Part 32 (1/2)
”Why?” she asked, instinctively knowing it was something bad. His eyes told her that. So had the insistent knocking at this hour in the morning.
He didn't have to say anything. She knew their message before they opened their mouths. Her head knew it. Her heart wouldn't accept it.
She couldn't bring herself to ask the question.
After a few seconds of silence, Byers repeated his request. ”May we come in?”
Wordlessly, she opened the door for them, then went around the room, turning on the lights. Doing something kept bad news at bay. It delayed what she knew was coming. Someone had died. Someone close to her. If it had been her mother, a call from the hospital would have sufficed. There was only one person whose death would be announced to her this way.
She looked at the sofa where her father had sat several hours ago. In her mind's eye, she saw his worried face, the desperate plea in his voice. A plea she'd ignored.
Finally, she asked the question. ”My father?”
Byers nodded.
”Is he dead?”
”I'm afraid so.”
She slumped against a wall.
”Are you alone, Ms. Rawson? Is there anyone you can call?”
”No. My mother is in the hospital.” She padded across to a chair and sat down. ”What happened?”
”Hit-and-run in the parking lot of his building.”
Her heart thudded so loudly she thought they must hear it as well.
”When?”
”He was found two hours ago. The paramedics think he had been there less than an hour when they were called. So the best guesstimate as to time of death is one to two A.M.”
”There's a guard on duty in that parking lot. How--”
”We don't know. He says he didn't hear anything, but he also admitted he might have taken a nap. He's the one who found him.”
She was numb. Too numb to think. Except of her father's words.
'Do you realize what you have done?'
She hadn't then. She was terribly afraid she did now.
The impact of those thoughts were like a boulder hitting her.
”Did your father have any enemies?” the second detective asked.
”I imagine he had quite a few. Attorneys usually do. There are losers in every case. But I can't think of any who would want to kill him.”
”Do you know why he was in his office so late?”
She wanted the questions to end. She didn't want to think that perhaps something she'd done had cost her father his life.
'Do you realize what you have done'? The words echoed over and over again in her mind.
”Ms. Rawson?”
”I'm sorry,” she said. ”What was the question?”
”Do you know why he was in the office so late?”
”He often worked very late.”
”Do you know what he might have been working on?”
”You'll have to ask his a.s.sociates,” she said slowly. ”I'm not that familiar with his cases. There has been a big corporate case but that's drawing to an end.”
”When did you last talk to him?”
The question she dreaded. ”Earlier tonight.”
”Did he seem worried about anything?”
She hesitated, then said, ”I need coffee.”
She really needed time. To think. To decide what to say.
Byers nodded. Nicky, who hadn't wandered farther than a few inches from her feet, went with her to the kitchen. Byers followed. Mechanically, she started the coffee.
The phone rang, and Gage rolled over to his bedside table.
He had been up until three this morning, following up on the Starnes case. He looked at the clock and groaned.
'Five.'
Less than two hours' sleep.
He picked up the phone receiver.
”You left too early, partner.”
”What do you mean?”
”Charles Rawson was just found. Dead.”
Gage sat up with a jolt. ”What did you say?”
”Prominent New Orleans attorney Charles Rawson just bit the dust. A hit-and-run in his building's garage. Strange that his daughter was a murder witness yesterday, huh?”
”Christ,” Gage said. ”Who has the case?”