Time of Departure

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Authors: Douglas Schofield
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took pity on him and didn’t come back with the obvious response. I took a few deep breaths while he watched me nervously.
    As I expected, I was starting to feel better.
    â€œTerry,” I asked casually, “have you ever heard the name Marc Hastings?”
    In exaggerated slow motion, his eyes widened. “He was a cop … twenty-five, thirty years ago. Before my time, but I’ve heard he worked on this case—the missing girls—and then one day he just up and quit the department. Moved away up north somewhere.” He fixed an eye on me. “Funny you’d ask.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause Hastings walked in here this morning and asked to see the remains.”
    My head snapped up. “What?”
    â€œYeah. Just showed up out of the blue and demanded to see them. Left about a half hour before you got here.”
    â€œYou let him?”
    He shrugged. “I figured, you know, why not? He’d worked the case for years. From what I’ve heard, the whole thing got to him—girls vanishing, no bodies, no clues—screwed up his head and basically ended his career. I told him we had nothing firm on the IDs. He said he understood but he just wanted to take a look. Put his mind at rest, he said.” Terry stopped. He seemed to be pondering something. “Another funny thing…”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhen I showed him the locket, he got sick. Just like you.”

 
    9
    â€œDo you know how spooky this is?”
    I guess I was yelling, because Annie appeared in my doorway, looking alarmed. I waved her off.
    Sam was still in meetings, and I hadn’t had a chance to report to him on my visit to the morgue. I’d been sitting at my desk for more than an hour, staring at a stack of pending files, all marked URGENT . I hadn’t touched them. I’d been too busy mulling over my series of recent encounters with Marc Hastings, turning them over and over in my mind. Suffice it to say, I was pretty wound up when my phone rang and Annie told me Harrison Ford was on the line.
    â€œI suppose it might seem that way,” Hastings replied. His voice was calm, and he was speaking so quietly, I had to press the receiver to my ear to hear him.
    â€œ Might? You leave me eight missing person reports from a case that’s been gathering dust for thirty years, and less than a week later, two of the bodies show up! Some creep attacks me in my car, and guess who conveniently happens to be standing nearby, ready to come to the rescue? I go to the morgue this morning to discuss a case that the press hasn’t even been told about, and discover that you’ve already been there, snooping around. Who the hell are you, Mr. Hastings, and what are you up to?”
    â€œJust a citizen trying to help you, Claire. I know you can break this case.”
    â€œBreak this case? That’s the police’s job! I’m just the lawyer! You were a cop … you know how it works! Look, I understand! I do! You worked this case, you never broke it, it eats at you! But if you’ve got some information that will help, stop following me around and talk to CID!”
    â€œYou mean, talk to Lieutenant Lipinski? Excuse the language, my dear, but you and I both know the man couldn’t find his ass in a locked room!”
    â€œI’m not your ‘dear’!” I snapped. I wasn’t giving him an inch.
    â€œFair enough.” His voice changed, as if I’d touched a nerve. “Please listen carefully, Claire. I’ll talk to you, and only you. Call me when you’re ready.”
    â€œCall you when I’m ready? Have you heard a single word I said?”
    â€œYes, I have,” he replied. “Now you need to think about what I’ve said.”
    He ended the call.
    At that second, Annie reappeared in my doorway. She caught the furious expression on my face as I slammed down the phone. “Please don’t kill the

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