So she’d been right about the timing then, she thought. “Between us?” she asked.
“No, no,” he said. “It happened when you went to the ladies’ room. A couple that Allison and I used to spend time with came into the restaurant. I was never crazy about them, but the woman was a friend of Allison’s from high school and the two of them became tight again when we moved back East. I waved to them from the table—I was about to get up to go over and say hi—and they just completely ignored me. Made eye contact and looked away very intentionally.”
“Was it because they’d seen you with me, do you think?”
“No, you were in the restroom when they walked in. I’m pretty sure Allison badmouthed me to this woman right before she died. Allison grew very bitter as her illness advanced, and though I couldn’t blame her, it was tough to live with. Her take was that our marriage was on the rocks because of me—that I had just announced one day I was bailing. And that I was sticking around through her illness just to make myself look good.”
“I’m sure when I came down and joined you at the table, it only made things worse.”
“Probably. Right after you showed up, they paid for their half-finished drinks and left. I’m sorry I let it get to me. The whole situation with Allison sometimes comes back to haunt me.”
“I can understand. I’ve been dragging around plenty of baggage myself this fall.”
“Speaking of baggage,” Duncan said. “I want you to come stay with me tonight. I don’t like the idea of you being here on your own.”
“That would be great, actually,” Phoebe said. And she knew she was feeling more than just relief over not having to stay in her house alone, checking and rechecking every entry point. Things seemed back to normal with Duncan, and that, she realized, was something she hadn’t thought would happen. “Let me just round up my toothbrush and a change of clothes.”
“Why don’t you plan to stay for at least a couple of nights? I think it would be smart to hang out with me till the cops have caught this maniac, or at least have more information.” Phoebe agreed.
In her office, she grabbed her laptop and with her good hand stuffed a tote bag with files she would need for class as well as her notes from Wesley and the copy she’d made of Hutch’s. Her eyes roamed toward the back of the table where the file of inspirational clippings for her next book sat forlornly. She started to reach for it but then stopped herself. Who the hell am I kidding? she thought.
Next Phoebe hurried upstairs, took an overnight bag down from the top shelf of the closet, and tossed a few days’ worth of clothes in it.
She followed Duncan to his house in her car so that she’d have it. Duncan kept his speed at around thirty, making it easy to follow him. When she arrived at his house, she felt suddenly exhausted and dressed for bed immediately. With her arm starting to ache, she popped one of the painkillers she’d been given. As she crawled into bed, Duncan slipped into the room and sat down next to her.
“I’m going to read in the next room for a while, but just give me a shout if you need anything,” he said.
She slept deeply that night, stirring just once. When she woke in the morning, her brain felt sodden, as if it had been packed with wet towels. She was afraid she’d missed Duncan, that he must have already headed to class, but just as she inched her way into a sitting position, he popped into the room, carrying a mug with steam coming off the top.
“I heard you stirring, so I thought you might be ready for coffee.”
“Oh, that’s great. I still feel a little drugged out. Back to straight over-the-counter meds today.” She took a sip. “You don’t have a class this morning?”
“Not till ten, but I’m going to head out in a second to check on things at the lab. There’s stuff in the fridge for lunch. Can you think of anything else you may need?”
“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll drop by campus at some point but probably hole up here for the day and rest.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, and with a firm stroke of his hand, brushed Phoebe’s hair from her forehead. Then he leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.
“By the way, don’t even think about making dinner,” Duncan said. “I already have a plan for that.”
Two minutes later she heard his car pull out of the driveway. Somehow Duncan’s presence had helped keep her grief at bay, but as soon as she was alone again, it was back. She had known Hutch only briefly, but she had liked him, had even imagined herself staying in touch with him through the school year, sharing the occasional cup of coffee. There was no escaping the fact that she could be partly to blame for his death. If she hadn’t solicited his help, he may not have been murdered.
Her mind kept whipping back to the sight of Hutch dead, his face horribly battered. It was terrible to imagine his last moments and the pain he must have felt from those blows. Phoebe focused for the first time since that night of the rough, gray wood slivers protruding from Hutch’s face. Had the killer used a piece of firewood as a weapon? she wondered suddenly. If that was the case, it seemed to suggest that the murderer hadn’t arrived at Hutch’s cabin with the express purpose of killing him.
So what did that mean? She’d surmised before that Hutch must have tipped off the killer—in person or by phone. But maybe Hutch hadn’t said anything too specific; perhaps he had just hinted at his suspicions. So the person—or persons—had tracked down Hutch’s address and dropped in on him, probably catching Hutch totally off guard. In the conversation that ensued, Hutch might have elaborated on what he knew, trying to flush the person out. And he could have overestimated his ability to control the situation.
The fact that the killer had parked his car elsewhere reflected a need for secrecy, so even if murder hadn’t been premeditated, the person wanted to be sure his—or her—car wasn’t spotted at the cabin by anyone.
After summoning her strength, Phoebe finally propelled herself out of bed. As she drank another cup of coffee, her phone rang from inside her purse.
“Where the heck are you?” Glenda demanded before Phoebe could even get a hello out. Glenda sounded more worried than miffed.
“You went by my house?”
“I’m out front now. I pounded on the door, but there’s no answer.”
I’m busted, Phoebe thought. Now I have to spill about Duncan, and she’s going to be mad that I’ve kept this from her.
“I’m not there. I’m—I’m at someone else’s house. A guy’s.”
Glenda snickered good-naturedly.
“Did you pick up some cute doc at the hospital?” she asked. “I have to say that those tread marks on your face haven’t managed to make a dent in your looks.”
“No, not a doctor. It’s someone from Lyle. He came by last night and suggested I stay with him for a few days.”
“You’re dating a townie?”
“No, I mean Lyle College. We’ve only had a few dates, and I’ve been meaning to fill you in, but there’s always been something more pressing to deal with these days. You aren’t pissed, are you?”
“Of course not—unless it’s my husband, of course. You gonna tell me who?”
“Duncan Shaw. I met him on a committee. He’s in the psych—”
“Yeah, of course I’m familiar with him.”
There’d been something abrupt in Glenda’s tone that perturbed Phoebe. She wasn’t sure if it reflected Glenda’s views of Duncan or the fact that she’d been left in the dark.
“You don’t sound that tickled,” Phoebe said.
Glenda waited a half beat before answering.
“No, I hear great things about him as a teacher. The kids love him. I—I just don’t know him socially. But I’m glad you’ve got someone now. This is a time when you could really use a safe haven—and a warm body, too.”