"Who was it?" David asked as the phone rang again, with another strange number on the caller ID.
"Don't answer it. Let it go to voicemail." Lauren quickly checked the message that was left and as her churning stomach predicted, it was another news reporter. She filled David in on the first call and noticed his jaw clench. He was generally easy-going and that was the only sign that he was furious.
"First of all, it's ridiculous for them to make any kind of assumption—let alone accusation—and secondly, the kid was just found earlier today. How could you even be on the media's radar?"
"I don't know. None of this makes any sense." Lauren took a bite of the risotto, which was perfect, except that she now had little interest in eating it. Still, she filled two large bowls for the two of them and set them on her small dining room table, along with the parmesan cheese, as David usually liked to grate a little extra on top.
"Do you want some wine?" She asked. But David was already pulling a beer out of the refrigerator.
"No thanks, I'm good with this." They sat at the table and ate quietly. Lauren asked David about his day and her mood brightened some as he told her about the partnership promotion and his annoyingly lucrative new client.
"You'll meet him eventually and understand. He said he wants to have us over for dinner, raved about what a great cook his wife is. She's also eight months pregnant."
"I can't imagine she'd be up for entertaining."
"Yeah, he's a real piece of work. I’m sure that never crossed his mind."
"Well, we'll have to go out this weekend to celebrate. Maybe to that new steakhouse you've been wanting to try."
The phone rang again and they both tensed up. This time though, Lauren recognized the number.
"It's Jack." She said as she clicked to answer.
"Hi, Jack.”
"Lauren, I just wanted to give you the heads up that the media has been calling us asking questions about you. I don't know how it got out that we were questioning you as we were questioning all the teachers, but somehow it did. You may get some calls from them as well, the vultures."
"Thanks, Jack. I already have, actually. It was a little surreal."
"No kidding. Well, it may get worse, just so you know. Until we turn up something else of substance, they don't have much else to run with. Tell Dave I said hello."
"Will do."
"Jack says hi," Lauren said when she sat back down at the table and picked up her fork. She was surprised to see that half her risotto was already gone and she'd barely tasted it.
"What did he want?"
"Just to warn me that the media might come calling. Apparently it's a slow news week."
––––––––
Chapter Eleven
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S
o far, all the forensics reports had yielded nothing but inconclusive results. Jack stared at his computer and frowned. There was something they were missing.
"You really think that teacher might have done it?" Chris, the young redheaded rookie leaned against the side of Jack's desk as the other four officers gathered around. Every officer was on the case, and they were all in Jack's office sharing what little they knew and trying to come up with something that could move them forward.
"No. I know Lauren, and her fiancé is my best friend. There is just no way there was anything going on there, let alone a possible murder. We need someone else to focus on."
"So that's it, we're eliminating her as a suspect?" the older officer, Scott Gordon asked.
Jack sighed. “She's not a suspect, she's a person of interest, and no, we can't eliminate her yet. We have to follow all leads through, regardless of how we feel about them personally. Thing is though, she has no motive. None that I'm aware of. Anyone?"
"Well, she's getting married right? I heard the guy she's marrying just made partner at his investment firm; the guy’s going to be set financially. Maybe there was something going on, she tried to end it and the kid freaked out, threatened to tell people," Chris said and then Scott added, "Sounds like motive to me. Not only would she lose the loaded fiancé, she'd probably lose her job too, as the kid was only fifteen and still a minor.”
“Okay, I still say it's way off-base, but we'll see it through. Let's see what else we can dig up though. I don't want to get sidetracked on a wild-goose chase and miss catching the real killer. Chris, why don't you head back out to the golf course and see who you can talk to there about who they might have seen Eric talking to. He worked there after school and on weekends, right? Maybe someone noticed something, anything out of the ordinary."
"I'm on it," Chris said and stood up, ready to get going.
"Scott, why don't you visit the parents again. Try and get a list of every one of his friends that they know of and as much information on his daily routine. See what kind of changes, if any, there were within the family recently. Lauren mentioned that Eric had been having trouble studying due to problems at home."
“Bill, and Jim, why don't you guys head back out to the crime scene, take another look around, see if we might get real lucky and stumble onto a murder weapon." He grinned at that, knowing it was unlikely, as the area had been combed over thoroughly the day before, but it had been known to happen.
After the office was clear and quiet again, Jack continued to brood. He didn't like this case. Didn't like that people he cared for were being regarded with suspicion, and unless he was able to find a lead in a different direction, things were only likely to get messier for Lauren and David. The timing couldn't be worse given that their wedding was now less than three weeks away. For the first time, he missed the anonymity of being in a big city like Boston. It was easier to sleep at night when a potential suspect was a complete stranger. When the happiness and well-being of his friends didn't hinge on how well he did his job.
––––––––
Chapter Twelve
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W
hen Lauren arrived at school the next day she was dismayed to find several media vans waiting outside the front door. As soon as she approached the stone walkway towards the main door, they pounced. Cameramen and pretty young reporters flew out of their vans and ran up to her, all talking at once. "Lauren, can we have a word please? Lauren, can you tell us about your relationship with Eric Armstrong? Lauren did you kill him? Why, Lauren? Talk to us Lauren!"
The voices tangled together and morphed into a terrifying loud wave of white noise and Lauren felt claustrophobic. She couldn't get away from them fast enough. She kept her head down and ran to the front door. Thankfully, she realized that there must be some rule that they weren't allowed in the school, for as soon as she ducked in the door they fell back, disappointed but still hungry, like wolves all chasing the same elusive piece of meat.
When she got to her office, she peeked out the window to see if the vans were still there. They were. She'd never experienced anything like that in her life, and realized her hands were trembling and her heart was racing. She set her books down on her desk and turned on her computer. While it was booting up, Amy walked into the office.
"Are you okay? I heard those people outside were harassing you."
"Are they still out there?"
Amy pushed the curtain aside and stared out the window. "It looks like they're leaving. Bet they'll be back later, though."
"It's scary. I never could have imagined how it must feel to be mobbed by paparazzi like that. I can sympathize with celebrities that have to deal with it all the time. It's awful."
"It'll blow over. As soon as they find someone else to focus on."
"Let's hope that happens soon." Lauren shuddered and then changed the subject. "I hear they're making an announcement this morning, offering grief counseling for any students that are interested."
"That's a good idea. I hope they take advantage of it. It's got to shake the kids up when something like this happens, especially when it seems so random.”
"I know. I ran around the house last night when I got home, making sure every window and door was locked tight," Lauren admitted.
"Good thing David's been staying over most nights. That must make you feel safer."
"Absolutely." Lauren knew she'd be a nervous wreck being alone at night in the condo. She'd always been a light sleeper and whenever she was bothered about something, if she'd read a scary book or sometimes even watching the news, it could keep her up at night, jumping at every odd noise or the wind rattling against the window. Just knowing David was next to her ensured she'd get a good night's sleep. She couldn't wait to move into their new house. Just a few more weeks and they'd be married and settling in and hopefully, Eric's murderer would be behind bars.
All day Lauren kept getting hints of a strange vibe in the air. There was lots of whispering and muttering as she approached her fifth period English class, the one that Eric Armstrong had been in. As soon as she walked in, the room instantly hushed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw glances exchanged between some of the students. But then the class proceeded as usual and Lauren wondered if she'd just been imagining things.
After class though, when she entered the teacher's lounge she had a sense of déjà vu as the same thing happened. People stopped talking and looked away as she walked in, then a moment later they started talking again, but it felt overly animated and forced. Instead of lingering and making uncomfortable small talk, Lauren quickly got herself a hot chocolate and went back to her office.
Sure enough, when classes let out, Lauren saw the vans pull up out front again, waiting for her. There were more of them this time too. The numbers had doubled as word had quickly spread and everyone wanted to crack the story first.
"Maybe I should talk to them," she wondered out loud.
"What did you say?" Amy asked. She was waiting outside the door as they almost always walked together and today Lauren was especially grateful for her company.
"Would it be better if I just state that there's no story here? That my relationship with Eric was nothing but appropriate—teacher and student—and that, of course, I didn't kill him?"
Amy pondered that for a moment. "I don't know. I think you should run that by Jack and David first and see what they think. There's a reason people say 'no comment' all the time. You know how the media likes to twist things."
"I suppose. It just feels a little like I'm trying to hide something if I won't even talk to them."
"I'd wait."
"Okay, let's go. We'll have to make a mad dash for it."
When they got to the front door, Lauren took a deep breath and then the two of them stepped outside. As soon as she was recognized, cameras started flashing and the reporters ran toward her, screaming out the same questions they'd asked earlier. But then, just as they were almost to their cars with the pack close on their heels, one of the voices broke through, "Lauren, by not talking to us you do realize you look guilty, like you have something to hide."
Lauren stopped in her tracks and turned around but still said nothing. The person who had spoken stepped forward. He was a male reporter, good looking with an air of arrogance about him. Sensing that he'd struck a nerve, he pressed forward, and asked in a singsong taunting tone, "Do you have something to hide Lauren?"
Lauren felt suddenly furious, and violated. Who were these people? She opened her mouth to speak and Amy tightened her grip on her arm, but Lauren pulled away and stared at the crowd, speaking to no one but addressing them all.
"Eric Armstrong was my student. Our relationship was professional and completely appropriate. I am saddened by this loss, but I assure you I had absolutely nothing to do with his death." She spun on her heels, waved goodbye to Amy, then unlocked her car and got in. She started the car immediately and drove off as quickly as she could. As soon as she turned the corner, she burst into tears.
––––––––
Chapter Thirteen
"H
e was killed by a golf club? No kidding?" Jack was on the phone with Phil in forensics.
"Yes, we were able to determine that it was likely a Titanium club, due to fragments embedded in the scalp."
"Amazing you could tell that it was a golf club let alone a Titanium one." Jack was always impressed by the detailed specifics that forensics was able to determine from a crime scene.
"It actually wasn't too difficult. A golf club leaves a very distinct impression in a skull."
"Great. Well, thanks Phil." Jack hung up the phone and called all the officers on duty into his office.
"So, we have something to work with now. Our boy was killed by a golf club. He worked at a golf course, that's a good place to start. Chris you went out there yesterday. Were you able to talk with anyone?"
"I talked to everyone who works there and a few of the members that came through. No one remembers seeing anything out of the ordinary. Said Eric was a quiet kid, and a good worker. He came in, minded his business, did his job and left."
"Okay, well now at least we know what we're looking for. Let's head back out there and comb the entire area for that golf club. We need to search the entire perimeter of the pond as he probably wasn't killed in that area."
"What if whoever did this dumped the club in the water along with the body? Seems the most logical thing to do."
"Criminals don't always think logically. Especially when it comes to hiding murder weapons. That's where they tend to slip up. Let's hope that's the case here, because we don't have much else to work with. If we have to, we’ll find a way to dredge the pond.”
The officers filed out and Jack flipped open his notebook to review everything that they knew so far. Scott had talked with Eric's parents and got a list of all his friends. His parents confirmed that Eric wasn't dating anyone that they were aware of and they didn't know anything about his after school meetings with Lauren.
They weren't too happy to find out about it either, especially when they were told of Lauren's explanation that Eric was having trouble because of what was going on at home. Their immediate response was defensive and they denied that there was any truth to what she said. Essentially, they called Lauren a liar and that didn't sit well with Jack. He decided it might be a good idea to pay them a visit himself to clarify a few things—see what they had to say.