But Post didn’t show much on her face. It was as if I hadn’t spoken. Her phone buzzed. This time she picked it up and read the text. She thumbed a quick reply, then turned back to me.
“I have to go to the hospital now,” she said. “I’ll follow up over there and put my head together with Detective Richland. We’ll see where we stand.”
“So you believe me, right?” I asked. “There’s something to all of this stuff I’ve been saying.”
She stood up and offered me her hand. “Thanks for coming by, Elizabeth. We’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Forty-three
I left the police station and went to Dan’s house. I’d started driving in the direction of St. Vincent’s, but the day’s events had left me wiped out. I called Paul to check in, and he told me that Ronnie’s condition was the same. He was resting comfortably.
“You rest too,” he said. “You can come here and relieve me later. If anything changes, I’ll call.”
I felt guilty about not going to the hospital, but I saw the wisdom in what Paul had said. If I rested just a little, I could be at my best later that night.
I went to Dan’s because I didn’t feel comfortable returning to my apartment with Gordon Baxter roaming around town. I doubted I could sleep there even if I wanted to.
Dan gave me my space. I was happy to see him and happy to not really have to talk much. He circled around me while I undressed and slid into his bed. In the living room, his computer sat open on his desk, surrounded by an obscenely high stack of library books. The apartment smelled like scorched coffee and frozen pizza. I hoped Dan wouldn’t want to crawl into bed with me, not even just to sleep. I really was tired.
“I’ll leave you alone,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“But just one question. Is there anything else I need to know? Any other revelations?”
“Too many,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little overwhelmed by it all now. And I’m tired.”
He pulled the bedroom door shut, and I was asleep before my eyelids closed. I dreamed of my mother. I was inside a house, and she stood outside. Rain poured down, blurring my sight. Mom was drenched. I worried about her because she was so old. I thought she might get sick. Her hands waved around, trying to communicate with me. But I didn’t know what she wanted. None of it made sense. I thought, Just knock on the door. Just come in.
Then someone was knocking. The light from the other room came through the crack as Dan opened the bedroom door. I didn’t know where I was or who he was right away. A yelping noise escaped my throat.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s just me.”
I sat up, tried to clear the cobwebs away. I looked at the clock. I’d been asleep for forty-five minutes. Ronnie. I needed to go see Ronnie. Is that why Dan woke me up? To go back to the hospital?
“I’m awake,” I said.
“Good. There’s someone here to see you.”
“Someone to see me?”
“Yes,” Dan said. “He’s being insistent.”
I still wasn’t fully awake. “But how does anyone know I’m here?”
“I don’t know. It’s some guy.”
I pictured Gordon Baxter, his heavy bulk leaning against the door of Dan’s apartment, pushing through it. Coming after me.
“Who is it?” I asked, hearing the alarm in my own voice.
“He says he’s a student of yours,” Dan said, barely concealing his disdain. “Some tall dude. He says he’s your favorite student. Elizabeth, I can get rid of him if you want.”
Then it clicked. I was surprised he hadn’t yelled “Hey, Teach” from the front door.
I threw the covers back. “I need to talk to him.”
I started toward the door, and Dan pointed at me.
“What?”
“I think you should wear pants,” he said, his voice dry.
I’d stripped down to my underwear and a T-shirt when I’d crawled into bed. I found my jeans on the floor and pulled them on. Yet Dan was blocking the doorway.
“Who is this guy?”
“He’s helping me out,” I said. “He’s doing research.”
“Is he a grad student?”
“Not that kind of research. He’s looking into Mom’s case.”
Dan looked at me without speaking, then finally moved out of the way.
I walked out to the living room but didn’t see Neal.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“He’s outside. Obviously I didn’t just let a stranger in.” Dan went to open the door, revealing the tall figure of Neal Nelson. He wore a goofy grin, as though it had been fixed to his face the entire time the door was closed.
“Is it safe to come in, Teach?”
“Yeah, come on in.”
He stepped across the threshold. As he did, he gave a sidelong glance at Dan. “Your bodyguard was suspicious of me.”
“He doesn’t know what a fine, upstanding citizen you are.” I pointed to the couch. “Want to sit?”
“Sure.”
But before he could move, I said, “Wait a minute. How did you find me here? This isn’t my house.”
Neal flung himself down on the couch. “Hey, Teach, I told you we were good at what we do.”
“But—”
“You have a boyfriend,” he said. “I looked up his address. Come on—I have more goodies for you.”
I went over and sat next to him. Dan closed the door. He looked lost, not knowing whether to stay or go.
“Do you want to sit and listen?” I asked. “It might not all make sense.”
“Do you want something to drink?” Dan asked.
Neal looked at me, then at Dan. “I smell coffee. Burnt coffee. I love burnt coffee. Can I have some of that?”
“I think I have some dregs left in the pot,” Dan said, disappearing to the kitchen.
“Nice guy,” Neal said when Dan was gone. “He really likes you. Dude, I thought he was going to fight me over getting in the door.”
“He has no idea who you are,” I said. “And I thought you didn’t drink coffee.”
“I shouldn’t. But when it gets that scorched taste, I can’t resist it.”
“Okay. Did you find something out already?”
“Of course.”
“In a day?”
“Teach, we have this thing called the Internet, and it has these things called databases. They tell us most of what we need to know. A few phone calls to some well-placed friends, and we’re there.”
“Okay,” I said. “So get to it.”
“Just like in class. All business. Which lovely do you want to hear about first? Elizabeth Yarbrough or Gordon Baxter?”
“Yarbrough,” I said.
Just then Dan came back into the room with a mug of coffee. He set it on the table in front of Neal.
“Thanks, boss,” Neal said.
“I’m assuming you don’t want any cream or anything,” Dan said.
“No, no. That would ruin it.” He leaned forward and took a gulp. He smacked his lips. “Perfect. I love that burnt taste.” He put the mug down and pulled out his phone. He tapped it a few times until he found what he wanted. “Okay, one Elizabeth Yarbrough.” He looked at me. “A naughty, naughty girl. Two convictions for drug possession and one for DUI. And, lo and behold, once she even took a fall for solicitation. You know what that means, right, Teach?”
“You mean… ?”
“That’s right,” he said. “She tried to sell her lady parts to an undercover cop.” He scrolled through the phone. “Looks like she went through some sort of rehab or diversionary program at some point.”
“Are these arrests recent?”