older lady who looked to be in her mid-fifties. I was trying not to make eye contact and to stay as discrete as possible, when I heard, “I know you. You were on TV last night!” She asserted it so loudly that half the people in line turned to look at me.
Embarrassment flooded me. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of dark glasses and a baseball cap right now! Knowing that I would be screwed if I didn’t lie convincingly, “You know you’re the third person who’s told me that today. I must have a twin because I wasn’t on television last night.” I spoke loud enough so that all the people looking my way would hear my denial.
“Well, you look just like that Lauren Davis. She’s such a sweet girl! Did you see the interview?”
Not wanting to continue this conversation for fear that a guard might get wise to me, “I didn’t watch it, but I’ll have to look for it on the net tonight because everyone keeps telling me I look just like her.”
“Well, everyone is right! You look exactly like her.” Several people turned their attention back to whatever they had been doing before this lady accused me of being me. “So who are you here to see, dear?”
“I’m visiting a friend.”
“I’m here to see my good-for-nothing daughter. She’s twenty-seven years old and doesn’t have the good sense God gave her. She got picked up for her third DUI and is asking me to post bail. I told her I wasn’t going to bail her out this time; at least if she’s locked up she can’t get into any trouble. She’s probably looking at jail time. I told her I’d come by for a visit, but I left my pocketbook in the car.” She really did seem like a nice lady, and, as I looked at the long line in front of me, I wondered how many other parents were here for moral rather than financial support.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man who looked familiar. He wore a gray cabbie hat, and I was sure I’d seen him before, but I couldn’t place where. He was older, very distinguished looking. I closed my eyes, thinking if I could concentrate, I would be able to place where I knew him from. He was standing around the corner of the building watching me. Something didn’t feel right. I glanced into the parking lot and saw a woman for a fraction of a second. It was Rewsna. I raised my hand to say hello, but she vanished. I looked around all the cars and couldn’t see a trace of her. Then it hit me. The man had been at the mall on Sunday morning. I looked back toward the corner of the building, and he was gone, too. The hair on my arms flew to attention, and a feeling of dread washed over me.
The large door opened and a guard stepped onto the sidewalk. In a booming voice he announced, “If you have any watches, rings, necklaces or jewelry of any kind, you will need to leave them in a locker. If you have any bags, purses, backpacks or other storage devices, you will need to leave them in a locker. You may take in only the clothes that you are wearing, one form of state identification, and change that does not exceed five dollars, in a clear plastic bag. When you step through the door, you will be pre-screened through the metal detectors: remove your shoes and jackets, place them in a bin on the conveyer belt. After you and your property are cleared, you will be issued a key to a locker to store any prohibited items. The only items you may have in your pocket for your visit is your state issued identification, up to five dollars in change in a clear plastic bag, and the key to the locker you are using. Are there any questions?” No one had any questions. “You will each be limited to a thirty minute visit. If a guard tells you your visit is over and you need more time, come back tomorrow. In an orderly fashion, we will begin bringing you in one at a time.”
I had concentrated on the number of people in front of me, trying to banish the idea that a stranger and Rewsna had been watching me. I glanced back to see that there were easily two dozen now standing behind me. I was impressed with the efficiency. The first desk I came to had a uniformed guard behind a desk at a computer. She asked, “Who are you here to visit, and please hand me your ID.” I stepped forward, held my breath – hoping I wouldn’t get busted for impersonating Rachael, and answered, “Paul Stratford and my name is Rachael Madison.” Her fingers whizzed on the computer and in less than thirty seconds she returned my (not exactly my) driver’s license to me, “You’re clear. Please go to the next station.”
The guard hadn’t scrutinized the photo by any means. Rachael and I were both about the same height and weight, brown hair color, but I really didn’t look much like her. Each station was very efficient. I went into a large waiting room and sat at a table. Within a few minutes Paul walked through a heavy metal door and looked around the room hopefully. I hel
d up my hand motioning him over.
“What’re you doing here? I was told Rachael was here to see me.” The disappointment on his face was evident, but his voice remained cordial.
“I asked a policeman to put me on your visitor list, but he made a big deal about it. I was worried the jail might be on the lookout for my name, so I asked your mom to put Rachael’s name on the list. I’m sorry I had to deceive you, but I really need to talk to you for a few minutes.”
“Sure, I’ve got nothing but time. What do you wanna know?”
Paul sat down opposite me, so I immediately asked, “Sunday, you were very focused on Rachael. I was wondering why?”
“Were you jealous?”
“No, I was just wondering why you were so focused on Rachael and why you were so adamant about taking her to your car.”
“I…don’t know…she seemed really in to me, you know?” Paul’s eyes weren’t those of a hardened criminal; they didn’t even look like those of a petty thief. Replaying Bill’s words that Paul was a psychopath and very believable kept me from putting my usual faith in my gut. My body wasn’t reacting as it should, no tingles on my arm or the back of my neck. I couldn’t feel even an ounce of danger present.
“Look, I don’t know what you want from me. I saw Rachael and I liked her. I was trying to get to know her when I got arrested. I know you’ve watched the news, but cops don’t always get it right. There’s a reason people are supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. Mr. McMasters always let me borrow his car. You can ask anyone. He was good to me, so was his wife; there’s no reason for me to hurt either one of them.” He sounded sincere, and my senses still weren’t in warning mode.
“Paul, I’m sure you don’t believe me, but I’m not interested in how the car came into your possession or any of the events leading up to that. I really only want to know why you were so focused on Rachael Sunday.” I held his stare and could see the disbelief in his face, as if I were trying to trick him into a confession.
“I’m a nice guy. This is all a huge misunderstanding. Mr. McMasters asked me to take his car for an oil change Saturday: the receipt’s in the glove box. I signed for the car from the dealership. Why would I get an oil change for him if I didn’t have his permission? Call the dealership and ask. Last week I picked it up and washed it in my driveway, the way he always liked it washed, distilled water only. It was in my driveway for three hours. All our neighbors saw it. Seriously, you have to believe me.”
I could hear Bill’s words echoing at me from yesterday.
Paul looked terrified, just a scared kid. Paul’s lip began to tremble, and his face went sheet white. “I didn’t kill either of them. I just borrowed the car. Mr. McMasters said I could. I don’t know what happened to him, but he was alive when he tossed me the keys Sunday morning.”
The struggle within me was incredible; Paul was so believable, so utterly honest and afraid all at once. “Why’d you borrow the Porsche? I mean if Mr. McMasters had you taking care of maintenance a couple days last week, why’d you have it on Sunday?”
“He and I were talking about a party at school that I didn’t have a date to, so I wasn’t going. He said the car was a chick magnet.” Looking embarrassed he quickly added, “Those were his words, not mine. He told me to take it for a drive and see if I couldn’t find someone to go with. I’m not very smooth, so I thought I would try Mr. McMasters’ advice and see if the car could land me a date.”
Although my body gave no indication that Paul was lying, I wanted him to say it again so I could watch his response more carefully. “So that’s why you wanted Rachael in the parking lot, just to impress her with the borrowed car?” Paul nodded a couple times and then hung his head in embarrassment.
“It’s the truth. They were both really good to me. Mr. McMasters and my mom worked at the same company. I didn’t do this, I swear: I didn’t steal the car. I didn’t kill anyone!”
Paul didn’t seem unbalanced, but had I ever met a psychopath? I didn’t want to believe that I could be suckered by anyone, but a voice inside me was telling me I needed to trust my instincts.
“So that’s it? You were looking for a date for a party, and that’s the only reason you wanted Rachael to follow you to the parking lot?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Okay, so if this is all some misunderstanding, why are you still here?”
“My mom doesn’t have money for bail, the lawyer assigned to me can’t see me until sometime next week, so I can’t do anything but stay here.” I could see the hopelessness he was feeling as I turned everything over in my mind.
Why had I been so certain that Paul was a danger Sunday morning and barely seventy-two hours later I wasn’t so sure? I had never been fooled by lies. Was I losing my edge? Had something changed? I don’t think so. All my senses have been dead on. How’s it possible that Paul appeared dangerous Sunday? I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, the tingle in my arms and the sense that evil was near. Had Paul said or done something that triggered it in the mall? No, I got the sensation before he ever came to our table, before I had even met him.
This had never happened before, ever. I had never had a signal from my body overridden by consciousness later. Paul seemed genuine today. He hadn’t been in jail that long, so identifying a plausible lie and being so convincing would be difficult for anyone. He nearly begged me to check his story. He looked scared, not arrogant, not the way I’d expected him to look. I had to be missing something, but what?
After talking to him, I believed Paul Stratford to be one hundred percent innocent. If everything was really connected like Rewsna said, then what was the connection? I replayed the conversation between Rewsna and I; what were her words of wisdom really? Could she hear me now? I closed my eyes and continued to replay them as clearly as if she had been standing beside me. I heard her say, “Stay to your path, Lauren.” I looked up half expecting her to be there, but I was alone. How in the world can I stay to my path when I have no idea what my path actually is? I need to figure out what my path is, then I can figure out how to stay on it.
Our silence must have bothered him. “I would never kill anyone, especially Mr. McMasters. He was the most decent guy I ever knew. I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt him.”
“When did you pick up the car?”
“I was at their house a little before 9:00, we talked for a few minutes, and Mr. McMasters told me to take the car and see if I could find a date for this weekend.”
“Were there any cars on the street that you didn’t recognize?”
“No, but I walked to their house and didn’t notice the street. It’s not like I was looking for a parking place or anything. Mr. McMasters was in his front yard watering his flower beds. He went into the house after we talked and got the keys to his car. That was it.”
“Did you go into the house?”
“No, I had been in there on Saturday, but not Sunday.”
“You didn’t notice any strange cars on the street. Did you notice anything about the house that was different?”
“No, nothing.”
“Where was Mrs. McMasters when you were there?”
“Somewhere inside, but I didn’t see her through any of the windows.”
“Did you see any of their neighbors outside?”
“Two houses down from the McMasters I saw one of their neighbors pulling out of his garage, but I don’t know his name.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“No, he could only tell them that he saw me in the front yard. He was gone before I left.”
“Paul, maybe he saw a strange car on the street or someone he didn’t recognize in the neighborhood. I’ve got a feeling that the police believe they’ve already caught their murderer and aren’t doing the usual canvassing of the neighborhood.”
“Why are you asking me all this? Why are you so interested?”
I started to hesitate and decided being secretive wouldn’t do either of us any good. �
�I get a feeling sometimes about people, and you don’t strike me as a murderer. I want to help if I can, but I’m not certain what the best way to help is. Should I post your bail? Hire you a good lawyer? Hire a private investigator? Call an investigative news program?”
“A feeling? Like what kind of a feeling? Are you psychic or something? If you’re psychic, just tell the cops that you know the truth!”
Trying to beat around the bush with Paul would be useless. I’d just be open and hope he didn’t think I was a fruit loop. “Sorry Paul, it doesn’t work like that, and I’m definitely not psychic. But I did sense danger from you at the mall Sunday. Why would I feel that way if you weren’t dangerous? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“I had decided that if Rachael wouldn’t agree to a date, I was going to go back to the McMasters’. Nothing I was planning would have put you or Rachael in danger.”
“If you weren’t any danger to either of us, I never would have gotten that vibe, unless…” It hit me. “Unless there was danger posed by taking the car back to the McMaster’s home, and I was getting the warning for you, not from you? I don’t see how, because the second we met you at the mall, I was certain that Rachael should stay away from you. I even took her into the bathroom and told her to pick any other guy in the mall but you.”
“A danger vibe, are you serious? Really? What do you mean pick any other guy?”
“Sometimes my skills are helpful at finding people who are fun to hang around with . . . never mind. But if you were in danger and I was sensing that rather than you being the danger, that explains everything. From the moment the police arrived on Sunday morning until now, I’ve not had any sense of danger around you. It was my responsibility to keep you from returning to the house, and I didn’t even see it. As soon as that was accomplished, everything was fine. Oh, my gosh – Paul, you really are innocent.”
“A lot of good that does me here. Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad you don’t believe I’m a murderer anymore, but it doesn’t fix this situation at all.”
“How much is your bail?”