Will headed to Randi’s room as soon as he rolled out of bed on Monday morning. He smiled to see his wife breastfeeding little Walden. “Have you seen the doctor yet? Are they going to let you go home today?”
“Not yet, but the nurse says he should be around to sign the discharge order around eleven. Is my mom there yet? She promised to be there when we got home from the hospital and for the first week.” Randi bubbled over with excitement.
“I’m going to run home and take a shower. I haven’t heard from your mom today, but I doubt she’ll be there. She can’t come down here with the risk of an evacuation hanging over our heads.”
At Randi’s look of surprise, Will realized how successful they’d been in protecting his wife from the TMI drama. She had no idea how close they’d come to danger.
“Evacuation? Isn’t that whole mess over by now?”
“It looks like it’s getting there, but they haven’t given the all clear yet. Maybe we should just drive straight up north to your parents’ and stay there for the first week. That way you’d have your mom.”
Randi’s sunny mood had vanished and her lip trembled. “Absolutely not. I want Walden to come to our home so we can be a family, right from the beginning. I’m so sick of this Three Mile Island garbage. You said from day one nothing bad would happen. And it hasn’t. Why are you getting so weird about it now?”
Will tried not to sound defensive or hurt. “It’s just been a rough few days. You might understand after you learn a little more about what’s been happening. We’ve tried to shield you from the worst of it so you could recover from the delivery and enjoy the baby.”
“Are you full, little guy?” Randi ignored Will as she whispered to the baby.
“I’ll be back. And I’ll check in with your mother while I’m gone. We can manage for a few days without her.”
At home, Will changed and straightened the house. He pushed the bassinet into the bedroom where he and Randi slept. Although Walden had made his appearance before Will had assembled the crib, it would be weeks before the baby was big enough to graduate from the bassinet. Back in the kitchen, he washed the dishes Randi had left on Friday and listened to the radio for an update on TMI.
After the end of a song, the DJ said, “There’s good news from TMI. Just a few minutes ago, Harold Denton from the NRC informed the press that the temperature inside the reactor is going down. And there has been a decrease in the size of the bubble. Mr. Denton called the decrease in the bubble ‘dramatic’ and said, ‘There is reason for optimism.’”
Will threw the dishrag in the sink and sank into a kitchen chair. He tried to smile but instead broke down in tears. Cradling his head in his hands, Will released all the past days’ tension and fear as he wept. Raising his head, he wiped his face with a sleeve. For the first time in a long several days, he dared to hope.
Chapter Twenty-three
Alexa rushed to an adoption hearing first thing on Monday morning, so she didn’t get a chance to look at the news until lunchtime. Over a salad at her desk, Alexa leafed through Carlisle’s newspaper, the Sentinel, then pulled up online news on her computer. Looking for references to the trafficking commission report, she came across a small article headlined Intern Found Dead. With a sinking feeling, Alexa read the article about a young woman, interning in the legislature, who had been found floating at the Dock Street Dam on the Susquehanna River. The college student had been a resident of Shipoke, the tiny neighborhood located on the river in downtown Harrisburg. The death was being viewed as accidental. Name was being withheld pending notification of family.
Hoping she was wrong, Alexa worried that this dead woman could be Lauren. She interned at the legislature. She lived in Shipoke. After their interrupted conversation last Thursday, Alexa had tried to get in touch with Lauren. She had left a phone message and sent a follow-up email, but Lauren had not responded. It seemed pretty clear Lauren had second thoughts about asking for advice. So Alexa had shrugged it off, not wanting to make a big deal out of nothing.
Melinda walked into the office with some documents. Alexa looked up. “Did you hear anything on the news about this young woman found dead in the river at Harrisburg?”
“Just that. The story didn’t have many details. Said that they were testing her blood alcohol levels, so it sounded like they thought she was drunk and fell in. Sad thing, a girl so young.”
“I’m worried it could be Lauren Hildebrand, the intern who helped me on the commission.”
Melinda gasped. “I talked to her a couple of times on the phone. She seemed like a sweet little thing. Did you call to make sure?”
Alexa felt like a fool. “Of course. Why don’t I call?” Alexa looked up the number in her contact list and dialed. “May I speak to Lauren?”
On the other end of the phone, a woman choked back a sob, and Alexa knew. The girl in the news was Lauren.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Alexa Williams. I’ve been working with Lauren and Keisha Washington on the trafficking commission.”
“Can you hold please?”
After a few minutes, Keisha’s voice came on the line. “Alexa, I have some terrible news.”
“I saw something in the paper and thought it could be Lauren. Awful to say, but I hoped it was someone else.”
“No. Lauren drowned on Saturday night or early Sunday morning. A jogger saw her body in the river yesterday around dawn. The police contacted me right away. I guess her roommate gave them my name and number. What a goddamn tragedy.”
“How could she have drowned?” Alexa shook her head.
“She was out partying at the Second Street bars. Her parents were coming to pick Lauren up Sunday afternoon, so she and some of the other interns were out for a farewell bash. Her roommate told the police she went back home around one o’clock, but Lauren stayed at the bar. Several other people said Lauren took a taxi back to Shipoke around two o’clock, and she was pretty hammered. God only knows why she would wander down to the river at that time of night.” Keisha’s voice cracked.
“So her family arrived to take her home. Instead, found out she was dead.” Alexa’s eyes filled with tears. Melinda, who had been listening to Alexa’s side of the conversation, sank into a chair.
“Can you imagine having to deal with your daughter drowning? Look, I planned to call you. I know you and Lauren had developed a good relationship. She looked up to you, Alexa.” Keisha sighed. “But I’ve had a lot to deal with here. The police. Lauren’s family. Not to mention the staff. People here liked Lauren and are having trouble coping with such a senseless death.”
“I understand, Keisha. I’ll let you go. Will there be a memorial service?”
“No. The Hildebrands are real firm about that. They blame all of us in Harrisburg for their daughter’s death. They think working here corrupted her. They say she would have never even touched alcohol before she came here to sin city. They’re taking their daughter home to bury and won’t sanction any memorial service here.”
“Parents often have an idealized picture of their kids. Lauren had been away to college for three years and probably shared a G-rated version of life on campus with her mom and dad. She told me she liked to party, and that was one of the things she missed about being away from campus for her internship. But her parents need to get through this however they can. If they need to blame life in the city, that might help channel their grief.”
“I guess.” Keisha’s voice sounded defensive. “But, I don’t like getting the rap for something I had nothing to do with.”
Alexa sensed Keisha was struggling with all of this. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe Lauren’s gone. I’ll let you get back to things. Take care.” She ended the call.
Melinda dabbed at her eyes. “My heart goes out to Lauren’s parents. They say there is nothing worse than losing a child. I could hear most of what that Keisha woman said, and it just doesn’t add up. I only spoke to her on the phone, but Lauren was such a smart, well-m
annered young girl. She just didn’t seem like someone who would get drunk and fall in the river.”
“No, she didn’t,” Alexa agreed as she recalled her last conversation with the intern. She kept thinking about Lauren’s interrupted plea for guidance about something illegal. She decided to call the Harrisburg police and let them know about that last conversation with Lauren. Had the intern stumbled across something that could have gotten her killed?
That evening, Alexa asked John if he could make inquiries about Lauren’s death. She’d spoken to the Harrisburg City detective in charge of the case about the intern’s run-in with a lobbyist and the interrupted conversation last week. “Detective Campbell promised to look into it, but I got the impression he’s convinced Lauren’s death was an accident. That the kid drowned because she was drunk. He thinks she fell in the water. Either passed out or tripped and wound up in the river.”
“He could be right, sugarcakes. I know your Spidey-senses are working overtime because of that senator’s murder. And this lobbyist guy pissed you off because of the way he treated that poor girl. But that doesn’t necessarily add up to murder.” John put the salt and pepper shakers back on the counter.
“I know. I have to admit that the two incidents I shared with the detective―they sound pretty lame, even to me, as a motive for killing a college kid. And I didn’t really know her outside the office environment. Maybe she was a hard drinker. Or maybe she just cut loose this one time and didn’t know how to handle it.”
“Unless the coroner comes up with something during the autopsy. Or some witness turns up to say they saw her being pushed into the river.” John shook his head.
“Yeah. I’ll be surprised if they find anything. I just hate believing a young girl with such potential would die such a senseless death.”
John drew back at Alexa’s anguished tone. Then he hugged her. “You really liked this kid, didn’t you? I’m sorry.”
Alexa spoke a muffled reply into John’s shoulder. “She reminded me of myself at that age.” She stepped out of his embrace. “Except for the drinking and drowning. I was never that careless, even at twenty-one.”
John got a beer out of the fridge. “Like I said, I’ll ask around, just in case there’s an angle they’re not releasing to the public. That reminds me. I talked to some guys from the governor’s detail the other day at that inter-agency training session. Thought they might know something about the Martinelli investigation. There are no new leads. Nobody saw him fall except you and Keisha Washington. Capitol police are stationed at the doors of the Senate chamber on the mezzanine and the fourth floor when it’s in session. But the Senate broke for caucus. Then the senators and staff went back to their offices and waited to be called to the floor. When that happens, the police lock the Senate chamber and step away from the doors. They’re notified before the senators come back into session.”
“I wonder why Martinelli was up there, talking to those other men? Why wouldn’t they meet in his office?”
“Maybe they didn’t want to be seen. It sounds like the entire Senate had returned to their offices.”
“Could be. There are elevators and staircases all over the capitol that those men could have taken to avoid being seen. Especially since the House had left hours earlier.”
“Or maybe they just ran into each other. Although that seems unlikely.”
“I agree. It sounds like they haven’t identified those men yet. I don’t know if they have cameras at every entrance and exit of the capitol. But those men could have come in almost any time during the day. At one of several entrances. They could be staffers or lobbyists or constituents or even other senators. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And it’s not certain that those testy guys were the ones who killed him. There was a long silence before he fell. They could have gotten on the elevator and someone else could have thrown Martinelli over the railing. Are they still looking at Madison Greer’s husband?”
“Word is he’s off the hook. Witnesses put him in Pittsburgh at the time. Plus he knew about his wife’s affair. Apparently, he and the representative had some sort of,” John made quotation marks with his fingers, “‘open’ arrangement. She wanted to stay married because it helped her reelection. He wanted to stay married because of her family’s auto parts fortune.”
Alexa shook her head. “Wow. I wonder if they’ll ever solve the case.”
John smiled. “This is a prominent state senator we’re talking about. I imagine CID is highly motivated to solve the case. They are probably piecing together evidence as we speak.”
“I wish I could be as confident as you are. I haven’t felt truly safe since that night in the hot tub―another case that hasn’t been solved. But I feel in my bones it’s connected to the Martinelli murder. I’m seeing bogeymen around every corner. I told you how I freaked out about two guys at the Grand Canyon. Now I’m turning Lauren’s senseless death into another murder.”
“Of course you’re going to be on edge. But I wouldn’t want it any other way. The hot tub incident could have just been some sort of warning. But you could still be a target. Just be careful.”
“I hate feeling helpless.”
John grinned. “Tell me about it.” Then his expression sobered again. “I’m here to protect you. Just don’t fight me.”
“I know you’re looking out for me. And I’m grateful, John.” She steered the conversation away from their relationship. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
“I’m fine with this beer.” John wandered into the living room, Scout on his heels.
When Alexa joined them with her cup of tea, her heart turned over. John sat on the couch, Scout’s head resting on his knee. Overcome with guilt, she pondered her plan to dump John. He had been there for her through a lot of bad times, and she really cared for him. But he loved her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. There was no way to let him down gently. Alexa made a vow that she would talk to him this weekend. She just couldn’t do it tonight. She dreaded breaking his heart. And Scout would miss John so much. But she felt like she was using him. And it wasn’t fair to string him along.
Chapter Twenty-four
Late Tuesday afternoon, Melinda buzzed Alexa. “There are two state policemen out here who would like to talk to you. Trooper Davis and Trooper Cannon.”
Surprised, Alexa said, “Send them on in.” She got up from her desk to greet the troopers and ushered them to the sitting area in the corner.
From the doorway, Melinda asked, “Would either of you like something to drink? Coffee, a soft drink?”
Both troopers shook their heads in refusal, so Alexa asked, “What brings you here today?”
Davis spoke. “We made an arrest related to the shooting at your cabin.”
“What?” Alexa leaned forward.
“We charged this defendant with criminal mischief and aggravated assault.” Cannon ran a hand over his shaved head. “Over the winter, there were a couple of cabins up at Pine Grove Furnace that had their windows shot out. Then, in early spring, a farmer reported that he’d been shot at while out in his fields on a tractor. We were thinking a turkey hunter’s bullet gone astray.”
“Until the second farmer called in a similar report,” Davis added.
“Where were the farmers shot?”
“In the valley. Not that far from your cabin,” Cannon responded. “But neither farmer was hit. We recovered bullets from all of these incidents and determined they were all from the same gun. We did some legwork at the shooting ranges and rod and gun clubs. Without going into all the details, the path led us to this squirrelly punk named Spanky Fulton.”
“Is that his given name?” Alexa searched her memory for someone named Spanky.
Davis remained professional. “Frederick Fulton is his given name, but everyone knows him as Spanky. He lives about ten miles from you, up one of those mountain roads. Although he’s twenty-one, he still lives with Mama and Daddy. Works at one of the warehouses in Carlisle.”
>
“We think he looks good for the attempt on you, too,” Cannon said. “He hasn’t admitted anything yet. But we found the gun he used on the cabins and farmers. He hid it from his parents in an outbuilding.” Cannon sneered.
“It’s a miracle we found it. The Fulton estate has several sheds, filled with firewood, rusted junk, and used car parts. They say they’re antique dealers, but in my opinion, the parents are just hoarders.” Davis wrinkled her nose as if she were reliving the search.
“I don’t recognize either name, Spanky or Frederick Fulton. But you didn’t find the rifle he used to shoot at me?” Alexa clasped her hands together.
“Not yet. His lame-ass friends and some of his coworkers said that Spanky spends a lot of time going to gun shows. You know about the gun show loophole people use to avoid registration, right? It’s more than possible he could have picked up a semi-automatic rifle there or through a private sale.” Cannon sounded confident in his theory.
Davis continued. “His activities show a definite pattern of escalation. He began with shooting at unoccupied cabins. Then he moved up to target practice on those farmers.
“Finally, he combines his love for cabins in the woods with shooting at people and sets his sights on you. We don’t know if he staked out the cabins and the farmers before the shootings―like he did with you. But it wouldn’t be surprising. Although the farmer incidents were in daylight, we believe the cabins were shot up at night.”
Alexa got a sick feeling in her stomach at the thought of this Spanky sitting on the hill and watching her in the hot tub. “Why would he target me? How could he even find me?”
“We’re not sure. But he’s local. He could know about the cabin. He could have seen you turn back the lane and decided to check it out.” Cannon shook his head. “We’ve already charged him on all the incidents except yours. Davis and I are going to continue to investigate and try to track down the second rifle. We want to charge him with attempted murder in your shooting.”
Dead of Spring: An Alexa Williams Novel Page 18