****
I awoke to a bright sunny day, at nearly 10:00 a.m. and knew it was time to face my parents’ inquisition. To my great relief, both were gone; neither were anywhere in the house, and neither had left a note for me. The same news van from last night set across the street, but I still saw no one anywhere near it. In the light I could see that it had a flat tire. It must have been abandoned when they couldn’t drive it back to the news station yesterday. Hoping that my day was no longer the top story, I flipped on the television and found the local news. Sure enough, there had been a huge earthquake on the west coast, and all news stations were getting reports from their affiliates. By tomorrow no one would even give me a second thought again, thank goodness!
I began to get ready for my interview with Officer Johnson. I was drying my hair when I noticed a tow truck pull up in front of the news van across the street. That seemed a little extreme for a flat tire. As the hair dryer drowned out all other sounds, I watched two women get out of the tow truck.
In large flowing letters, the tow truck advertised, “Tonya’s Towing.” The driver of the tow truck looked to be in her early thirties, wearing coveralls and sporting unruly hair under a baseball cap. She opened a large metal tool box on the back of the tow truck, pulling out a hydraulic jack and bar in one hand and a tire out of the back of the truck with her other arm. I grinned to myself when I thought of this woman surprising an unsuspecting man in a dark alley somewhere. By her appearance alone and the way she muscled the equipment around, she could hold her own in any situation.
The woman who exited the passenger side of the tow truck was a stark contrast to Tonya. She wore a brown business suit that was precisely tailored to her body. Her auburn hair fell just below her shoulders, and the colors flattered her ivory skin. She held a cell phone to her ear, engrossed in a conversation that I couldn’t hear, but as she spoke she was jotting notes into a small note pad balanced on the hood of the truck.
The passenger exuded self-confidence, almost a radiance. She smiled and nodded while speaking into the phone, as if whomever she was speaking to was directly in front of her, carrying on a normal conversation. It was impossible not to watch this woman. She looked to be in her early twenties; after easily two minutes of staring at her, I caught myself and suddenly felt as though I were intruding. What a strange thought. It’s not as if I had binoculars and was looking into high rise apartments. I was simply looking out the window, but the draw to continue to survey her every movement was uncanny.
I felt my hair and realized it was now completely dry, so continuing to watch the activity across the street was simply voyeuristic on my part. I abandoned the window and went to my room to get dressed and ready.
The doorbell rang, and I looked at the clock on the wall: 10:50. It was a good thing I had gotten ready early; my ride seemed to have been in a bigger hurry than I was. I ran down the steps, two at a time. I opened the door, started to step through to the awaiting squad car, when I realized that Seth was waiting impatiently on my doorstep. A quick scan of the neighborhood told me no squad car had arrived to take me. Seth ignored my confused look, “Hey, are you busy?”
“No . . . I’m sorry. I was expecting a policeman to pick me up. I heard the doorbell and just assumed . . . never mind, what are you doing?”
“Lauren, I need to ask for a favor.”
“Okay, but I’ve only got about thirty minutes. What do you need?”
“Can we talk inside?” Seth looked nervous, and I couldn’t imagine what kind of favor he was going to ask for. I had thought after our conversation in his garage last night that there should be absolutely no question in his mind about my feelings. Without sharing any of my apprehension, I opened the door wider and took a step back to let him pass.
He began slowly, as if he didn’t know how to ask me for the favor. His voice was slow and steady, “Before I ask, I’m going to start with you owe me.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him, as my certainty that this was going to be something I would hate solidified. “Just hear me out before you say ‘no,’ okay?” I nodded, but luckily was only being asked to listen to his request, not acquiesce.
“Keep in mind, I’ve never asked you for anything in the last twenty-two years in general, and specifically for the last four months, so I think you owe me. If you do this one thing for me, your debt is paid and we’re even.” He waited to see my response. Dumbfounded, I didn’t know what to say and was sure I didn’t like the direction this was going.
Without losing eye contact, he continued, “I just met this really incredible woman named Amanda who wants to meet you. I told her we were tight. I told her I’d introduce her to you.”
Amanda? This was the name Rewsna had told me Seth was supposed to meet. “Seth, this doesn’t seem like such a big deal. Why are you acting so weird?” Confusion was paramount in my mind. Why was he acting like this was some gynormous favor?
“Well, the kicker is she’s some kind of news reporter, but she just wants to meet you, and I really, really want to help her. I hate to use you like this, and I have no idea why I’m so stinking nervous right now, but I need your help.”
I knew the last several months had been hard on him, so this didn’t seem like such an unreasonable request. “Okay, well, I have to leave in thirty minutes, but I can meet her later this evening or tomorrow?”
“No, that’s the thing, Amanda’s here, now. Just five minutes, please?” With this final pleading he was actually taking my arm and leading me back to the door. He had the urgency of a Jack Russell Terrier with a ball.
To my surprise, Amanda was the nicely dressed woman I had been leering at through my bathroom window. Amanda up close was absolutely stunning: aside from her keen fashion sense, her features were nothing short of exotic, and I could now see exactly why Seth was so dead set on pleasing her. I smiled to myself when I realized she must get this type of “assistance” all the time. I glanced across the street and saw that Tonya and her tow truck had disappeared.
Amanda held out her hand and flashed an easy smile, “Hi, Lauren, I’m Amanda Lewis from WCSC-TV and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about yesterday?”
Meeting someone and being interviewed are two entirely different things. Not wanting to disappoint Seth, I shook her hand, “Is there any way to politely decline an interview?” I quickly glanced at Seth to see that my response to Amanda didn’t seem to dampen his outlook.
“I don’t have a camera crew or anything; to tell you the truth, I’m not even a real reporter,” she grinned then added, “at least not yet. I’m just a summer intern. When I got to work this morning, they told me to come out here, get the tire changed and bring the ‘dragon wagon’ back.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the news van that had been parked overnight on the street.
“I know everyone in town is trying to get an interview with you, and word on the street yesterday was that you’d left town for a few days and didn’t want to be interviewed. I get that you are a private person, but you have no idea what it would do for me if I could tell my boss that I met you and got an interview, even if it’s off camera. I know you don’t know me or anything, but I promise I’m really a fair person, and I won’t twist anything you say. You could even decide not to answer something, and I would completely strike it from the interview.”
She was very persuasive, I imagine a great attribute for a reporter. Rather than answer her immediately, I looked to Seth. He stared at me, pleading with his eyes, knowing the very last thing in the world I would want was to be interviewed. Before I could formulate an answer, a police squad car pulled up in front of my house. I was rescued.
“Amanda, I really don’t want to be interviewed,” I could see Seth’s expression harden, “but I’ll do you one better than answering a few questions. My boyfriend has tonight off of work. I need to take care of some things now, but how about the four of us,” moti
oning to Seth and Amanda, “go to dinner tonight about 5:00. We’ll get to know each other. Assuming at the end of dinner you still think I’m interesting enough to interview, and I don’t think you’re a ‘snake in the grass,’ we can do an interview on camera after dinner?” I knew I had just hit a home run for Seth, because no matter how infatuated he was with her, he would never have had the courage to ask her out.
“Uh, okay, that sounds great actually. Where and when?”
I started for the police car before she had even finished her question. “I’ll let you and Seth work that out. Seth, I’ll call you in a few hours to get the details. Gotta go.” I was so excited I was almost bursting. I knew this was way more than Seth had been hoping for, and I did like that she wasn’t pushy. I turned around just before opening the car door, “Oh, by the way, tell your boss I’m only willing to roll the dice with you, no substitutes.” If there were a facial expression classified as sheer joy, she was definitely wearing it.
I opened the police cruiser’s door, “Hi, I’m Lauren.”
“Hi, Lauren. Keith said you needed a lift down to the station. I’m Bill Lawless.” I smirked and he smiled back at me, “Yeah, I know, I should change my name.” Officer Lawless had a warm demeanor. If I had seen him out of uniform on the street, I might have guessed him as an architect or a math teacher, certainly not a police officer.
“Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate the ride.”
“Are you kidding me? It is not very often I get to chauffeur around an honest-to-goodness hero.”
“I wish people would stop saying that. All I did was dial a phone. How is that heroic?”
“The way I heard it, you were suspicious of the guy, followed him to his car, got your friend to distract him, and phoned dispatch, then waited for backup. Am I missing anything?”
“I didn’t get my friend to distract him. I just thought he was a creep.” Wanting to make sure he knew I wasn’t buying in to all the media coverage I added, “I wouldn’t call dialing a phone heroic, and I would think a better description of me would be - magnet for trouble.”
Bill let out a hearty laugh again and followed with, “Well, let us know where you hang out at night; we may be able to bring some crime statistics down.”
“Usually, real rough neighborhoods, like the library, Starbucks, and when I really want to live on the wild side – the movie theater.”
“I like that your first inclination was to check for outstanding warrants on the guy. That’s a great way to pick potential boyfriends. Maybe we’ll set up a web site with that type of service in the future.”
Before I had to try to come up with a clever response, he changed the subject.
“I hear you asked Keith to get you in to talk to the murderer?”
Cautious of his forward question, “I wanted to, but Keith said that was a no go.” After five minutes in the car, I wished I had called a cab instead. It smelled of stale vomit, and I’d never seen so many people stare before. I never thought of police as celebrities; it was uncomfortable riding through neighborhoods with all eyes on you. Keith’s police academy idea was now much less appealing.
Bill paused a bit, as if he were turning a question over in his mind before he let it out. “I think trying to talk to him was a terrible idea. I don’t need to tell you he’s dangerous, but…he is dangerous. Psychopaths have a way of lying to you. If you spend any time at all with them, you’ll get so wrapped up in their lies you can’t help but believe them yourself. The last thing you want is for you to become someone he tries to win over.”
“Bill, I appreciate the advice and, trust me, I had no intention of becoming his friend or even his pen pal. I just wanted to ask him a couple questions about yesterday. It doesn’t matter. Keith was pretty clear.”
Keith was waiting outside on the steps for us as we pulled up in front of the police station. I didn’t realize how short Keith was until I was standing on the sidewalk next to him. I’m 5’ 7,” and he was eye-to-eye with me. He was out of uniform, in street clothes, but somehow his posture or facial features still emanated authority. He stood straight and looked to be in excellent physical shape, not bulky like Max, but a lean build with toned arms.
Keith got me a soda, then led me to a conference room. “Do you mind if I record our interview? I don’t have to write as fast if I use the camera.” I must have cringed because he didn’t turn on the camera right away and changed the subject, “Have you had any problems with reporters this time?”
“No, I talked to one this morning who seemed pretty decent. She said she was a summer intern.”
Keith looked at his watch, and I knew my phobia of video cameras wasn’t going to keep him from hitting the “record” button. I took a deep breath, “You said you had some questions to ask me?”
“Right, we should get started.” It was like watching a warrior put on his battle armor. He went from easy-going and friendly to all business as soon as the camera was on. “Please state your full name.”
“Lauren Davis.”
“Regarding the events of May first, at what time did you arrive at the mall?”
“Ten a.m.”
“How did you come to meet Mr. Stratford?”
“He approached a friend and me at the mall.”
“What did he do to make you suspicious of him?”
That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Let’s see, he was across the food court, not looking in my direction, no visible scars, no weapons, no reason to think he was a murderer – and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Yeah, that answer isn’t the right one. “I just thought it was odd that he drove a Porsche.”
“He didn’t do or say anything that led you to believe he had been involved in any criminal activity?”
Aside from my stomach tying itself in knots and my weird danger sense flashing: “Look out for this guy!” Again, that was the wrong answer. “No, he didn’t say or do anything that made me believe he was a criminal.”
“But, you called the emergency line. Why would you do that if he didn’t say or do anything suspicious?”
“You know how sometimes things don’t add up? He was my age, he was at a food court in a mall by himself, on a Sunday before the stores opened, and he wanted to show my friend his Porsche. I didn’t expect for the dispatcher to send in the Cavalry. I didn’t know he was a criminal. I just felt like it was an odd situation, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Had you ever met Mr. Stratford before Sunday?”
“No, not that I can remember.”
“Did you know either Mr. or Mrs. McMasters?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What were you doing at the mall if it was closed?”
I hesitated - this was a strange question. Maybe Keith thought I was involved? “I was meeting my friend Rachael.”
“But why would you meet there if the stores were closed?”
“That’s what we do. The Food Court was open, we were just catching up.” His demeanor and these questions were making me nervous. Why was he asking about me, not Paul? “Am I a suspect or something?”
Keith wore a surprised expression, “No, why would you jump to that conclusion?”
“I don’t know. You asked me when I got to the mall. You asked me why I was there. You asked me if I knew the victims or the murderer. I don’t understand why you’re asking me all this and not Rachael?”
“I already told you, Rachael will be interviewed as well, but we don’t interview witnesses together – it can taint their statements. We need to ask these questions because the city attorney will ask us these questions.” Keith put his paper and pen on the table, reaching over to pat my hand. “I’m sorry if my questions caught you off guard. They really are routine. What you did at the mall was brilliant. I wish everyone…paid attention the way you do.”
Relief spilled over me. I was working myself into a tizzy for not
hing. I took another deep breath, calmed myself down, and answered the rest of his questions. When we were done, Keith opened the door and waved to a uniformed policeman. He told the policeman I needed a ride home. As I was walking out of the building, Rachael was walking in. She gave me a half-wave, but Keith was right there, in the same place he had greeted me, and escorted her inside.
The policeman dropped me at Max’s apartment after a very quiet ride from the station. As I made my way up the steps to his apartment, I started to wonder what the best approach might be to ask Max about going out tonight with Seth. In all our conversations, he’d always politely changed the subject when Seth leaked in as a topic. I could tell he still felt a little tense about the whole Seth thing, but this was different – this was us going out with Seth and a girl he really liked. Max should be excited about this.