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Authors: Diana Dempsey
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feet again. “—in private.”
She feared she was the
object of a schoolboy crush. But
Kevin was too old to be a schoolboy and she was too preoccupied to know how to
deal with it. So she caved. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. It’s very generous.”
His face lit up, then
he shuffled backward and returned to his seat. Annie slipped the box in her carryall
and exchanged glances with her mom, who now sported a wry smile.
Kevin Zeering was more groupie than student, really. He showed up at many of her speeches and
book signings, even the ones out of town. And though he’d been taking her classes forever, he never made
progress. Annie had decided he was
the literary equivalent of tone deaf.
Mercifully the minutes
ticked past and she was finally able to dismiss the class. They trudged out of the bookstore
disappointed in her, she knew. It
was ironic how much more excited they’d be if they knew she was a suspect.
Her mother approached
and helped her gather her papers. Annie was overcome by a surge of affection that brought tears to her
eyes. “Thanks for coming today,
Mom.”
Her mother rubbed her
arm. “Oh, sweetie. I enjoy your classes, you know that.”
It amazed Annie how many
of her classes her mother attended. Either she was genuinely interested or she was just showing
support. Either way, it was awfully
nice.
“It may not look like
it but I’m actually feeling better.”
“Well, that’s
good. Why is that?”
Annie hesitated, then,
“It’s sort of a stupid reason but after I got home from your house last night I
saw this TV program that did a story on the murders.”
Annie told herself that
her desire to see Crimewatch was
motivated entirely by interest in the case. She chose not to analyze why she’d
paused more than once on shots of the host. “Anyway, it reminded me that cases do have to be
built on solid evidence.”
Her mother looked
skeptical.
“They do, mom,
regardless how corrupt you think the system is. The cops can’t pursue a person for long
on an entirely circumstantial case.”
“They do sometimes,
though,” her mother insisted. “And
I bet they’re under a lot of pressure. That’s what worries me. They’re
trying to come up with a scapegoat and they don’t care who it is.”
“They have to have
evidence that’ll stand up in court.” She raised her voice over her mother’s protest. “The main reason they’re focused on me
is that I happened to be in the right place at the right time for all three
murders. But that’s not much to go
on. Besides, in the story I saw on
TV, I wasn’t mentioned once.”
Her mother
harrumphed. “Well, they shouldn’t
mention you. Unless it’s in the
context of an innocent bystander.”
“Maybe the cops have
moved on to someone else by now.” Annie shoved the last of her papers into her carryall. “I just wish they’d find the damn person
who’s doing this. It’s so
nerve-wracking. And as bad as it is
for me, it’s twice as bad for Michael. I spoke with him this morning. He told me he’s got a bad feeling. He’s petrified.”
Her mother made
commiserating noises as they exited the bookstore. Once outside, Annie turned on her cell
to check for messages. She froze
midway across the parking lot, her hand clutching the tiny phone to her ear.
“Ms. Rowell, this is
Lionel Simpson with the FBI. Something new has come up and we’d like to talk to you about it. As soon as possible, and at your
residence. We’d like your consent
for a search.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Annie didn’t
immediately return Lionel Simpson’s call. Nor did she race home. She
took her sweet time and she called Michael from the road. “It may be a blessing in disguise,” she
told him.
“Because they won’t
find anything, you mean.”
“There’s nothing to find. And it may get them off my
She feared she was the
object of a schoolboy crush. But
Kevin was too old to be a schoolboy and she was too preoccupied to know how to
deal with it. So she caved. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. It’s very generous.”
His face lit up, then
he shuffled backward and returned to his seat. Annie slipped the box in her carryall
and exchanged glances with her mom, who now sported a wry smile.
Kevin Zeering was more groupie than student, really. He showed up at many of her speeches and
book signings, even the ones out of town. And though he’d been taking her classes forever, he never made
progress. Annie had decided he was
the literary equivalent of tone deaf.
Mercifully the minutes
ticked past and she was finally able to dismiss the class. They trudged out of the bookstore
disappointed in her, she knew. It
was ironic how much more excited they’d be if they knew she was a suspect.
Her mother approached
and helped her gather her papers. Annie was overcome by a surge of affection that brought tears to her
eyes. “Thanks for coming today,
Mom.”
Her mother rubbed her
arm. “Oh, sweetie. I enjoy your classes, you know that.”
It amazed Annie how many
of her classes her mother attended. Either she was genuinely interested or she was just showing
support. Either way, it was awfully
nice.
“It may not look like
it but I’m actually feeling better.”
“Well, that’s
good. Why is that?”
Annie hesitated, then,
“It’s sort of a stupid reason but after I got home from your house last night I
saw this TV program that did a story on the murders.”
Annie told herself that
her desire to see Crimewatch was
motivated entirely by interest in the case. She chose not to analyze why she’d
paused more than once on shots of the host. “Anyway, it reminded me that cases do have to be
built on solid evidence.”
Her mother looked
skeptical.
“They do, mom,
regardless how corrupt you think the system is. The cops can’t pursue a person for long
on an entirely circumstantial case.”
“They do sometimes,
though,” her mother insisted. “And
I bet they’re under a lot of pressure. That’s what worries me. They’re
trying to come up with a scapegoat and they don’t care who it is.”
“They have to have
evidence that’ll stand up in court.” She raised her voice over her mother’s protest. “The main reason they’re focused on me
is that I happened to be in the right place at the right time for all three
murders. But that’s not much to go
on. Besides, in the story I saw on
TV, I wasn’t mentioned once.”
Her mother
harrumphed. “Well, they shouldn’t
mention you. Unless it’s in the
context of an innocent bystander.”
“Maybe the cops have
moved on to someone else by now.” Annie shoved the last of her papers into her carryall. “I just wish they’d find the damn person
who’s doing this. It’s so
nerve-wracking. And as bad as it is
for me, it’s twice as bad for Michael. I spoke with him this morning. He told me he’s got a bad feeling. He’s petrified.”
Her mother made
commiserating noises as they exited the bookstore. Once outside, Annie turned on her cell
to check for messages. She froze
midway across the parking lot, her hand clutching the tiny phone to her ear.
“Ms. Rowell, this is
Lionel Simpson with the FBI. Something new has come up and we’d like to talk to you about it. As soon as possible, and at your
residence. We’d like your consent
for a search.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Annie didn’t
immediately return Lionel Simpson’s call. Nor did she race home. She
took her sweet time and she called Michael from the road. “It may be a blessing in disguise,” she
told him.
“Because they won’t
find anything, you mean.”
“There’s nothing to find. And it may get them off my