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Cheryl Beth sat upright.
“It started about a month ago. She told me this creep came onto her in a bar and she tried to give him a nice brush-off and he wouldn’t go. She finally ended up leaving, getting in her car, and driving off with the guy standing on the curb watching her. Then she started seeing him on campus. He’d follow her at a distance, but she knew he wasn’t walking there by accident, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t a coincidence. This happened twice.”
“Was he a student?”
“I don’t know. Lauren said he definitely didn’t fit in with the college crowd in the bar. He was older, she said, but he was in good shape. Oh, he was completely bald. She said he looked like Mister Clean, you know?”
That didn’t describe Noah Smith.
April said, “In the bar, he’d been all friendly and funny, but when he wanted to take it further and she said no, he got all weird. Then the stalking.”
Cheryl Beth asked if Lauren had notified the police.
“No,” April said. “She was forever blaming herself for things. She was afraid she’s been too provocative and flirty in the bar. Then she thought maybe she was imagining that he was really following her. But she was afraid. I can tell you that. I was about to come down there and make her go to the campus police when this happened.”
“Did you tell all this to Detective Brooks?”
“I don’t know who that is,” April said. “My parents got a call from the university and had to go down and…” A sniffle broke her control, “…identify Lauren’s body. They didn’t know about this. Lauren wouldn’t tell them. They’re very protective and she wanted to be independent. It makes me want to throw up.”
When the phone rang a little after seven, Cheryl Beth thought it might be April calling her back. She answered on the first ring and could hear the anxiety in her own voice.
No one spoke. She could hear a background of voices and telephones ringing, then a hand muffling the receiver. The peculiar dread of a mysterious call sanded her nerve endings.
Finally: “Cheryl Beth?” A man’s voice. A nice baritone, vaguely familiar.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“I’m not sure you remember me. My name is Will Borders. I was a patient at Cincinnati General when you were the pain nurse…”
She felt a catch in her throat and hesitated. Then, “Of course I remember you, Will. Tell me how you’re doing?”
“I’m doing well. I’m back at work, on the force.”
“I’ve seen your name in the paper and hoped you were all right.” She could hear more voices and phones in the background. “Where are you?”
“I’m in homicide right now. Detective Dodds sends his best.”
A deeper voice called, “Hello, Cheryl Beth!” and laughed.
“Tell him ‘hi’ back.”
She heard a rustling and Dodds came on. “Are you still as beautiful as the last time I saw you?”
“Hello, Detective Dodds.” She laughed. “The last time you saw me I was beaten up and bloody.”
“You were the most beautiful beaten up and bloody I’ve ever seen. Anyway, I’ll give you back to Mister President.”
“Sorry,” Will said. “He gets very enthusiastic.”
“I can see that. Why does he call you Mister President?”
“Long story.” He paused. “Anyway, I’m walking. I use a cane. But I’m walking.”
“That is so great. I prayed for that, Will.” She blurted that last part out suddenly and then worried if she had gone too far.
After a long pause, Will said, “I hope I’m not calling at a bad time. I’ve wanted to call and check in. There’s no excuse for not doing it sooner.”
She smiled and said nothing.
