File M For Murder

I bade him good night, then trudged upstairs to my room. After changing into my pajamas, I read for a while, keeping an eye out for Diesel. By the time I turned out the light he hadn’t come, but I left the door ajar in case he returned during the night.

Restless thoughts kept me awake for a good hour or more but eventually I drifted off to sleep. At some point I was dimly aware that Diesel was on the bed with me, and then I drifted off again. I awoke the next morning feeling logy, but I couldn’t loll in bed. There was much to do today.

Laura hadn’t appeared for breakfast by the time I was ready to leave for work. I was eager to talk to her, but I didn’t want to disturb her. She needed rest, and my questions could wait a while longer. Perhaps by lunchtime she would be ready to talk.

Diesel and I arrived at the archive a few minutes early, and we had a quiet morning. Melba didn’t appear for her usual visit, but I remembered that she was taking the day off. Just as well, because I didn’t feel up to answering questions about the events of yesterday.

At nine my cell phone rang. Sean’s number came up on the screen. I barely had time to say, “Hello,” before he launched into frantic speech. “Laura’s gone, Dad, and she must have left the house before you and I had breakfast. I just tried her cell phone, but she didn’t answer.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Where was my daughter?

And, more important, was she safe?

SIXTEEN

I suddenly felt cold all over. I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths. “Maybe she’s here on campus in her office.” That thought comforted me. “She’s probably so focused on whatever she’s doing that she’s ignoring the cell phone.”

“Maybe.” Sean didn’t sound convinced.

“I’m going over there right now, and I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” I paused for a breath. “You keep calling her cell.”

“Will do.”

I stuffed my phone in my pocket and reached for Diesel’s harness and leash. “Come on, boy. We’ve got to check on Laura.”

Diesel, perhaps attuned to my urgent tone, leapt down from his perch in the window and stood patiently while I buckled on his harness in record time. Once I attached the leash, he darted around the desk, and I had to hurry to keep up with him.

I paused only long enough to lock the office door. Then we scooted down the stairs and out the back door of the building. I jogged as quickly as I could, and Diesel kept pace with me. The walk to the building that housed the Theater Department normally took under ten minutes. This morning I probably made it in four.

I tried to keep my thoughts focused on the positive, but doubt kept niggling at me. Laura had to be all right. She had to.

We pounded up the walk to the fine arts building. Like many on our campus it dated from the mid- to late nineteenth century, its once-red brick weathered to a rosy pink, offset by white windows and doors. I jerked one of the double doors open. I was thankful no one was in my way, because I probably would have barreled over anyone who impeded my progress.

Too impatient for the elevator, I ran to the stairs, and Diesel scampered up ahead of me. My heart thudded in my chest, and the sweat dripped down my face, but I pressed on. I prayed I wouldn’t collapse before I found my daughter safe and sound.

Laura’s office lay at the end of the hall, away from the stairs. I ran down the empty hall. Diesel was still slightly ahead of me. How he knew where we were going, I had no clue, but he was straining at the leash, trying to pull free.

I let him go, and he beat me to Laura’s door by a full five seconds.

When I reached the door, I had to pause to catch my breath. I couldn’t speak because I was gulping in air. Diesel meowed loudly and scratched at the door, which was slightly ajar. His weight forced it open, and my heart almost failed me when I caught my first glimpse of the interior. Books and papers lay scattered about.

I stepped into the doorway and, still struggling to breathe freely, croaked out my daughter’s name. A phone began to ring, and I recognized the ringtone as Laura’s. I took another step inside. To my right, perhaps two feet away, was a wall covered with overloaded bookshelves. To my left was a desk, and my heart almost stopped when I saw a woman kneeling over a body on the floor between the desk and another wall of bookshelves behind it.

Diesel disappeared around the edge of the desk, but I heard him chirping and meowing in distress. The sight of my daughter’s body on the floor terrified me so that I couldn’t speak. Then I could see Diesel, licking Laura’s face. The woman started and sat back on her heels.

“What are you doing?” I finally found my voice, and my legs worked again. I strode around the side of the desk and grasped the strange woman’s shoulder. She turned her head to look up at me, her expression mirroring the fear of my own.

“I’m trying to help her,” she said. She struggled to loosen my hand from her shoulder. “Who the hell are you?”