Wakefield College 01 - Where It May Lead (24 page)

Guy Laclaire stared back at him. “Yes. Goddamn it, yes. But I
couldn’t take that risk.”

“How great was the risk, Mr. Laclaire?” Troy allowed the knife
edge to sound in his voice. “What did you do that forced you to pay up?”

The flick of muscles in his jaw was again the only sign of
discomfiture. “I told you. I cheated in a class.”

Troy raised his eyebrows.

“It was a senior seminar in my major. I had been flattered to
be allowed to take it a year early. I thought I walked on water. I’d gotten so
cocky that I thought I could get straight A’s with one hand tied behind my back.
I’d turn out a dazzling final paper for the class, I was sure. But I kept
putting it off. I’d been shaken by a B on a midsemester paper. The professor had
written all over the damn thing. Even I could see that he was right. So I kept
procrastinating. I finally did write one, but it was shit. I asked for an
incomplete in the class, claimed to have had mono.”

“And then?” Troy prodded.

“I found a brilliant, incisive paper written by some grad
student somewhere that had been published in an obscure magazine focused on
literary analysis. I typed it and turned it in a few weeks after the semester
had ended. I received an A on the paper and in the class.” He grimaced, making
him look more human. “And from that moment on, I had this rock in my stomach. I
swore I would never cheat again, never permit myself to take shortcuts. I have
lived my life by that vow, Detective Troyer. I did not hurt Mitch King. I
considered him my penance.”

Troy had heard that before. “But you hated him.”

“Yes.” Madison’s father met Troy’s eyes unflinchingly. “He was
scum, preying off other people’s weaknesses. Ultimately, however, I believe it
might be more accurate to say that he stood in as a symbol of how I felt about
what I’d done.”

Troy ran him through what he’d done and seen. He was able to
make a good guess as to what time he’d found the body. Running away, he’d been
carrying his racquet in his hand.

“I had my own,” he said simply. Somehow, Troy wasn’t
surprised.

He listed names of some fellow students he’d suspected were
also being blackmailed. Only one name was new, and it was a woman. Her gender
made her an unlikely killer. He hadn’t seen anyone on his way into the gym that
night, had heard voices in the locker room but no one was visible and he thought
he’d escaped the building entirely unseen.

In the end, Troy had no choice at all but to thank him for his
cooperation and say that he’d be in touch if he had further questions.

“Are you returning to Portland today?” he asked.

“No, I’m staying with Madison tonight. I don’t see her often
enough.” A hint of pain sounded in his voice, or maybe only regret.

Troy hoped for Madison’s sake that her father did feel bad for
all the times he’d hurt her. He walked Laclaire out and watched him go, aware of
too damn much churning inside him. What rose to the top was something he could
only call jealousy.

He resented like hell the fact that her father was the one
who’d be having dinner with her tonight, spending the entire evening with her,
joining her at the breakfast table. The one who’d get first crack at cementing
the bonds of love and loyalty.

Troy hated knowing he was capable of feeling something so
petty.

He stalked back to the conference room.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“D
ID
YOU
ENJOY
wandering the campus?” Madison asked her father.

They were eating at a bistro she had recommended after he
insisted on taking her out to eat, saying it was the least he could do. That
afternoon he had stopped by her office briefly, looked around curiously, then
waved off her offer to leave work early and said he’d tour the college and maybe
town, too, to see how much had changed. “If anything,” he’d said sardonically,
which made her roll her eyes.

Madison now regretted suggesting a restaurant where she and
Troy had eaten together. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the table
where they’d sat. Had she talked about Dad? She couldn’t remember.

“It brought back memories,” her father admitted, his expression
reflective. “I see they took the wrecking ball to Cheadle.”

“Yes, I think the whole community turned out to watch.” She
certainly had. The great event had happened the week before, and a crew had been
stripping the site of bricks and debris ever since. Madison had heard the
college was doing a brisk business selling the weather-worn bricks from the
demolished building. They were probably destined to pave garden paths and
courtyards. “It was sad, in a way.”

“Sad some idiot architect’s mistake is costing the college a
small fortune,” he said acidly.

Oh, well
—that was Dad. She only
smiled at him. “Did I thank you for your donation?”

His face softened. “You know you did. Officially and
unofficially.”

He’d surprised her by giving fifty thousand dollars. He’d
surprised her even more when he told her on the phone, “My years at Wakefield
were good ones. I haven’t been as faithful in giving back as I should have
been.”

“Did you run into anyone you know?”

He chuckled. “Old man Wilson. I thought he was tottering toward
retirement when I was a student here.”

She laughed. “By most people’s standards, he probably was. He’s
been heard to say he intends to die in his office at the college.” Madison
wrinkled her nose. “Which is, unfortunately, in the dank basement of Welk Hall
right now.”

“So he told me.” Her father talked while they ate their salads;
he’d seen a few more of his former professors, although none in the English
department. “I think Herbert Wilson may be the last who was here when I was,” he
said thoughtfully.

“Several of the current professors have been here a long time,
though.” She grinned at him. “It’s just that you graduated an eon ago.”

“Brat.”

The waiter brought their entrées and took away the salad
plates. When they were alone again, Madison asked about the afternoon’s
interview. She tried to hide how tense she was and hoped she only came across as
concerned.

“I gather you know the detective.”

“Yes.” Oh God, she realized, the moment of truth had arrived.
But she’d discovered recently that she wasn’t as great a coward as she used to
think she was. And denying Troy felt
wrong
. Even so,
her fingers clenched the napkin on her lap. “Did he tell you we’ve been
dating?”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “No. And neither have you. No, you
said the man you’re dating is named Troy. I thought the detective’s name was
John.”

“Nickname.” She challenged him with raised eyebrows. “And I
rarely tell you when I’m dating. You never ask.”

“Seems like something you should talk about with your mother,”
he muttered.

“If I ever talked to her.”

“You were never willing to give her a chance.”

“She left me.” Madison heard how flat that sounded, how
unforgiving. She saw his mouth open and shook her head. “No, I know that’s not
fair. But at that age, all I knew was that she had abandoned me. And when she
came to get me and I saw that she was already pregnant...” She made a face. “I
never felt the same about her.”

“The fault is rarely one-sided when a marriage fails,” her
father said—once again taking her aback. He seemed different tonight, perhaps
shaken off his usual pedestal by the reason for his visit.

The thought troubled her, though, and she finally figured out
why. No, this
was
the father she knew. When she went
long stretches without seeing him in person, she forgot how the twitch of his
mouth and the flicker of expression in his eyes changed how his words affected
her. He sounded cold on the phone, but he really wasn’t. Sitting across the
table from him, her daddy, it was easier to remember the father who had
struggled to French braid her hair because she had desperately wanted to wear it
that way, who had buried their ancient tabby cat Calypso in the back garden
after Madison found her dead one morning. He’d been wearing one of his fine
suits, she remembered, and had sworn to himself as he went upstairs to shower
and change after they held their brief service and he held his sobbing daughter.
But he’d done it.

“Why didn’t you remarry?” she heard herself ask.

He stared at her. “What in God’s name brought that up?” His
expression changed to what might be shock. “Detective Troyer. You’re serious
about him.”

She lifted her chin. “Yes.” And braced herself for what she
knew would come.

He set his fork down. “Are you aware I was friends with his
father?”

Madison nodded, eyeing him warily. Wasn’t Dad going to ask
incredulously what she could possibly be thinking of to date a lowly cop? She
cleared her throat. “Yes, Troy told me.”

“He looks uncannily like Joe—his father.”

“I saw a picture of Mr. Troyer, taken not that many years ago.
The resemblance is strong.”

“Joe wasn’t ambitious the way I was.” Dad sounded reflective
rather than condemning. “He was smart enough, but too laid-back.” His eyes
zeroed in on hers. “This Troy can’t be very ambitious, either, if all he’s
interested in is small-town law enforcement.”

“I’m not so sure ambition and happiness go hand in hand.”
Did I really have the nerve to say that to my father?
she thought, shocked.

He dipped his head stiffly.

Had she hurt his feelings?

“But I think you’re wrong about Troy,” she continued. “He was
with Seattle P.D. for something like eight or ten years, rising to detective. He
only came home to Frenchman Lake in the past couple years. It’s good that he’s
been here for his mother, after his dad died.”

Her father gave a one-shoulder shrug in acknowledgment.

“I have no idea whether Troy is ambitious—whether or not he
wants to rise to police chief here and then move on to a larger jurisdiction.
What I do know is that he’s dedicated to his job. He’s smart and stubborn and he
doesn’t give up when he sets his mind to something.” She paused. “Like solving
the King murder.”

Again they stared at one another. It felt disconcertingly like
two fencers facing off. Madison sensed that, this time, she’d surprised her
father.

And maybe herself.

“It could be a mistake to underestimate him.” Again Dad sounded
thoughtful.

She stiffened. “What does
that
mean?”

His eyebrows rose. “Exactly what I said. He wasn’t quite what I
expected.”

Madison had to ask. “What did you expect?”

“What I think of as the typical cop mentality. Linear thinking.
No subtlety. In his case, young and therefore cocky.”

She blinked. “So that means you think he’s subtle, capable of
complex thinking and the opposite of cocky?”

His mouth curved in a rare smile. “Possibly. He is certainly
very thorough.”

An involuntary memory of Troy’s lovemaking made her think—
yes
. It also made her face warm.

“I won’t ask what you were thinking.”

“Please don’t,” she said sincerely.

He grinned, but ruefully. “I don’t ask about who you’re dating
because, I suspect like most men, I prefer not to think of any man relating to
my daughter.”

Her heart gave a funny squeeze. “It never occurred to
me...”

“You thought I didn’t care?”

This was the strangest conversation they’d ever had.

“Not that, exactly. I know you love me.”

He searched her face, then nodded finally, but not as if he was
satisfied. “You asked me why I never remarried,” he said abruptly. “I suppose
that’s why. I’m not good at intimacy. My own parents weren’t warm people. Being
affectionate with you was a struggle for me. And your mother needed something I
couldn’t give her. I tried harder for your sake than I did for hers, I’m ashamed
to say.”

Madison’s smile felt crooked. “Because I needed you so
much.”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Did she have an affair while she was still married
to you?”

Her father’s face remained impassive. “I’d rather not answer
that question. Talk to her. She does love you.”

Madison crumbled her bread. “Maybe I will.”

He picked up his fork and began to eat again. She followed
suit, although her appetite was MIA.

“You didn’t answer my question about your meeting with Troy,”
she reminded her father.

He set down his fork again and looked at her. “Because the
answer is...I don’t know. I told him what I did and saw. I have no idea whether
he believed me. And if he didn’t, what he can do about it. I can’t prove I
didn’t kill Mitch King, and your detective can’t prove I did, because of course
I didn’t.”

Madison nodded, relieved to discover that—of course—she
believed him.

“You know he was blackmailing fellow students.”

“Troy told me,” she agreed warily.

“I was one of them.”

“I...suspected. I could hear your bitterness when you talked
about him.”

“I suppose you wonder what I did that justified blackmail.”

Not a question, but she nodded, anyway. Despite the
extraordinary nature of this talk, her anger was alive and well. “I’ve spent a
lifetime listening to your lectures on personal standards, on the conduct you
expected of me, of how nothing short of perfection was acceptable.”

He frowned, and she sensed that she had disconcerted him. “I
never said that.”

“That was my take.”

“Then I’m sorry.” When she didn’t respond, the muscles of his
face seemed to sag. It was as if he aged before her eyes. “I cheated in an
advanced English seminar,” he said bluntly. “I’d gotten so full of myself, I
didn’t think I had to work to get the grades. I procrastinated until I had no
time left to write a paper with the quality I needed to get an A. So I stole a
paper published in an obscure journal.” Despite the careful lack of inflection,
his tone was dark. “I made a hasty decision to do it, and lived to regret
it.”

“Because somehow Mitch King found out.”

He started to nod, then shook his head. “Because I was
disappointed in myself. Shocked, even. Horrified to be caught, yes. Mostly, I
discovered I wasn’t the man I had believed myself to be, the man I wanted to be.
I’ve tried very hard since to be that man.” His mouth twisted. “Too hard,
perhaps. The lesson was a harsh one.”

“And you wanted to be sure I didn’t have to learn it
myself.”

He watched her closely, as though gauging her reactions. “Yes.
I didn’t want you to find out what it’s like to despise yourself.”

“It would have worked better if you’d told me you screwed up.
Why
it mattered so much that you never make that
kind of mistake again.” She had to say this, if only once. “Instead I was left
trying to measure up to a father who presented himself as godlike.”

The years settled even more heavily on him. “That was never my
intention.”

The best she could do was nod. She believed him. Forgiveness
was another issue.

But he was also the father who had taken vacation so they could
go to Disneyland when it was probably the last thing he wanted to do. He’d at
least pretended to have fun so she could.

And poor Dad dealt with her shock and embarrassment when she
started getting noticeable breasts well before most of her classmates. A boy had
teased her and she’d come home in hysterics. Dad had bravely taken her shopping
for her first bra that evening. She was with him when her first period came,
too. Mom had prepared her, at least, and made sure she had supplies, but she’d
been freaked enough to need to talk to
someone,
and
Dad was there. She still remembered him gravely listening, and talking to her
about what being a woman meant. He had even told her stories of how his own body
had changed, so she knew the boys’ points of vulnerability and had some defense
against them.

The silence had stretched. Dad’s eyes were veiled by his lashes
as he slowly turned his wineglass around and around. Madison’s heart hurt.

“I love you,” she blurted out. “Sometimes I’m mad at you, too,
but...I do love you.”

His smile held all the complexity of the emotions she struggled
with herself, but it was a good smile. Warm. Without giving herself time for
second thoughts, Madison stood up and went around the table to hug the difficult
man who was her daddy.

He swiveled in his chair and his arms closed around her hard.
Despite the awkwardness of her position and the fact that they were in the
middle of a restaurant, they stayed like that for a long time.

* * *

T
ROY
DIDN
’
T
EXPECT
to
hear from Madison Friday night, although he would have given a lot for a brief
phone call. All she had to say was,
I know it’s weird with
Dad here, and you probably can’t tell me what he said, but...I wanted to
hear your voice.
He would have felt better.

But okay, he understood why she didn’t call. The situation
was
awkward, given the reason for her father’s
visit and Troy’s adversarial relationship with him. But she didn’t call
Saturday, either. And that’s when he realized he knew exactly what his problem
was.