He leaned back in his chair wondering why the murderer would set fire to the shelter. Had someone in the shelter seen him dump the body? Or was the killer sending a message? “Any of the residents test positive for accelerant?”
“No. They were all clean. And none so far have any arson priors or reasons to burn the place.” Her Black-Berry beeped. She glanced at it but ignored the caller. “Any word on your Jane Doe?”
“I’m headed to the medical examiner’s office in a few minutes. She’ll be doing the autopsy in an hour. No match on prints yet. And so far no missing-persons reports match her description.”
“You’ve got yourself a puzzle, Garrison. And as I remember, you like puzzles.”
He grinned, hoping to dodge the personal stuff. “Sure, why not?”
She studied him a minute. “That’s why we didn’t work. I’m just too straightforward. An open book. No mystery to be untangled.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Not in our case.”
He tensed, unsure why she’d chosen now to revisit the past. Not sure what to say, he said nothing.
“Have you ever wondered why we didn’t work? That’s a puzzle I’ve never been able to crack.”
It hadn’t worked with Macy or anyone else—not since his wife had died. Life with Susan had been a roller coaster—ups and downs. And in the beginning it had been great. Then the mood swings became more pronounced. She either couldn’t sleep for weeks on end or would crash and not be able to get out of bed for days. Taking care of Susan had become a job unto itself. And still he’d loved her and tried to make it better. They’d been married fourteen months when he came home and found her dead. She’d committed suicide. That had been a decade ago, but since then he’d not been in any relationship for the long haul.
“I never lied to you, LaPorta.” And he hadn’t. He’d also never promised what he couldn’t deliver. A normal life. A family.
“You have a way of drawing people in and making them believe they’re special.”
An awkward silence settled between them. “I’m not sure what to say. ”
Macy usually didn’t struggle with emotions and it surprised him she did now. “Nothing to say, I guess.”
“What’s this about?”
Suddenly she straightened, as if realizing her terrible slip. “Sorry. Don’t know where that came from.” Color flushed her cheeks as she rose. “I’ll keep you posted if I find out anything more about the fire.”
He stood. “Great. Thanks.”
As Macy left his office, Garrison listed all the attributes that made Macy perfect for him. Smart, logical, independent. He respected and admired her, but had never loved her. Maybe Susan’s death had damaged him and left him no good for anyone.
His mind took an unexpected turn back to Eva Rayburn’s sharp eyes and smoky voice, which had remained with him all day. She was like a cool, smooth pond, but he suspected the waters below the surface were deep, murky and even turbulent. But was she a firebug or a killer? That he didn’t know.
A puzzle.
Macy was right on one score.
He liked puzzles.
Butterflies chewed Eva’s stomach when she knocked on the door of Mark Givens, director of financial aid at St. Margaret’s College. She’d sat in on a few classes and had discovered just how much she’d missed college and learning. She’d done some studying on-line in prison, but it had not been the same as sitting in a room full of students or talking directly to a professor. So on a whim six weeks ago, just days before the spring deadlines, she’d applied to the college and to the scholarship program, knowing without help she’d not be able to afford full-time college.
She’d been accepted two weeks ago to St. Margaret’s, but had yet to hear from financial aid. She’d been dreading this visit for days.
Eva pushed open the door. “Dr. Givens.”
Dr. Givens raised his dark gaze up from a stack of papers on his desk, peering over horn-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes to owlish proportions. He’d shorn his dark thinning hair close to his head and his white button-down shirt and black slacks exactly fit his trim body. As always, he studied her as if trying to peer into her brain.
“Eva Rayburn,” she supplied. “You said you might have news on my grant application today. ”
“Rayburn. Yes, I have your file.” He pretended to not quite remember her name, but she sensed he’d not forgotten the ex-con. Few did. He turned to the bird’s nest of papers on his desk and rooted through them. Several seconds passed before he found her paperwork. “Have a seat.”
Eva held the strap of her backpack so tight her knuckles ached. For so many years she’d told herself that wanting too much was dangerous. Much like venturing off the porch and racing to the car before the neighbor’s pit bull attacked.
But in the last six months, she’d found it harder and harder not to want more. She wanted to go to school, wanted a real college education, wanted a normal life. Still the memory of her year at Price haunted her. She’d reached and been punished for it. For ten years she’d licked her wounds, fought off anger and resentment and in the darkest hours of night dreamed again of what might be. Those dreams had grown hungrier and hungrier with each year and now it seemed they were demanding to be fed.
And now she was reaching again. And she’d never been more terrified.
“Has the committee decided on my scholarship?”
He nodded. “You have excellent college board scores. Perfect, in fact. I first assumed the results were wrong but you took them twice. Scored perfectly both times. That doesn’t happen often.”
“I’m good with tests.”
“And we received your transcripts. You earned all A’s throughout your first and only year of college. Excellent essays on your application.”
“Yes.”
“The only thing working against you of course is your criminal record.” He peered over the edge of his glasses. “We don’t get many students who have served time for manslaughter. ”
Eva lifted her chin, refusing to cower. She’d served her time. “No, I suppose not.”
“Your manslaughter conviction gave the committee pause.”
Eva sensed “The But” coming and had to fight a crushing wave of disappointment. She’d heard all the reasons she couldn’t be hired in Richmond or why she couldn’t rent a room. But instead of cowering or showing any sign of sadness, she trained her gaze on his wanting a direct connection when he rejected her. “What are you saying?”
“Your paperwork said that you killed a young man from your college, Price University.”
She’d been up-front about all the details. “Yes.”
“I spoke to the warden and to your parole officer.”
No doubt he’d asked about all the gruesome details that most were afraid to ask her directly. Why did you kill that boy? He raped me. How did you kill him? I don’t remember. They say I hit him in the head with a fireplace poker. Why did you burn the house down? I don’t remember.
She had the vague sense of an old scab being scraped open. “And?”
“Both had very good things to say about you. They believe you deserve a second chance.”
The breath she’d been holding seeped from her lungs. The warden had been kind to her, recognizing her need to learn. Her parole officer had given her used books to read.
Eva nodded, again fearing her voice would crack with emotion. Maybe she’d read him wrong.
“We are progressive here at St. Margaret’s. We’re not a big university but we believe what we do here has value. And we believe in second chances.” He smiled and he held out his hand. “You’re one of the strongest applicants we’ve had in years.”
Hope flickered. For an instant, her future flashed bright and shiny. “Does that also mean I get the scholarship? ”
He sighed. “You did not get the award.”
Her lips flattened as she choked back hurt and anger. “You just said I was your strongest applicant.”
&n
bsp; “You are, and if it were up to me you’d have gotten the money. But we have a very conservative board of admissions. Some were uncomfortable about your past.”
“They accepted me to the school.”
“Yes. You are smart. No doubt. But the committee decided other students deserved the scholarship more.”
Bitterness twisted in her belly. “More deserving.”
He grinned, oddly reminding her of a clown she’d once seen at the circus. Clowns were supposed to be happy, funny creatures, yet the one she’d seen had given her nightmares for a week. “You’ve been accepted. There must be another way to find financing.”
“Without the money, they might as well have denied me.”
“We can defer your admission up to three years.”
“At the rate I’m saving, it’ll take twenty years before I have enough. “ Suddenly the walls in the room closed on her. Her chest tightened and for a moment the crushing confinement of prison returned.
Eva extended her hand, wondering how long her past would haunt her. When did people forget about the past and just let you live? “Right. Thanks.”
His smooth palm wrapped around her hand. “If it means anything, you had my vote.”
“You’re not on the committee.”
“No.”
“Right. Thanks.”
Eva pulled her hand free and left his office. As she climbed down the building’s stairs she could feel her anger growing. For so long she’d refused to dream or want. And now that she had opened the door to the future, her past had again slammed the door in her face.
She paused at the bottom of the stairwell, her hand on the door. She’d been branded a murderer and done her time for the crime. But in those lost moments, doubt taunted her. Are you sure you killed him? Are you sure?
For so long, she’d simply accepted. But acceptance had not only cost her ten years, it had also gnawed into her future. The time had come to reach into the shadows and embrace doubt. Good or bad, she needed to know what happened in the moments leading up to Josiah’s death.
Eva yanked open the door, wincing as bright sunshine slammed her. She had to pause, as her eyes adjusted to the harsh glare. When her vision cleared, she headed for her truck, her long strides determined.