Wakefield College 01 - Where It May Lead by Janice Kay Johnson Page B

when they’re out promoting the college. Laying the whole thing
to rest would be really good.”
    “There’s not a chance in hell after this many years,” her
father said brusquely. “Take it from me.”
    Troy tilted his head in interest.
    “Why do you say that, Dad?” Madison asked hastily.
    “If anybody had seen anything or knew anything, it would have
come out then. I thought the cops figured it was a transient. Maybe even that
killer they arrested in Spokane a few years back.”
    She knew who he meant. “I’m pretty sure he killed only women,
Dad. Anyway, once he’d been caught he confessed to some murders they hadn’t
known he committed. This wasn’t one of them.”
    “Well, I wish anyone luck who thinks he’s going to try, poor
fool.” She could all but see his dismissive shrug.
    Troy sat up. “Go for it,” he murmured, his compelling gaze
holding hers.
    She swallowed. “Dad, I’m partly asking because I heard someone
say he saw you at the gym sometime in the right time
period. He assumed the police had talked to you, but you never mentioned it so I
was curious.”
    Oh, God—she didn’t sound like herself at all. That had come off
as canned, which it was.
    “What?” His voice shimmered with fury, although he spoke barely
above a whisper. “Who the hell said that, Madison?”
    “I don’t really know.” She squeezed her hands together. “It was
somebody in a group, you know, just talking about the murder. I couldn’t tell
who said it.”
    “If the police start investigating, then that’s who they should
talk to.” Every word sounded bitten off. “The only reason to sling around that
kind of accusation is to deflect attention.”
    Madison couldn’t help noticing that her scrupulously honest
father hadn’t said, I wasn’t there.
    She closed her eyes, unable to look at Troy. “Did you go to the
gym at all that night, Dad?”
    There was another of those quivering silences, this one raising
goose bumps on her arms.
    “You know me better than that,” he said harshly. “At least, I’d
like to think you do. No, the police didn’t talk to me. They had no reason
to.”
    “I wasn’t accusing you.” The quaver in her voice made her mad.
She had always quailed before her father’s usually quiet, scathing anger, and
she despised herself for it.
    His anger was quiet, she reminded
herself. Guy Laclaire had a biting tongue, but he had never been violent. Never
even threatened violence. As Dad would put it, he might have chewed Mitch King a
new one, but he certainly wouldn’t have bludgeoned him.
    Not my father.
    “It’s a mistake to reopen that case,” he said with finality.
“If anyone asks you, that’s what you’ll tell them. I have calls to make,
Madison. Glad this thing went off well for you. I only hope it didn’t stir up
crap that had settled at the bottom where it belonged.”
    She barely had a chance to say goodbye before he ended the
call. After a moment, she leaned forward and hung up her phone. Then,
reluctantly, she raised her gaze to meet Troy’s.
    * * *
    H E FELT LIKE an asshole. Damn, Troy thought. He should have followed his first
instinct and taken his father’s testimony-from-the-grave to Davidson. He should
never have involved Madison, who looked miserable.
    My doing.
    Yeah, hindsight was a wonderful thing, he thought sardonically.
Too little, too late.
    “This is hard on you. I shouldn’t have asked you to call
him.”
    “I offered. I wanted to,” she reminded him.
    “Did you?”
    “I wanted...” What she wanted died unspoken.
    “To turn suspicion from your father. I know.” He hesitated. Say it. “I’m not so sure we managed that.”
    Alarm flashed in her pretty brown eyes. “What do you mean?”
    “You know what I mean,” Troy said, as gently as he could. “Your
dad worked around the question real hard. He never said, ‘Hell no, I wasn’t
anywhere near McKenna Center that night.’” Troy held her eyes. “You were right.
He is an honest