Trust (16 page)

"So that's it? I just go home now?" Lauren asked. It was all so overwhelming and still so early in the day, not even 1:00 p.m. yet.

"That's it. You might want to get some lunch, but yes, now we wait." Evan waved goodbye as he got into his silver Mercedes sedan and pulled out of the lot. Lauren and David just stood there, watching Evan drive away and then looked at each other.

"I don't want to go home yet, do you?” David asked. “Let's go grab some lunch, pretend it's just a day off, get our minds off things for a little while."

"All right," Lauren agreed. She realized that she wasn't ready to go home yet either.

When they arrived home after having a couple of beers and turkey club sandwiches at the pub, Lauren felt full and a little less stressed. She actually felt like curling up and taking a nap. Turkey always seemed to have that effect on her. She fought the urge though, because she knew if she napped now she'd never get to sleep later. David disappeared into the den to check his e-mail and do a little work and Lauren decided to keep busy doing projects around the house.

She had plenty of laundry that needed to be done and started by stripping the beds and throwing in a load of sheets and dirty towels. If she kept busy, maybe her mind would quiet down. She decided to make chicken soup. Mindlessly she chopped the vegetables she’d need for the soup—carrots, onions and celery. She threw them into a big pot along with a chicken she’d picked up over the weekend. She added water and a bay leaf and turned the heat on high, then once it reached a boil, she turned it down to simmer for a few hours.

Even though they were both full from lunch, she knew they'd want something light later.  Around four in the afternoon,, the phone started to ring and she let the machine pick up. Word was out—it was one of the local newspapers calling. She knew the others would be close behind and sure enough, at least a dozen other calls came in over the next few hours. Lauren let them all go to voicemail. One of the reporters, a Barbie something, actually called three times.

Lauren listened to each message once and then deleted it. She found plenty of other things to do—magazines that had piled up and needed to be tossed, bills that had to be paid—and before she knew it, fresh sheets were on the bed, towels folded and put away and it was nearly time to eat again.

She and David sat in front of the TV with steaming bowls of soup on the coffee table and waited for the news to come on. When they said the name Barbie Montgomery, Lauren tensed.

"Thanks Bob, this is Barbie Montgomery, here in Waverly where we're following a breaking news story. Formerly a person of interest, teacher Lauren Stanhope, is now officially a suspect. She was arrested early this morning for the murder of Eric Armstrong, the student who some say she was allegedly having an affair with."

"How can she say that?" Lauren was outraged.

"Well, she's not saying it's factual, just that others are saying it might be so. It's a pretty slippery slope," he agreed.

"Eric Armstrong was killed with one of Lauren Stanhope's golf clubs, her three-wood and her fingerprints were confirmed as a match." Lauren thought that Barbie looked much too excited about this story.

"She's annoyingly perky," she said.

"They all are," David agreed.

"She's the worst though. She left me three messages. As if I would actually call her back."

"I'm sure you'll see her bright shiny face first thing in the morning." David teased.

"Ugh, maybe I'll take another personal day tomorrow." Lauren was dreading her first day back at school.

"I don't blame you, but you may want to just get it over with. It'll seem like you're hiding out if you stay away."

"You're right. I know that. I have to admit, I'm a little terrified."

"You can do it. I'll call Amy for you, fill her in on what's going on and I'm sure she'll offer to drive you in."

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that." She'd thought of calling Amy earlier, but was putting it off. She knew Amy would support her, but how exactly does someone say, "Oh, by the way, I was arrested this morning for murder?"

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Chapter Thirty-Three

A
my beeped the horn the next morning at a quarter past seven and Lauren peeked out the kitchen window. It was already starting. Four media vans were parked outside her condo and she'd have to walk directly in front of one of them to get to Amy's car. She pulled her jacket tightly around her and stepped outside, locking the front door behind her. She walked quickly toward Amy's car and didn't make eye contact with any of the vans. Still she heard a door open and the tap-tap of high heels hitting the concrete, and then that annoyingly perky high-pitched voice.

"Lauren, Barbie Montgomery here from WATV, can we have a minute? Will you  please talk to us Lauren?" But Lauren wouldn't even look up. She brushed by the reporter and her cameraman and caught a glimpse of fluffy blond hair out of the corner of her eye. Barbie was certainly persistent.

She reached the passenger side door of Amy's Ford Taurus, jumped in and locked the door.

"Thank you so much for driving me in today."

"David called me last night. I could hardly say no." But her tone was a little frosty and Lauren glanced at her with concern.

"Did he explain what happened?"

"Sort of. He said you were arrested. For murder, and that your fingerprints were on the murder weapon. It's a lot to digest."

"I didn't do anything!"

"I know. I want to believe that. I do. It's just that I don't understand why your golf club was used as a murder weapon."

"I don't know either. I'm just sick about this."

Amy's voice softened a little. "The thing that really worries me is that if they're going to be going after you this way, with an arrest, will they still put much effort into finding out who really did this? If they can find the real killer it will make all of this go away for you."

"I know. It's all I can think about, and according to what Jack has told us, they don't have any other real leads. It's frightening."

Amy pulled into the school parking lot and Lauren's stomach immediately clenched as she saw the parade of media waiting at the front entrance. At least a dozen vans and even more reporters and photographers lined the walkway. They all screamed out to her as she and Amy hurried inside. She ignored them all, but knew they wouldn't go away so easily, that they'd still be there when school let out.

Lauren went right to her office and turned on her computer. As it was booting up and she took her first sip of coffee, Emily, the school principal walked in and shut the door behind her.

"Lauren, you know I have the highest regard for you, both as a person and as a teacher," she began. Lauren nodded and waited for her to continue. She got to the point quickly.

"I've already arranged for a substitute teacher to take over your classes as of today. I think it's for the best, for your students and for you, if you take a leave of absence until this all blows over.

"David thought you might suggest that," Lauren said. "I agree. I'm sure the parents will be more comfortable, at least until this is resolved and I'm cleared.

"I look forward to that," Emily said kindly. "If you like, I can call a cab for you and have it meet you out back by the cafeteria loading zone, so the media won't see you."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate it." Lauren found herself fighting back tears as she gathered her things and said a quick goodbye to Amy. As she stood waiting for her cab in the shivering cold of the cafeteria’s loading zone, it hit her hard that her life as she knew it was never going to be the same.

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Chapter Thirty-Four

B
arbie Montgomery sat in the passenger side of the van, sipping coffee and shivering with a mixture of excitement. She was thrilled to be right in the thick of this story and her boss had already given her kudos for breaking the former false confession angle. Now that there was a confirmed murder weapon with Lauren's prints on it, they really had a story. Open and shut as far as Barbie was concerned. No way Lauren didn't do this.

Barbie wondered why she'd been so foolish though to throw everything away. She had to know she'd get caught...and what about her wedding? She was due to marry someone in less than a week who, from all accounts, was a really great guy. And the student, Barbie had to admit that part of the story was a little hard to follow.

Unless the relationship with the boyfriend wasn't as solid as it appeared. Barbie knew all too well how deceiving appearances of the happy family could be. Plus the boy was an older-looking sixteen, and from the photos she'd seen, he was quite handsome. Still, that part of the story troubled her. Maybe this wasn't a totally open and shut case. Although, prints found on a murder weapon was pretty damning evidence.

"You want one?" Victor, her cameraman, was sitting next to her in the driver's seat munching on a glazed donut. There were two more in a crumpled bag by his side and they smelled heavenly. Barbie’s stomach rumbled in appreciation. But having a donut was not an option. She struggled enough to maintain her weight as it was. The rumors about the camera adding ten to fifteen pounds? Totally true. She fished a chocolate flavored protein bar out of her tote bag instead and took a bite.

They were one of at least a dozen news organizations lobbying for position outside the school, all of them hoping for a photo opportunity or even a comment or two from Lauren. Barbie and Vic had been there for several hours already. It paid to be the first on scene. There was a strategy to where you parked. You wanted to size up the area and make sure your target had no choice but to walk by you. By the time she finished her protein bar though, Barbie had a new plan.

"Vic, let's get out of here. I want to position ourselves right in front of Lauren's condo."

"But we have the best spot here, we'll lose it."

But Barbie had been thinking, trying to imagine what must be happening inside the school and she realized it wasn't likely that Lauren was really going work today as if nothing had happened. The principal and many of the student's parents weren't likely to allow that.

"I'll bet you a dollar she's out of there within the hour. And I don't see her coming out our way. She got a ride in with a friend remember? Someone is coming to get her, whether it's a friend or a cab and she's going to sneak out another entrance. That's what I'd do anyway."

"All right, let's go." Victor fired up the engine and they eased out of their spot. Barbie looked back, and before they were out of the lot another van had claimed their spot.

"If we hurry, we might be able to beat her home," Barbie said.

Ten minutes later they were pulling down the street to Lauren's condo and parked right in front of her walkway so that she had to walk by them to get to her front door. Barbie was keyed up. She had a feeling they wouldn't be waiting long. Maybe, since it was just one van, Lauren wouldn't be as intimidated and might actually acknowledge them. She'd kill for an interview or even a comment or two, but knew that might be asking for too much. No doubt, she was lawyered up now and had been instructed to say nothing, especially to the media.

They didn't have to wait long. Barbie snapped to attention when she saw a yellow taxicab coming towards them. The car pulled up behind their van and it was Lauren. Barbie and Victor flew out of the van and waited for her to approach them.

"Lauren, Barbie Montgomery from WATV. Could we have a word?"  Lauren stared at them in disbelief, dismayed that they were there. Obviously, she thought everyone would still be at the school. She was clearly stressed and looked like she'd barely slept. She put her head down and started walking quickly toward the door.

"Lauren, is there a connection between Eric's death and the one you confessed to twenty years ago?" That stopped her in her tracks.

"No, of course not!" she said and then immediately a look of horror came over her face. It was clear she’d been instructed to say nothing.

Barbie and Victor moved closer.

"So, are you admitting to this murder as well?" Barbie pressed. But Lauren was obviously already regretting saying anything at all and turned her back to them.  A moment later she was inside. And Barbie and Victor were high-fiving each other. Now they had something. It wasn't much, but they could build a segment, a story around that one comment.

"Smart move coming here when we did," Victor said with admiration.

"Thanks. You ready to head back into the studio and put this together?" They had plenty of time to put something compelling together and it would likely be their lead story. Her lead story. Barbie beamed all the way back to the studio.

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Chapter Thirty-Five

L
auren hurried inside and bolted the door securely behind her. Stupid, so stupid of her to let that reporter bait her. She hadn't said much, but she knew they would create something damaging with it. One simple comment would come back to haunt her. She shrugged off her wet winter coat and shook off her boots. It felt cold in the condo. She always pushed the heat down a few notches in the morning when she left. She pushed the heat back up, flipped on the fireplace and collapsed on the sofa, pulling a soft throw around her. What was she going to do with herself? She felt like she'd lost everything, her job, her reputation, and possibly her freedom, if people believed she'd actually killed someone.

Maybe she should get away, go out of town for a few days, maybe even back to Seattle to visit friends. Then she realized that wasn't possible. One of the conditions of bail was that she stayed local, no out of town travel. And the wedding was this coming Saturday.

As much as she'd been looking forward to it, now she was dreading it. How could they still have it? If they postponed or cancelled, they'd lose everything—it was much too late for that. All the food and flowers had been ordered.  This was a disaster. Would people even still come if they did have the wedding? Would David want to still marry her? Especially now? Lauren felt the tears coming again and burrowed down in her blanket, feeling very sorry for herself. She couldn't imagine how she was going to get out of this mess.