Shattered: The True Story of a Mother's Love, a Husband's Betrayal, and a Cold-Blooded Texas Murder (12 page)

“Are we having fun yet?” Heather e-mailed David at 8:54
A.M
. on Saturday, November 14. An hour later, she e-mailed again, typing into the subject space: “The Truth.” Her message was confident: “I would just like to tell you that I am the SEXIEST BLONDE that is in this NEW building.”

Minutes later, David e-mailed back. By then, he was most likely at the field house, getting ready for a postmortem of the prior night’s game. “Have you been flirting with the maintenance men again?” he asked.

Seventeen minutes later, Heather responded: “NEVER would I flirt to get something I want…that is your job…. H.”

At 11:51, David replied: “You got that right.”

The following Wednesday, Heather e-mailed David at 6:36
A.M
., sounding disappointed that she’d been out and missed his call the night before. “I don’t know what to do about the other situation,” she wrote, referring, it would seem, to Quinton. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings….”

Heather wasn’t the only teacher interested in David, it would seem. Another e-mail came in for David that morning from a woman teacher saying she was sad that she wasn’t with him to see his “wonderful body.” David forwarded the e-mail to Heather with a note: “Thought you might find this funny.”

“I think she is really CRAZY!!” Heather replied.

Five days later, they corresponded again.

“…If you need to talk more let me know. I can always make time,” David e-mailed to Heather early on Thursday, November 19. “If you want me to talk to Quinton, let me know. I can make it so he doesn’t know you have been telling me what he has been saying. I can tell him that I am seeing you away from school, and I think he will back off. It’s up to you. All I am interested in is you being happy. Have a great day, and get those papers graded so the kids can have some candy. Where is my piece? D.”

“I hope you’re talking about a ‘piece’ of candy!!!!!
,” Heather replied. In a separate e-mail, she wrote of David’s offer to intercede with Quinton: “Let me think about the rest…. OK?”

Later that afternoon, more e-mails slipped between them, brief notes that asked, “Are you there?” and “What’s up?”

“Nothing…. Sorry…” from Heather. She had a headache that day, and moaned that her students were getting to her. As always, David made fun of Quinton, this time noting that he hadn’t brought his lunch that day “for the first time this year.” The reason? David ventured that Quinton hoped Heather would talk to him about having lunch together.

“OK…You just made me feel really bad…,” she replied.

“I’m sure [Quinton] knew you weren’t going. He was just hoping. You need to stop worrying about everything,” David wrote in response.

“I’m not…you guys have your cake and eat it too…. Why shouldn’t I…just kidding.”

David ignored her suggestion that she was viewed differently as a woman, instead inquiring about where they were going the next evening, but when Heather pushed, reminding him of what she’d said and adding, “You sure need to keep up,” his response sounded peeved.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

Two minutes later, she e-mailed to say: “Just drop it.
”

That afternoon on the Alief computers, they settled on meeting at Pappasito’s, a loud, cavernous Mexican restaurant, after the game, and Heather e-mailed that she wanted David to come over afterward to her town house. “I just need to talk to you alone….
I am just so worried about my reputation.”

Less than a minute later, David e-mailed and asked if someone had said something to her, and inquired why Heather would be worried if that hadn’t happened.

Heather ignored that question but asked: “How do you feel about me talking to Quinton? Be honest.”

“I don’t have a problem with you talking to him at all. If it went passed [sic] that it would bother me. Does that sound bad? Remember what is important is that you are happy,” David replied.

“No, it doesn’t sound bad. Would you be interested in me if Q weren’t? I don’t mean that to sound mean…. I’m just worried about your thoughts of me…I don’t want you to think I am available to anyone…I really like being around you. As bad as this sounds, I enjoy e-mailing Quinton…You two just happen to be married…that’s what makes everything so difficult. I just don’t want to have to choose between either one of your friendships.”

Four minutes later, David wrote to Heather: “I told you the most important thing to me is our friendship. I wasn’t kidding. I was interested in you way before Quinton was. That has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings toward you. What goes in e-mail makes no difference to me. You shouldn’t have to stop doing that no matter what. I would be happy to discuss my thoughts about you anytime. You shouldn’t have to choose. Are you interested in being with Quinton?” David asked. “Be honest.”

“I am just TALKING to him…I just don’t want to be the bad guy in this…,” Heather replied, then asked, “On what exact day did you become interested? (The minute and hour would be helpful….) Are you and Quinton in the same room?”

“We are on opposite sides of the room. He can’t see me,” David e-mailed back. “The minute I was interested in you was the first day of school. At that point, I didn’t even know you. If it makes any difference, my thoughts of you are great. And I am totally sure that you are not open to just everyone. I totally enjoy being with you, whether it is out or just talking.”

Heather replied two minutes later: “OK…You got out of that one…
”

David replied: “Why do you feel like you would be the bad guy?”

When Heather responded three minutes later, she wrote that she wondered if David could see the e-mails she was sending to Quinton, since the two men were in the same room. “So are you reading mine? He might get jealous…just kidding. They are harmless.”

“As his friend, I am all for e-mail. When he is in the right mood, he is great. He just doesn’t spend much time between terrible and horrible, except on e-mail with you,” David responded.

“You are too cute,” Heather responded. “I am having fun talking to you…. I’m glad I can do such a good service for him.”

At 3:03 that afternoon, David wrote to Heather: “Well, I gotta go and work. Really not by choice. I really have to go check on my kids and actually do some grades. You made my day better. I am looking forward to tomorrow. Have a great night.”

“Bye…see you later…
,” Heather responded. After three and a half hours and thirty-two e-mails, they turned their attention back to teaching.

The next day, the Friday before David planned to meet Heather at Pappasito’s, the e-mails that flew back and forth between him and Heather involved Quinton’s mood. David wanted to know how his friend was feeling, odd since Quinton was in the room with him, and David and Quinton were discussing what they would do during their lunch hour. Despite his proximity and vantage point to judge for himself, David was filled in by Heather, who e-mailed: “[Quinton] is in a GREAT mood, judging from his e-mail…and just think, I don’t have anything to do with it…he e-mailed me first….
”

“So how are you feeling? And, yes, you had something to do with it,” David countered.

“Q is in an excellent mood…but I can’t take the credit…I feel pretty good…. Are you still going out…At least we can talk with ten million people around. I don’t even have anything important to talk about…just can’t ever speak to you at school.”

“[Quinton] seemed to be in a good mood when I talked to him earlier. I’m doing great. I’d love to come over later tonight if that is OK with you,” he asked at 10:25 that morning.

“Cool…I am talking to Quinton right now, too…at least you guys aren’t side-by-side…He said it is hot in his room…wonder what he means by that?????
”