Beautiful Triad (18 page)

“Yes. A class or two each semester, usually graduate courses. In the summers I come here to work on my latest book. That’s what I’m doing…well, as much as I can. It distracts me. I don’t know if you’ve heard this but they found Regina’s purse in Georgia. It was discarded in a state park. The police aren’t sure what to make of that, and quite frankly, I am puzzled myself.”

“What about the man Lauren saw?”

Heaton frowned at his glass of wine. “The one who supposedly took out the boat? I haven’t a clue and the police couldn’t find anything. They took the opener and tested it for fingerprints, but there weren’t any.”

In a quiet firm voice, Lauren said, “He didn’t supposedly take it out, Dr. Heaton. He did. Drew didn’t see him, but he heard the boat, too.”

The older man looked instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean to imply you were mistaken, Lauren. Not at all. Forgive me if it sounded that way. All I meant is they can’t find any evidence. They looked at the boat, too, and it was empty and there was no sign of anything suspicious. I obviously don’t always remember how much gas is in Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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either boat, so I couldn’t help them determine how far it was taken, and you said you didn’t see him come back.”

“No,” she admitted. The spectacular sunset outside sent in jeweled light through the tall living room windows, giving her hair a reddish tint over the golden brown. “We went swimming and then came up here. He was gone at least an hour.”

“I wish I could guess who he might be, but I haven’t any idea.

Neither do the police.”

That might be true, but still it was damned odd, Rob thought, in the wake of a woman’s disappearance and her car being found at the house. They knew there’d been a trespasser and no one had a clue who the guy might be. What was also odd, in a completely different way, was how the three of them interacted with Professor Heaton.

From the moment he arrived he settled easily into using their first names, but they stayed formal and addressed him with not nearly so much familiarity, mostly because he didn’t invite it. It wasn’t that the guy wasn’t personable and friendly, it was something else. Rob couldn’t put his finger on it and maybe it was just that college wasn’t really that long ago for any of them—just two years for Lauren—and old habits die hard.

“I’m going to put the salmon and asparagus on the grill.” Drew stood up. He looked a little uncertain, and Rob wanted to burst out laughing. Usually his friend was smooth and confident in every way but throw the word cooking into a conversation, and he froze up like a frightened deer in front of a speeding car.

“I’ll help you,” Rob offered.

“The blind leading the blind?” Drew made a derisive noise. “Hell, fine, I’m not proud. I’ll even take advice from you, Hanson.”

Lauren looked at their guest, an amused look on her face. “The bright side is we can always just drink wine.”

Heaton smiled. “If the meal is mangled, it will still be better than sitting home alone.”

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Rob had to give the guy snaps for being able to be light about it, but once again he felt an odd quiver of unease. It wasn’t like he was an expert on how a person should react to this situation, but though Heaton seemed edgy, it wasn’t edgy in the right way in his opinion.

Of course, how
did
a person act in this situation? It was hard to tell what was right and wrong. He’d heard people tell jokes at funerals before, so maybe this was the man’s way of dealing with it.

Maybe, he thought dubiously.

* * * *

“Would you mind an interview?”

Lauren looked up, surprised. “I’m sorry, what?”

“An interview for the book. We could schedule a time, if you’d like. I tape the sessions usually, so I make sure I don’t misquote anyone or get anything wrong because I did it from memory or notes.

It’s partially for legal purposes, but then again, I won’t use your name.”

Benjamin Heaton sat there, one leg crossed negligently over the other, his expression benign. The man practically reeked of money, she decided, from his Gucci loafers to his expensive glasses, but he also seemed intelligent to an almost unsettling degree.

“Interview me about what?” The question was cautious and she took a quick sip of her wine. It was very good, smooth and rich, the flavor lingering on her tongue.

“Sex.” A faint smile curved his mouth. “It’s the topic of the book.

You are exactly the right age for the chapter I’m working on now. I need to get a perspective from a sexually active woman in her twenties, not just a college girl, but someone like you who is a young, unmarried professional.”

Since at the moment her sex life was not at all the norm, she was
not
a good candidate to discuss the subject, and besides, she wasn’t about to give anyone details even if things had just been still between Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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her and Drew. Lauren gave their guest a small apologetic smile. “I don’t think I could.”

“You might be surprised. It isn’t as hard as it sounds. I just ask the questions I need answered, and if you’ll give me a few honest opinions, it would be really helpful.”

“It would be really embarrassing, you mean.” She essayed an uncomfortable laugh. “I don’t even talk about that subject with my mother.”

“Really? That’s exactly the type of thing I want to know. Don’t worry, this isn’t about the mechanics—we all know how that works—

but more a psychological take on something that affects all of us.

Let’s face it, Lauren, it’s how we all got here. Our parents had to have intercourse to have us, and as a result we exist, and how do we all feel about that? It’s fascinating, or I think so.”

He might have a point, but she was still pretty sure she wasn’t going to tell a stranger intimate details. Much less have them distributed in a very public and probably—if his house and clothing were any indication—successful book.

“I won’t say it isn’t an interesting topic, but I still doubt I could discuss it.” She did her best to look composed and neutral. Out on the deck, she could hear Rob and Drew talking, plus the whisper of a rising breeze through the trees.

Professor Heaton was obviously amused at her reluctance, lounging on the leather couch, wine in hand. “And they say
your
generation is the enlightened one.”

“In some ways, maybe. The sexual revolution is just something we’ve heard about because it happened before we were born, but also, our parents and their morality have a profound effect on how we think.”

“You see, you
can
talk about it.”

“On an intellectual level, maybe.”

“We could keep it that way, if you wished. Like I said, it isn’t so much about the actual act of sexual consummation as the social and Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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mental impacts of having a relationship on that level. What inspires the trust for a woman—usually smaller and more vulnerable than her male partner—to agree to something that would put her at physical risk? There has to be an elemental way a male reacts to a female that sends a signal that he will be a tender, caring lover, not an abusive one.”

It was an interesting question, she supposed, but one she wasn’t sure she could answer. “I think you just…know.”

Heaton leaned forward then, elbows on knees, his face intent. His half-empty wine glass dangled from his fingers. “Exactly. But how?

That’s what I want to know. Those are the insights I need. What makes you trust him?”

He pointed to the deck, two tall figures visible out the open doors through the screens. Both Drew and Rob stood there, debating in their usual competitive, laughing way over how to cook the salmon.

Which one of them did he think he was asking about? He’d probably be astonished to know both qualified. That would be an interesting addition to his book. Talk about controversial…

Lauren said faintly, “I’m not sure I can answer that.”

“Would you be willing to think about it? Not just the question but the interview. I think you’d be perfect, and quite frankly, you are right here, and so am I. How long are the three of you staying?”

“A few more days.” She still felt less than enthusiastic about the whole thing, but if he was telling the truth and didn’t just want the juicy details of what actually happened, maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal. It was a little flattering, actually, to be asked.

“What about tomorrow?”

He certainly seemed determined, and she wasn’t sure how to refuse. Perhaps he was right, maybe concentrating on something else took his mind off his missing wife. Lord knew she’d be frantic if she was in his position and it seemed almost cruel to turn him down. “I suppose that would be okay.”

“Excellent. Let’s say, ten o’clock?”

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Lauren gave a small nod.

Ben Heaton gave her a very charming, compelling smile. “You have no idea how much this will help me in my work.”

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The sandwich tasted like sawdust, but then again eating it wasn’t so much about the culinary merits of fast food as it was getting something in his stomach. Ken Marzetti looked at the last bite, decided against it, and gathered up the wrapper and stale bread and bunched it together in his fist.

“I take you’re heading off to Tennessee?”

He glanced up at the doorway of his office. “Hello to you too, Gonzales.”

The woman who leaned there merely inched her dark brows upward in open question, her arms crossed over her chest. “I caught that piece yesterday on the news. Thought of you right away.”

He made a decent toss at the trash can by his desk and the wrapper earned him two points. “Heaton’s wife is missing. Do you think I wouldn’t look into it?”

“This smacks of a personal vendetta, Ken.”

“All in the interest of justice, Carla.” He plastered a bland smile on his face and his chair creaked back as he shifted his weight.

“You couldn’t prove anything last time.” Gonzales pointed it out with equanimity, still propped up against the doorjamb. She wore a black suit that made her look boxy, but the unflattering choice was typical. Clunky shoes, pantyhose in an improbable shade of brown, and a bad haircut finished off the look, but underneath there was a keen mind, even if she needed a fashion citation on a daily basis.

“Maybe it isn’t Heaton. I won’t deny he’s part of this in some way, but I’ve said all along it’s possible the connection is
about
him but maybe he’s not the killer.”

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“The guy’s poison.” Ken looked down at the notes scattered over his desk. “He interviews a state senator’s bulimic daughter and the girl vanishes two months later.”

“She was a rebellious obviously fucked-up kid. Her disappearance could easily have nothing to do with Dr. Heaton.”

“What about Virginia Marcum?”

“I admit the connection makes him a suspect.”

It sure as hell did. Had the senator’s daughter not disappeared, Ken would never have even thought of some college professor who assumed he could enlighten the world about the way human beings ate, slept, or had sex. However, the day Brittany Lind’s body had been found in the bottom of a streambed, her bones washed clean by the running water— those sad fragments all that was left of a sixteen year old girl—he’d known there was something special about the case. Not sure what it was, just certain in his gut more trouble lay ahead. It had taken him a year and another body to realize Heaton might be a common denominator in some way. The break had been pure chance, one of those stupid things where a remark by one of Marcum’s relatives had sent bells ringing all over the place.

That had been one fateful day, and maybe not just for him.

He picked up a piece of paper and looked it over for about thirtieth time. It described the finding of the second body, this one in a completely different location; a reservoir in southern Kentucky. The corpse had gotten lodged under the spillway and probably would have stayed there indefinitely, unnoticed, except some hapless fisherman actually made the bad cast of the century and hooked it. He had no idea what pound test line the poor guy was using, but it had at least dislodged the half-decomposed remains enough they came up to the surface.

The unlucky man’s lunch had come up, too, when he saw what he’d snagged. He apologized for it four times during their interview, as if puking in a lake thirty miles long would contaminate evidence.

There were entirely too many crime shows on television.

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“Virginia Marcum talked to him about her insomnia. She sure as hell doesn’t have that problem any more. Sleeping like the dead.”

“Very funny, Ken.”

“I wasn’t even trying to be funny, believe it or not.”

“So two people he knows are dead. It happens.” Gonzales lifted a badly plucked brow.

“Two people he knows were
murdered
. After talking to him about their problems. And now his wife is conveniently missing.”

“Is it convenient? For all you know he’s madly in love with the woman and heartbroken. He’s the one that reported the disappearance.”