Twenty minutes later, grim determination had replaced the butterflies as she climbed the staircase to the second-floor computer lab at the college. She clutched a bag of fresh doughnuts as she walked to the teaching assistant’s office. She knocked.
“Yep. Come in.” The deep baritone voice had her spine straightening.
She summoned a grin. “Jeremy, I brought glazed doughnuts.”
Jeremy’s chair squeaked as he turned from a desk piled high with bits and pieces of computers. Long black hair skimmed narrow stooped shoulders and framed a narrow face. His large green eyes, accentuated by the blackness of his T-shirt, bulged a little when he laughed. He reminded Eva of a hobbit. “Back again?”
“We bad pennies keep turning up.”
He laughed. “You must want a favor. Another computer lesson?”
Smile widening, she handed him the doughnuts. “No lesson this time. I just need a little computer time.”
He dug a doughnut out of the bag and sniffed it. “You know the way to my heart.”
Eva kept her stance casual. “Is that ayes?”
Jeremy bit into the doughnut and closed his eyes in sheer pleasure. “Sure. What are you looking for?”
“Just doing a little poking around.”
“No chat room this time? ”
“Don’t really have the time for it now.” The chat room had been a fascinating world to her where it seemed no one judged her and accepted her at face value. She felt free when she surfaced. ‘Just searching.”
“Swear.”
“I do.”
“Have at it,” he mumbled as he extended his hand toward a laptop in the corner.
Eva had met Jeremy a few months ago when she’d been sitting in one of his classes. She’d not had much access to computers while she’d been in prison and she’d soaked up all he’d offered about computers. She’d figured out quickly he had a weakness for glazed doughnuts and came armed with a dozen when she picked his brain. Soon she was doing advanced searches on her own and even helping him.
She sat down in front of the computer and typed: “Sorority House Murder.” Seconds later her search gave her a list of choices to choose from.
“Have you considered college?” Jeremy said.
“Sure. But the money is holding me up.”
“You’re smart. I bet you’d get grant money.”
“Maybe.” She’d not told him about the scholarship and now was glad. Explaining why she’d been rejected meant explaining the past.
She selected an article and waited while it loaded. The article had been written over a decade ago and featured a picture of the sorority sisters who had testified against her. Sara. Lisa. Kristen.
They were the key to those missing minutes because they’d been there. They had testified that Eva had swung the fireplace poker and hit Josiah hard enough to kill him. They’d been so certain, so unified in their stories. They couldn’t, wouldn’t have lied. Would they? They’d been her closest friends.
“So who are those chicks?” Jeremy said.
She clicked out of the article, hit the print button and glanced back at him. His lips glistened with doughnut glaze. “Ancient history.”
“The look on your face said otherwise.”
“What’s that mean?” She grabbed the printout from the printer and tucked it in her pocket.
“Babe, you look like you could kill.”
Garrison and Kier arrived at Wellington and James just minutes before six. They showed their badges to the security camera and the receptionist buzzed the front door open.
“Pretty bad when you need security to protect you from your own clients,” Malcolm said.
Garrison scanned the reception area’s lush interior. “Everything has its price.”
The receptionist escorted them back to the conference room where Angie Carlson stood at the head of a long mahogany table. Dark circles hung under her eyes and she stood stiff and straight like a nun ready to dish out penance. “I haven’t heard from Mr. Danvers yet.”
“I have the deal. And it took some doing considering your client’s record.”
“I represented him a couple of months ago. He’s not my client now,” she said. “I called you because I thought he could help.”
Malcolm snorted. “Mighty generous.”
Carlson’s gaze flickered to Malcolm and for a moment Garrison imagined he saw sadness in the icy depths of her eyes. “Would you gentlemen like to have a seat? Mr. Danvers isn’t the most punctual.”
The detectives sat, as did Carlson. She drummed neatly trimmed fingers on the polished table. On the wall, a clock ticked. No one spoke, but the tension between the three could be cut with a knife.
At a quarter after, Garrison checked his watch. “How late does he usually run?”
“It’s hard to say. Let’s give it a half hour.”
“Sure.”
Malcolm settled back in his seat. “What’s your angle on all this, Carlson? ”
“No angle, Detective. Like I said, I thought I could help.”
Malcolm leaned back in his chair and knitted his fingers together. “I find that hard to believe after you put that scum Dixon back on the street.”
A muscle tensed slightly in her jaw. “I’ve no angle on this case.”
Garrison understood his partner’s anger, which mirrored his own. But the goal here today was to get information from Danvers, not get a pound of flesh. “We appreciate your help, Ms. Carlson.”
“Thank you.”
Malcolm raised a brow but kept his comments to himself.
At six-thirty Garrison and Malcolm rose. Normally, they’d not have waited for anyone this long. But this wasn’t about them but the victim. “Do you have Danvers’s last known addre
ss?”
She nodded and from her jacket pocket pulled out a slip of paper. “His girlfriend and he have an on-again, off-again relationship. Give her a try. If I hear from him, I’ll call you.”
He flicked the edge of the paper with his thumb. “Thanks.”
In the car Malcolm said, “She’s jerking our chain.”
“I don’t think so.”
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the brick apartment complex located on the west side of Alexandria, not far from Interstate 95. They parked in front of the building and crossed the sidewalk to the building’s front door, which surprisingly was unlocked. They pushed through the entryway, found the apartment number 3-B and climbed to the third floor. Hard rock music blared from the apartment’s interior. Garrison knocked and when no one answered, he pounded his fist on the door.
“Okay. Okay.” The woman’s voice mingled with a guitar solo. Her voice sounded rough and heavy. Seconds later the music shut off and footsteps moved toward the door. It opened partway thanks to a chain on the inside. “What do you want?”
The woman had a wild tangle of black hair and wore an oversized T-shirt and pajama pants. “We’re with the Alexandria Police. I’m Detective Garrison and this is my partner, Detective Kier. Your name is?”
“Tracy Henderson.”
He held up his badge so that she could see it. “Ms. Henderson, we’re here to see Lenny Danvers.”
She cocked a plucked brow. “He ain’t here.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I’m not his mother.”
Garrison didn’t trust anything Danvers had told him and wanted to test some of the statements. “You bailed him out this morning.”
“I did not. That bastard knows I’m not putting another nickel into him.” The heavy scent of tobacco drifted around the woman. “I haven’t seen him in days.”
“Where do you think he went?”
She shrugged. “How do I know? He never tells me anything.”
“Who do you think bailed him out?”
“Likely he’s got another girlfriend.”
“Mind if we search the place?”
She lifted a brow, her expression teetering between amusement and annoyance. “Have at it.”