What If... Read online

  Stefan would tell her that she had the ability to do so much more, but she’d blocked it. Sometimes she’d like to block Stefan. Then he’d been with her longer than Harvey. Stefan, always a nag in the background. She almost smiled at that, knowing he likely heard her.

  Calling Stefan a friend seemed to cross a line, but he was one and had helped her on a few odd cases that didn’t follow normal patterns, as they’d been beyond odd. The department heads hadn’t been happy, but in the end, cases solved, they’d swallowed their chagrin and had quickly moved on. She shouldn’t be held responsible for that, but, of course, she was. Life was just like that. People were just like that. And that gave her absolutely no other place to go really, except down the rabbit hole of weirdness. She shrugged; she was good with having her own niche in which to work her magic, and she would keep putting away criminals, as long as they kept coming onto her radar.

  She reached the lower front section, where the two victims still sat. Abby walked up to stand in front of them. Both were female, young, blonde, and pretty. Just something about them had a sisterly look, not in a biological sense, but like sisters in kind. They both were well dressed and looked like they would be best friends, and that was something Abby would check early on, as well as their relationship with the woman who had sat between them. Something else common to both women was no physical sign of how they died. No mess, no blood, no visible injuries. No defensive wounds either. They both looked like they’d just fallen asleep. Their eyes were closed, and they sat upright. Their energy … was already gone.

  Hearing more footsteps, she shook her head, then turned to study the coroner, who was coming down the stairs.

  “What have you got for me today?” he snapped.

  “Two dead within the last couple hours. They apparently died during a lecture.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “They were in the middle of a philosophy lecture,” she explained. “When everybody got up to leave, these two didn’t move. The woman sitting between them found out both women were dead.”

  “Two of them?” he asked, his voice rising.

  “Two of them,” Abby repeated, with a nod, “yes.”

  He shook his head. “What are the chances I’ll find this is a murder-suicide?”

  She stared at him in surprise. “I don’t know. That’s for you to tell me. But I hadn’t considered that.”

  He snorted at that. “Like you don’t know half the time before I even have the chance to say anything. So, any guesses on this one?” he asked Abby, his tone sharp, as he studied her.

  “I wish I did,” she stated calmly, “but, honest to God, not a whole lot to go on here.”

  He nodded. “So, it’ll mostly be the lab that gives us the answers we need, I’d wager.”

  “Maybe.” She hesitated. “It’s a weird one though.”

  “Right”—he pointedly stared at her—“but that is your domain.”

  She laughed at that. Too many people would say that, despite keeping her energy work to herself. Too bad she didn’t have the ability to look at a crime scene like this and see the answers. No. Which was too bad. However, she could tell if someone was lying… if they were having a good day… a shitty day, or if they were hiding something. Other than that her abilities were pretty much useless. Hence Stefan saying she could do so much more if it weren’t for her wall …

  “I keep hearing that,” she replied, “but I’m not sure anybody’s domain covers this kind of weird.”

  “Yours does, and you’ll find out who did it.” The coroner waved her away. “Go off and do your job and leave me to do mine.”

  She nodded and stepped back. Dr. Henshaw liked space, disliked being crowded, and, although he would ask a lot of questions, he really hated if you jumped to conclusions, especially when he hadn’t had a chance to provide any evidence. Assumptions would piss him off. A lesson she’d learned early on. And, of course, that made her a favorite—if any of the detectives could be considered as such—because Henshaw had no tolerance for anyone who couldn’t hold their own. She was well-known for holding her own, only that often came under the label of being abrasive to some, and to still others, bitchy.

  She didn’t care what anyone called her, as long as they got out of her way when she had work to do. Kind of like Henshaw himself, actually. She watched as he stepped up, took a closer look at the victims, and muttered, as he started his exams. Abby waited quietly, listening, but hearing absolutely nothing more than what she’d already expected.

  She turned to look at the older woman, still sitting on a stool at the front of the stage. Still hovering close was a large man in a suit, now bending over to speak with the professor. Abby walked closer. “Dr. Gertrude Milligan? I’m Detective Abigail Cartwright.” She held up her badge.

  The woman looked up with a start, as if she’d zoned out. “Yes, yes.” She tried to stand. “That’s me. Everyone just calls me Gertrude.”

  “Okay, please sit down,” Abby said. “I just need to ask you a few more questions.”

  The older woman sagged onto her stool. “What happened to them?”

  “I don’t know,” Abby replied. “The coroner is here now. He’ll find out.”

  “Yes, of course.” Dr. Milligan shook her head. “I don’t mean to be foolish.”

  “It’s not foolish,” Abby stated calmly. “We all want answers. Now can you tell me what you saw?”

  The older woman immediately turned her palms up. “I would if I could,” she cried out, her voice cracking. “I’m not sure if I saw anything.”

  “Explain, please?”

  Gertrude went through what happened before and during the class, including all the discussions they had. She had just turned to clean off the chalkboard at the end of the lecture, and everyone started to get up and leave.

  “That’s when the commotion started, and Carrie, the girl in the middle, screamed. I turned around to see several people standing and staring at these three women in the front row. When Carrie said both her classmates were dead, I walked over to check, as did several of the students. We checked for a pulse but found nothing and called for help.”

  “How many were in your class?”

  “I can give you a class list,” she offered, “but we don’t have a sign-in sheet, and I don’t take roll, so I can’t confirm everybody who was here.”

  At that, Abby winced. “Do you have any cameras in here?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not in here. Should be some in the hallway though.”

  “Fine, we’ll run those.” Abby wrote down a note, as she quickly surveyed the amphitheater. “We’ll contact the university and see where I can access the camera footage.” Abby nodded to herself, turned back to Gertrude, and looked at the man standing beside her. “And who are you?”

  “Leon Wellington.” His lazy drawling voice made her look at him a moment longer than was necessary. “Gertie is my aunt, and I’m a prof here on campus as well.”

  That startled her. The last thing he looked like was a university professor. He had that lean grace, almost like a model who had learned his poses, getting them right each and every time, but, beyond that single point, she didn’t think anything else was model-like about this man; he was more panther-like. Predatory. “And when did you happen on the scene?”

  “She called me,” he replied smoothly, “and said she needed help.”

  “Why did she need help?” she asked.

  Gertrude spoke up. “Because it was my class, because I’d sustained a shock, because …” She waved her hand. “I hardly need to explain any more than that. Leon is my only family, and I knew he would be here close by to support me.”

  “Good enough,” Abby stated calmly, as she turned her gaze from Leon to Gertrude. “What can you tell me about these two students?”

  “They were best friends,” she explained. “They always sat together and were always giggling. Sometimes it would get irritating because I wasn’t sure if they we
re paying any attention to the class, in favor of the boy in the next seat.” She shook her head. “They were boy crazy, like so many women of this age.”

  “Right. Do you know if they had boyfriends?”

  She shrugged, frowning. “No. I don’t know anything about their personal lives.”

  “What was your own relationship with the women?”

  “Excellent. Both were sweethearts. Not sure they were particularly worried about an education, but they were always fun to have in my class,” she said warmly, only to suddenly remember they were dead and teared up again. “Let me just say, it was a pleasure to have them in the class.”

  “What about other friends they might have had?”

  “That’s a question you should put to the woman who sat between them, Carrie. They always sat together, the three of them.”

  “Did you see anybody else sitting close to them?” Abby asked.

  “No.” This time such bewilderment was in Gertrude’s voice that Abby believed she was telling the truth. “I don’t know if they chose to take some drugs and kill themselves while they were here or if they accidentally overdosed somehow. I can’t imagine anybody was close enough to kill them,” she stated, “and they weren’t necessarily the kind who would cause such hatred to get themselves killed over.”

  “It doesn’t take much,” Abby noted, “particularly if they’re both beautiful and if potentially a male were involved.”

  Gertrude looked at her in surprise, then understanding slowly dawned. “Well, I suppose that’s possible,” she replied, “but I really don’t appreciate if somebody did this intentionally in my classroom.”

  “I don’t think anybody would appreciate that,” Abby stated. “Do you have any contact information for the students? And you mentioned a list.”

  “Yes, we can get all that from the registrar.” She gave Abby a wave of her hand. “I don’t have anything to do with their private lives.”

  “Do they ever do any extra classes, any tutorials with you? Have you had any contact with them outside the classroom?”

  Immediately she shook her head again, “No. None. I see them when they come in for class, and, when they leave, they leave. That’s it.”

  “And yet you don’t always see them when they leave either, do you?” she asked.

  Gertrude stared at her in confusion.

  “You said you were cleaning off the board.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” she agreed, “but I do that every time, for the classes coming in after us. It’s only common courtesy.”

  “Good,” Abby noted. “So then nothing was out of the ordinary. There was no change in routine, and nothing seemed different today?”

  “Nothing, absolutely nothing. Except …” At that, her nephew squeezed her shoulder.

  “Except what?”

  Her voice grew thin, as she answered, “Except for today’s topic.”

  “What was that?”

  “Well, the class is on philosophy, and we were discussing what ifs. Like what if there were an Armageddon, what if we, you know, had a Third World War, what if we were invaded by aliens, things like that.” She paused. “The discussion went on to include psychic phenomenon as well, and, in listing more what if scenarios, I asked, ‘What if there was a back door to their minds? What if somebody could access your brain and make you do things? How would life look then?’”

  Abby’s heart froze, and she wanted to retreat a step. But she didn’t dare. Because that would just bring more attention her way. And, damn it, for this being another weird case. It had psychic bullshit written all over it. Hopefully the coroner would find something tangible to take it off that strange list. But, casting a side glance at the two dead women, Abby knew in her heart of hearts that it wouldn’t be that simple. “Interesting choice of a class topic,” she noted quietly.

  “Yes, it sparks a lot of ideas from the students. Though I’d never done that particular what if question before. Brainstorming these topics has long been a part of my presentation and not outside the realm of anything else I would have done on another topic.”

  “So, you’re saying, you’ve never asked that particular question before?” she asked curiously.

  “No, never.”

  Abby stared out and around, wondering if that had any importance for this crazy day. She pulled out her notebook and wrote down a few notes.

  At that, Leon asked, “Detective, does that matter?”

  “Does what matter?” she asked.

  “The subject my aunt was teaching today.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t like to think so,” she replied, “but the fact that it’s different means that it’s noteworthy. It’s just one more thing in a long chain of events that makes it a different scenario. Is it important? I have no way of knowing yet.”

  And she wouldn’t explain it to him, even if she did. This was definitely a hands-off investigation, and she didn’t care who didn’t like it. Except there was something about him … She took a peek at his energy, but, outside of being upset—and that tracked through his energy blending with Dr. Milligan’s energy—he appeared to be telling the truth. Although a hint of darkness was in his aura. Trauma from the past perhaps?

  Boom went the pain in her head. Gasping slightly, she shut down her inner gaze and turned toward the tearful professor.

  “I would like to be kept in the loop,” Leon said smoothly, as if sensing her boundaries on this case.

  She looked at him blandly. “I’m sorry. That’s not our protocol.”

  He just nodded quietly.

  But something about that gaze was deep, dark, and penetrating. She shook her head. More to shake off the odd connection between them. “You, of course, can talk to the police commissioner, but that won’t be something I’ll be bringing up with him, and I can’t have you interfering with my case in any way,” she warned.

  He stared at her. “In what way could I interfere?”

  “I have no idea.” She studied him. “I just want to let it be known straight up front that no interference will be tolerated.”

  He smiled, as if he’d heard it all before and had half expected it. Well, maybe not expected it but wasn’t surprised to hear it. “Interesting,” he murmured, “but taken under consideration.”

  “Good. She turned to look around at the forensics team. “We’ll be here for a few hours, and I’ll need to contact you again with more questions,” she stated, looking at the professor.

  Gertrude nodded. “Is it possible I could leave now?”

  “Yes, absolutely, as long as I have your contact information, so we can follow up later.” And, with that, Abby took down Gertrude’s phone number and her address, and then Abby stepped back, looked at Leon. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” he asked helpfully. “Do you want my contact information too?”

  Something almost personal and private was in that tone of voice, but it sounded false, like he was hiding something.

  Keeping her tone even, she agreed. “That would be good, in case we had trouble reaching your aunt.”

  He gave it without issue. Something odd was in his mannerisms, but she couldn’t place it. Personal, almost intimate, yet different. So weird. Then he helped his aunt, as they both left the room.

  Her partner walked down the stairs and looked at her. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” she asked, turning to face Harvey.

  “Whatever is going on between the two of you.”

  She noted an odd look in his eyes, as he watched her closely. “I’m not sure anything is,” she answered quietly, knowing how well Harvey knew her. “Why?”

  “Oh, he was making a play for you. I just don’t know why.”

  “What? Meaning, I’m so ugly that nobody would be bothered?” she asked humorously.

  “No. We all know that you’re gorgeous. But you also keep your private life very separate from work. But, of course, that guy doesn’t know it.” Harvey leaned closer. “But he gave it a try anyway. Bet
he tries again too.”

  “Hopefully not,” she stated cheerfully. “Then I wouldn’t have to smack him down. Can’t say I enjoy that part.”

  *

  Leon assisted Gertie, as he’d called her for decades, out of the building. “I want to take you straight home,” he murmured. She tried to rally, but he saw the stiffness sliding out of her spine. “This isn’t one of those times when you have to be strong.”

  “It’s a bad day.” Her voice quivered. “Those poor women.”

  “There’s still a chance it was natural causes.”

  She sent him a sharp look, before snapping, “I’m not a fool.”

  “No, you’re not,” he murmured quietly. “I’ve never thought that.”

  “You didn’t tell her what you teach here?”

  “She’ll find out soon enough. She’d had it with me already, it seemed, so …” He just shrugged. His specialty was criminal law, but he also taught a class on mythical and paranormal events. His criminal background had him lending a hand in local cases, whenever the police needed a consultant.

  “Be interesting if they asked you to consult with her. She seemed to take a dislike to you.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He’d found her fascinating, so he hoped that hadn’t been her reaction.

  “God, I still can’t believe that happened.” Gertie reached up her bony hand to gently push back a wisp of hair off her face. “Those poor women.”

  He studied her hand carefully. She was shaking, her arm only slightly uncoordinated but heavy. “Will you be all right at home?”

  Immediately she stiffened, outraged. “Of course I will. I had nothing to do with what happened to those women in the first place. Now that I’ve answered the questions the police have, it’s up to them to sort this out.”

  He admired that sense of calm and righteousness. It never really worked out so well for him, but, in her world, a spinster all her life, it had held her in good stead in getting through those years when everybody thought she should have been married, the years where she had wished she had been married, the years where she had desperately wanted children but had never found a partner.