BAD NEWS
Loralei stood back with a steaming mug of highly caffeinated coffee. She couldn't concentrate on drinking it because she couldn't stop giggling. Either what she was witnessing was completely hilarious or she was totally hysterical. Donovan had placed half a banana before Rachel with the intention of mashing it up for her, but she had her own ideas. No dear Father, she seemed to say with her big green eyes, I shall mash my own banana, thank you very much. She had taken the banana in her hand and smashed it up nicely. Now, she had banana on her hands, between her fingers, and was readying to shampoo her hair with it.
"You know," Donovan said from across the room, "Instead of standing over there giggling like an idiot, you could help me a little," he said in mock annoyance as he struggled to keep Rachel's hands from going into her hair. She simply couldn't understand why washing her hair with mashed banana was a bad idea.
Loralei shook her head and continued to giggle. She tried to take a sip of coffee, but couldn't manage to get the cup up to her mouth. "Baby, you're doing a swell job. I can't believe you're letting a teeny little girl beat you up." Rachel squealed out through her over developed lungs and broke into her own flurry of giggles as she smacked Daddy's nose. Splat. Now Donovan was covered in mashed banana. Loralei couldn't help it. She had to set her coffee mug down, if she didn't, she would slop the scalding liquid all over her. "Oh dear Lord," she said between guffaws, "I suppose you'll think twice before giving her another banana, won't you?"
"Go to work, won't you," he said, trying but failing, to sound exasperated. He lifted Rachel out of her highchair. "We have a mess to clean up, don't we, Rachel?" She squealed again and finally managed to get her banana-covered hand into her hair. "Give us a kiss, won't you," Donovan said with a lifted eyebrow and a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.
* * *
When Loralei parked her car in the faculty lot, she noticed that the campus was abuzz with activity. Mord was fairly small and the ton of people milling about surprised her. She recognized a few of them as local media. She vaguely wondered what the hell was going on, but again, she was distracted enough not to worry with it too much. She ignored the mass of people and made her way toward the building that housed her office and department. She went up to her office and again noticed more people than usual in the hallway, some whispering quietly, others glancing about nervously. She again ignored the activity and set about her new daily routine. She went to her desk and sat down. Loralei intended to dig out her schedule for the day and go over it with a fine tooth comb. She had a meeting with Dean Fehr at ten, and she somehow felt he didn't like her much. She wasn't one to put on airs for those who didn't like her [fuck 'em], but she also knew she had to meet with the dean whether she wanted to or not. Sighing, she dug out a small notebook and began jotting a few notes here and there whenever the bastard decided to pounce on her about her research project.
She had barely gotten two lines written when one of her new colleagues stuck his head into her office. At first, he said little to her. She seemed completely and entirely oblivious to the world surrounding her. What was she? An ostrich with her head in the sand? "Donovan? Haven't you heard?"
Loralei looked up from her notebook. "Heard what?"
He shook his head. Yup. She was an ostrich. "Dean Fehr was murdered last night at his condo, along with a student a couple of floors down. Jesus, Donovan, don't you watch the news?"
She said nothing in return to her colleague and watched him vaguely as he made his leave. Suddenly, nothing mattered to her. The dean? Murdered? A student? Why had the news given her a bad taste in her mouth? Of course, no one liked to hear of a murder or a death, but this news bothered her more than anything she had heard about. What was it? She thought of last night again, her foreboding sense of doom. However, that feeling had more to do with her husband than the dean. She was tempted to phone her husband. The need to hear his voice was overwhelming. She checked her wristwatch. Damn it. He would be on the road with the kids by now and wouldn't have his cell phone on. Sighing, Loralei pushed away from her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. She immediately wanted to connect the two murders, immediately began piecing together a scenario. Oh stop it, won't you? You're no longer in that mindset, Donovan. Shut it down. Shut it down and leave it for the authorities. She glanced down at her watch again. Damn it. She needed to talk to him, but at the same time, she didn't want to worry him. Her behavior the night before had done enough.
* * *
It had taken Donovan about an hour to clean himself, the kitchen, and Rachel. He had had to practically give her a bath and take a shower. By the time they were both dressed, he was running extremely late. For once, Tristan cooperated by remaining completely silent up until he got the rotten kid into the car. All was not lost, though. When he pulled out onto the road, the baby quieted down and Rachel's lungs finally tired. Both kids had been completely passed out by the time they made it to Angie's apartment. Tomorrow morning, it would be Loralei's turn to corral the children. When he entered the nest, he was already tired, as if he had put in a fifteen-hour day. He thanked his lucky stars that nothing interesting had made its way into the inbox. Strangely enough, the entire team was a little quiet this morning, even Cody. Donovan found himself wondering if he had awakened in some parallel universe. Without garnering the attention of his agents, he started toward his office. Halfway up the staircase, he stopped and glanced curiously at his crew. All of them were standing around Cody, their eyes fixed on one of his computer monitors. Donovan came back down and moved toward his agents. What the hell had gotten their attention?
Donovan came around behind them. Why did the image on the screen seem familiar to him? After half a dozen seconds, he realized he was looking at the campus of Mord University. He wanted to speak, but he was a little too shocked to say anything. Mord University is where both Dean Nicolas Fehr and student Carol Dover spent most of their time. After last night, neither of them will dwell on campus again. The commentary was hideous, but it was obvious that something had happened either on campus or off. His agents were silent because they knew Loralei was teaching there now, and this would lead to new worry for him, and they were right. It did. Without a word [he had never been so silent around the team, not since first taking over the SOG], he went back toward his office. Once inside, he closed the door behind him. As much as Loralei before him, he glanced at his wristwatch. She should be in her office. He grabbed the phone and dialed up Loralei's direct extension. He received no answer. It rang and rang. He replaced the phone and sat back in his chair. He recalled how Loralei was so very upset last night. Had she inherently known something like this would happen? He shook his head. The thought was too Twilight Zone to consider. However, the thought of two people from the university getting killed so very close to her unsettled him. He didn't like it and wouldn't rest until he spoke to her about it. He wasn't afraid for her life, she knew how to take care of herself, but he was worried just the same.
Time passed, he wasn't sure how much. His eyes were focused on the window at the far end of the room and he found himself daydreaming. None of the team had disturbed him; they figured he was trying to make contact with his wife. He was, but every time he tried her office, she didn't answer the phone. He called home, but she didn't answer there, either. She carried a cell phone, but she rarely turned it on unless she was going out of town. Damn it, Loralei, where are you? He heard a soft rap at his door and expected it to be Alex or Monica. He didn't bother calling out. Instead, he continued to stare out the window, silently wondering where his wife was. The door came open and then closed softly behind his visitor.
"Frank," a voice called softly.
He turned. "Loralei? Where have you been?"
She approached his desk and leaned against it, facing him. "Driving around," she admitted. "I stopped by Angie's and checked on the kids. I suppose you heard about the dean and that student?" He said nothing, only nodded. "The President shut down the university for the rest of the week. It was…was really bad, from what I understand. I heard they were…were bludgeoned too death." She was close to tears. Damn it. She hated being a crybaby. He tried to move toward her to comfort her, but she held up her hand. "I'm okay. It was just a very long, weird morning. I'm glad it's over."
Donovan stood up to face her and he took her hands in his. "Baby? Are you okay?" It was her turn to nod without speaking. He drew her against him and held her tightly. He placed a gentle kiss on her ear. "Why don't we pick up the kids and go home," he whispered, his voice falling in her ear. "There's nothing going on here and I don't want to leave you home alone." He moved away. "Do you want to?"
She nodded. "Yes," she whispered, "very much."
* * *
Loralei and Donovan lay on their bed facing each other. Their two little ones lay between them sleeping deeply. They hadn't said much to each other since they came home, but that was okay. They often communicated without the need to speak. "One more child, Loralei," Donovan began, "and we'll have to get a bigger bed."
"One more child, Donovan, and you get neutered," she said with a smile. She leaned over and kissed him gently. "I'm glad we did this," she whispered. "Although our lives are far from perfect, the only time I feel sane is when I'm with you and the children. I thought my job would increase the sanity, but I guess I was wrong." She stopped speaking. She wanted to express her fears, her sense of dread, but she didn't know if she should say anything. A mental poke goaded her, pushed her. What about that promise you made to each other back before you married? What about that? "Frank, have you ever felt as if your world is about to turn upside down without a reason? Without a cause? Last night, I felt like that. I didn't realize that's what it was until I had time to think about it. Something just seems out of whack, and I don't understand what it could be. Have you felt it before? Have you? Have you or am I losing my mind?"
Donovan could see that she was close to tears yet again. He nodded a little. "Yes, I've felt that way before, lots of times. What is it, Loralei? What are you afraid of? Tell me, talk to me, and we can work through it."
"You're going to think I'm crazy," she said as her eyes filled with tears. Jesus. Here goes the water works again.
He reached across their sleeping children to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall on her cheeks. "No, baby, I would never think that."
Loralei swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'm scared, Frank. It…it hit me last night. I think it's why I couldn't sleep. I'm afraid I'm going to lose you, lose what we have. I feel as if something is going to happen that will tear us apart, and I don't like it, I don't like feeling this way. I can't explain it and I don't know where it's coming from. I know how crazy it sounds, but I remember the promise we made to each other before we married, and I wanted to…to tell you."
"Loralei, nothing is going to happen to us. We've gone through hell since we met and it has made our relationship even stronger. I can't see much of anything that would tear us apart for very long." His hand caressed the side of her cheek and wiped away yet more tears. "I'm not trying to dismiss your fears, but I want you to know that our bond is strong, and we love each other very much. Whatever happens, if anything, we can hold it together just as we've done from the beginning."
She nodded as if answering 'I know,' but in her heart, she didn't mean it. Not really. She knew he was right when he said that they could just about get through anything, but she had doubts. In the last few months, her life had changed dramatically, she felt shaky and out of sorts. It didn't necessarily have to do with Nick Fehr's murder. Again, she contributed her feelings to the changes that had occurred. She couldn't continue to do this to herself. She had little time for a breakdown. "Frank, just be careful out there, okay?"
"Of course," he said. "I have three very important reasons to be careful." There wasn't much he could do or say to allay her fears, and he disliked feeling so helpless. What else could he do? What else could he say? He had known and loved her long enough to realize that if she had a rock stuck in her craw, nothing he said would help. "Love you, LD."
She smiled a little. "Me too, FD."
* * *
The next afternoon, Loralei left the kids with Angie for a couple of hours so she could visit the public library. The campus was still closed down, but she needed to occupy her mind with a little research. There was no way she wanted to hang around the house, brooding over her nonsensical dread and doom. She carried a pile of books over to a nearby table. A man seated at a table across from her was eyeing her curiously. From her vantage point, she saw that his hair was short and had once been black, but was now more salt and pepper. He possessed a strong lantern jaw and a sharp Roman nose. She couldn't see him well enough to detect his eye color, but she wouldn't be afraid to bet they were ice blue. He appeared to be no older than fifty, but carried himself as if he were years younger. The man was pretending to read a thick volume sitting before him, but he would look in her general direction at regular intervals. Loralei was tempted to approach the man and ask if he knew her, but she hesitated. How would he know her? She had never seen him in her life. Yet, he seemed to be aware of her identity. She could read it easily in his demeanor. A bit unnerved and annoyed, she sat down and cracked open one of her books. When she gazed down at her notebook, she once again felt his eyes on her. What the hell? This is pissing me off. She vaguely wondered if this fellow was someone from the FBI checking her out. Why would the FBI care about me anymore? I haven't been part of the fold in nearly two years. Shaken, but not stirred [Like James Bond…damn it, Loralei, you're losing your mind], she looked away and back down at her book. Damn it. Whoever the guy was, he was disturbing her, breaking her concentration. She looked up blatantly and obviously. Once again, he was looking right at her. Who the hell are you and why are you fucking staring at me? She sighed and shook her head. Forget him. Look away. Focus on your own shit.
Clearing her throat, Loralei went back to her book and began reading again. She read the same damn paragraph twice. She could feel the man's eyes on her, boring into her. What the hell? She fought desperately to keep from looking up. However, whenever she didn't want to do something, she wound up doing it anyway. As if on cue, she looked toward the man's table. Again, he was gazing toward her. If I look up one more time and see his eyes on me, I will ask him what the fuck is his problem. Oh yes I will. She went back to her book, reading the same paragraph yet again. He was fucking up everything for her. She glanced down at her notebook and noticed that she had written the same sentence twice. Shit. When she looked up again, his eyes were on her. Okay, that fucking does it. She snapped her book closed and started to push away from the table. However, the man moved before she could. She watched curiously as he approached her. She wasn't altogether sure she wanted him sitting with her, but that was exactly what he seemed to be doing. She immediately began to tense. There was something about this guy that had completely spooked her, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
As the man pulled out a chair and sat down, she crossed her arms before her and gazed at him with a lifted eyebrow [Goddamn you, Donovan, you are so rubbing off on me]. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you," she said. "Can I help you?" She had raised her voice louder than intended, but she was a bit on the pissed side.
The man smiled apologetically. "Pardon me, I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said. His voice was deep and raspy. "I've seen you on campus. I'm Andy Dannon. Used to teach at Mord, but since I retired, I mostly guest lecture. I'm affiliated with your department. I noticed your pile of books and thought I could offer some assistance, if you wish. I'm well aware of Mord's motto of publish or perish."
She had been right about his eyes. They were ice blue and cold. His friendliness seemed forced and as fake as a four-dollar bill. She didn't remember anything about an "Andy Dannon." The dean had never mentioned this man. "I appreciate it, Mr. Dannon, but I don't need your help. I can manage on my own. If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my work, and your presence is disrupting it."
Her harsh words didn't seem to rattle him. He smiled a little and nodded. "I completely understand your need to dive in solo. I was just like you when I first started teaching. If you change your mind, you can find me here on most nights. Good evening, Ms. Donovan." Without giving her a chance to respond, he pushed away from the table, stood up, and walked away.
She looked after the man for a moment. How the fuck did he know her name? Think, you dumb ass. He probably saw it as he walked by your office. If he worked at the university, why hadn't she seen him? Sighing, she shook off the bizarre conversation and went back to her book. For the hundredth time, she read the same passage. Fuck it. She couldn't concentrate now. "Andy Dannon" had royally fucked it up for her. She slammed the book closed and gathered it and the dozen others she had found earlier. Time to check out and retrieve her children.
* * *
Donovan was in his office having a difficult conference call with Shoemaker and Fielder. He had never taken a liking to Shoemaker and could only tolerate Fielder. Donovan had told the two men the same thing a half dozen times, but it seemed as if nothing was getting through to them. From downstairs, he heard a slight ruckus going on. It didn't necessarily sound as if there was a fight going on, but he could hear Cody laughing, and a moment later, he heard an all too familiar squeal of delight. Distracted now, he smiled a little. Loralei had apparently brought the kids over for a visit.
"So, Frank," Shoemaker began, "what do you make of this?"
Make of what? He had blocked out the droning sound of Shoemaker's voice. It was more than obvious that his boss wasn't paying attention to him, so why should he return the favor? It was bad form, but right now, he really didn't care. "Could we continue this later? I have another meeting in fifteen."
"Ah," Shoemaker said, "Say hello to your wife, would you?"
"Sure thing," he said and then disconnected the call. He was about to make his way downstairs until he heard a soft rap on the door. He opened the door and smiled down at his wife. "Knocking again?"
Loralei shrugged and entered the room. "Well, they told me you were playing tug-o-war with Shoemaker and Fielder. I wanted to make sure the game was over before I interrupted it."
He closed the door behind her and turned around. She had taken her customary place on his desk. He had actually begun to ensure that the spot was vacant just for her. "You were interrupting nothing. I don't enjoy the business part of this job. I could sincerely do without that." He approached her and stood beside her, his hand coming out to rest comfortably on her thigh. "What's on your mind?"
"I had a strange encounter with a guy at the library. He said he was working at the university, but I think he was lying. Gave me the creeps like you wouldn't believe," she said.
"Do you want Cody to check him out," he asked.
She smiled a little. "Am I that transparent?"
"Maybe," he said with his own little smile. "Perhaps you've been married to me too long." His smile fell away for a moment. "Do you think he may have had something to do with the murders?"
She shrugged again. "Don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I just want him checked out. I think it'll make me feel better. It was strange. He sat and stared at me forever before he finally came over to offer assistance with my project. Why would a rank stranger do that? He said his name was Andy Dannon, but I've never heard of this man before today. If he was part of the faculty, Dean Fehr would have introduced us, I'm sure."
"Cody will dig him up for you, don't worry."
"And speaking of Uncle Cody," Loralei began, "I think we should get downstairs before he has Rachel swinging from the light fixtures."