Chapter 31

  

A long memo from Bud Chekovski sat on my desk when I returned from Karen Milton’s office. It started with his summary of all the conflicting points of view that had been emailed to him from the committee members. He had managed to squeeze what he called “some consensus” out of all our writings and his memo ended with suggested motions for us to consider at the next meeting.

His first motion was to adopt the California policy, “yes means yes,” with consent required throughout any sexual encounter.

The second motion was to create a new position of Director of Sexual Assault and Response. This was Karen’s idea and addressed her hope to be freed of the responsibility for receiving and investigating complaints.

The third described a committee of selected faculty who would preside over any university hearings and stipulated that attorneys or other representatives could be present for both the accuser and the accused, although the lawyers would have to remain silent during the hearing. No doubt, this reflected Shelby’s desire for due process.

The final motion called for a three-person committee of the university lawyer, one faculty member, and one student who would determine the punishment should the accuser be deemed guilty by a “preponderance of the evidence.”

I had hardly finished reading when Bridget Thomas called in a state of what my father used to call “high dudgeon.” Her intense indignation roared through the phone. “Lawyers in the room? To do what? Intimidate the girl? Scare her into thinking she had some lawsuit to face if she didn’t present an unlikely eyewitness or irrefutable forensic evidence? Holy shit, Red, this is awful.”

Bridget went on and on. While I was listening patiently, an email popped up on the computer. The provost had obviously read Bud’s memo even though it was supposedly only sent to committee members. It was clear the provost had little use for university committees when it came to conducting hearings.

Perhaps that’s what he told Virginia Delacroix. Had the provost promised the senator he would put an end to special hearings on assault? Had he promised her he would handle matters himself?

Poor Bud Chekovski. He was in for a drubbing.

The provost’s email went on, “As for a triumvirate debating an appropriate punishment, I regard that as a recipe for injustice. That decision is mine alone.”

I had a nagging suspicion young Peter Delacroix had been dealt with gently, very gently.

I put Bud’s memo back in its envelope, said goodbye to Bridget, and closed my computer.

Home and Joe were all I could think about. Finding Jamie Congers was the only plan my mind could follow.

  

Wynan called from Las Vegas while Joe and I were cooking supper. He was in a hurry to catch a plane back, but told Joe that he had met with his old friend in Vegas who’d persuaded a fellow judge in Reno to grant a search warrant for the Lassiter house.

But the warrant was just for the house and outbuildings, and just for Jamie. No exploring the entire fifty acres or the lake until we had further proof a crime had been committed.

The Reno judge was firm about wild goose chases that violated a person’s right to privacy.

“If we have a warrant tomorrow, do we have to use Shelby’s cut in the fence? Can’t we just drive to the gate on the north side?”

“No. That would alert the owner and give him too much time to either move Jamie…or Jamie’s body. Wynan and I still need Shelby to show us how to get in and we still have to sneak up on the house.”

“I want that ‘we’ to include me.”

“Sweetheart, it’s much too dangerous for you.”

I sat down hard on the kitchen chair. “C’mon. I found the Morgan-Lassiter property on the maps. I persuaded Shelby Vane to help us. I deserve to see this through.”

Joe put down his chef’s knife and came over to me. He pulled me up out of my chair and into his arms. He kissed me and held me and kissed me again, a long deep kiss that usually meant we were about to abandon whatever we had been doing and go upstairs to bed.

“Whoever is on that property kidnapped a woman and may have killed her. I can’t risk something violent happening to you. I can’t even let Shelby come with us past the fence opening. No civilians, just police. Honestly, I can’t, and Wynan won’t let you come in either.”

“May I at least go partway with you and stay behind if you find the house?”

Joe sighed and kissed me again. I pushed away from him. “I’m not accepting sex, even great sex, as a substitute for accompanying you and Wynan tomorrow.”

“Okay. You can come to the property. But you have to stay in the car with Shelby, and if we spot anyone or anything, you and Shelby beat it out of there. Now, how about great sex just to seal the deal?” He grinned.

I gave in. I always gave in to Joe. The man had the greenest eyes and a smile that made my knees go weak.

“Dinner can wait,” he said. “I’ll turn off the burner under the soup while you go upstairs and take off your clothes.”

“Gee whiz, I have to take off my own clothes. How romantic.”

“Okay, wait for me. But remember the last time I undressed you, I got complaints about buttons ending up on the floor.”

“Those were your buttons, sir.” I headed for the stairs.

Once in my room, I said, “I really appreciate you letting me go along tomorrow.”

“Just remember you’re staying in the car. Sweetheart, my responsibility is to keep you safe. You’re a civilian.”

“Rubbish. I’m your favorite amateur detective. As a reward for being good at it, I should be in on the finale.”

“I’m serious. Even if I let you go along, Wynan would never stand for you getting anywhere near that house.”

“You have to get used to letting me make decisions about my own actions. You don’t get to just overrule me because of some stupid protocol. If I was a cop, you’d let me join you all the way.”

Joe was very quiet and did not make a move.

I went on. “I know. I’m not trained. But you can’t take an army of police into that property tomorrow without risking the owner will see what’s coming, and move or kill Jamie, if he has her.”

Joe nodded.

I pressed my advantage. “And we have to cover a lot of ground in a short time. You need all the help you can get to check out that property.”

Joe rubbed his chin. “You make a good point. But I still can’t risk putting you and Shelby in any position to be injured. The man we are looking for is dangerous. You have to promise me you’ll let Wynan and me find the house. He and I know how to use guns. You don’t.”

“Maybe someday you can teach me how to shoot.”

Joe smiled, a wicked tempting smile. “Okay, Sherlock, but not tonight.”

I took off my right shoe. Joe followed and took off his right shoe. Then my left shoe. Then his left shoe. Right socks were next, removed slowly with much grinning. I took off my shirt. He took off his. It was our game, mirroring every removal. Finally, we were both naked except each of us had kept one sock on one foot. We faced each other, standing straight. The first one to touch the other would lose the game. I was as still as a statue. Joe was…well, for the most part, absolutely still. Joe’s smile turned into a wide grin. I knew how to win. I slowly raised my arms up and clasped my hands behind my head.

Joe lost.

And then we were in bed and his soft mouth found its way down my neck to my collarbone and he pulled off my remaining sock, and his fingertips made a slow crawl from my toes to the inside of my knee. Even if I sometimes questioned the wisdom of dating a moody cop, I never had doubts about dating a former basketball player. Those guys really know what to do with their hands.

  

I woke two hours later to the beeping of my cell phone on the bedside table. Wynan was back in Reno and would pick up the warrant tomorrow. He was at Nell’s apartment. Wynan was often at Nell’s apartment. I hoped they stayed together no matter what we discovered had happened to Jamie.

A full moon shone through the maple trees on the front lawn. Soon the leaves would turn a brilliant orange. I lay in bed, one hand stroking Joe’s bare body, hoping he’d wake up and make love to me again. Perhaps it was the threat of serious danger awaiting us the next day, but whatever the reason, it aroused passions neither of us had felt for some time.

  

Jamie

  

Jamie couldn’t sleep. She worried about the not yet empty bottle of tequila in front of the man downstairs. She listened intently for the sound of his chair scraping back from the table, for his steps coming up the stairs toward her bedroom, toward her.

She could not lock her door from inside.

Outside the window, the moon shone through the branches of a huge willow that grew on the lawn. She thought water from the lake must find its way through the ground to nourish the enormous tree. She got up and tried for the hundredth time to open the window and gain access to the bars. There was a slight give, but the window held firm. Maybe if she broke through the glass, he would be too drunk to hear. Maybe if she got to the bars and worked at them the way she had worked on the hole in the closet, she could push them out. And then what? The willow was ten feet away from the house and no other tree was near the window. She would have to pry the bars open enough so she could squeeze through with enormous effort and fall or jump to the ground. She looked down. It would be a long fall. Enough to break a bone or sprain an ankle.

And, of course, punishment if he caught her.

She returned to her bed and found herself sobbing into her pillow. She fought her tears. He was drunk and it was important she hear him if he came upstairs. She had to listen. Listen hard.