Chapter Two
2251 Words
Chapter Two
Teddy shivered inside her jacket. She tried not to be frightened, but the small interrogation room was designed to scare people. Bad people. Well, she was afraid, all right. But she wasn't a criminal, and she needed to prove it.
Her gaze looked everywhere but at her sister, Lisa, who had come to the police station in response to Teddy's call. Lisa, who thought God was in control of everything. Teddy couldn't wait to hear Lisa's idea of God's plan in this situation.
Voices and heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the room. Teddy strained to hear what was being said. No good. She couldn't make out the words. The silence in the room was deafening. Other than the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. So loud she wanted to clamp her hands over them.
She surveyed the room again. Scuffed gray walls and dingy gray floors greeted her eyes. No windows, of course. In stark contrast, the glossy black wooden door seemed freshly painted. A roughly painted signed warned Prisoners Are To Remain Seated At All Times. Was she a prisoner? She wanted to stand in defiance, but her legs probably wouldn't hold her. Between her nerves and struggling with the would-be assassin, her body was in no shape to support her weight.
The table was scratched, and a metal loop was bolted to one side. Ostensibly, to chain the more violent suspects in place. She rubbed her chafed wrists where the cuffs had encircled them. At least she didn't have to suffer the indignity of being tied down. She sighed and shifted on the oak seat, the wood hard and unmoving.
Lisa sniffled and dabbed her red-rimmed eyes with a ragged tissue. Teddy scooted her chair closer to her sister. “You've got to stop crying. You'd think you are the one being held captive. We need to think of a way to get me out of here.”
“I know. But seeing you in here. Like this. You look awful.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Lisa stroked Teddy's arm. “I'm sorry. I'm worried about you. That's all.”
“Me, too. These Keystone Cops think I tried to assassinate Lindbergh even though one of the other men on stage was killed. They're not going to look very hard for the real murderer. Officer What's-His-Name wouldn't believe me when I told him about the guy getting away. Did he think I was wrestling with myself?”
“I'm sure when they go through your bag and only find cameras and lenses, they'll realize they've got the wrong person.”
“I'm not so sure. And that security guard? He's useless. He must be somebody's brother-in-law or something. How come he never saw the shooter? He thinks I fired at Lindbergh.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she brushed them away.
“How do you know what he thinks?”
“The way he looked at me.” Teddy's voice broke. “Like I was a big disappointment. He was probably mad 'cause I managed to get close to the stage. He had already run me off once. Most men don't like being upped by a woman. He's probably one of them.”
“Now who's making assumptions?”
Teddy scowled. “Who's side are you on?”
“Yours. But you're doing exactly what you're accusing everyone else of—making assumptions about people without any information. Where's my dig-till-she-gets-the-whole-story sister?”
“Maybe you're right.”
“Maybe?”
“Fine. You're right. So, what are we going to do about this?”
Lisa cleared her throat. “First, we're going to pray.”
“God doesn't care about me.”
Lisa held up her hand. “Says you, but God is in control whether you believe it or not. He has taken care of us ever since Mom and Dad died, and He'll continue to do so. We need to take this situation to Him.”
Teddy crossed her arms and flounced back in the chair. “Taken care of us? Are you kidding? What about the Cowboy-I don’t even want to say his name? Was God taking care of us then?”
“I don't know why He let that happen. The Cowboy was an evil man. But he can't hurt us anymore. God saw to that.”
“God had nothing to do with it. The man was drunk and fell down the stairs trying to molest you. He deserved to die.”
Tears rolled down Lisa's cheeks. “Let's not argue.”
Teddy's heart constricted, and she leaned over and hugged her sister. “I'm sorry, Leesee. Thanks for being here for me. You can pray, if you want to.”
Lisa gave her a tremulous smile and wiped the wetness from her face. “Okay.” She gripped Teddy's hands. “Dear Lord, we don't know why stuff like this happens. You must have a purpose we don't know about yet. Please keep Teddy safe through this ordeal and let the truth come to light. We know Teddy didn't try to kill anyone. Put the clues in the paths of the police, and help them find the man who did this. Thanks for taking care of us. Amen.”
“Thanks, Leesee.” The heaviness lifted, but Teddy squelched the thought the feeling was from God. She needed to devise a way to get out of the police station, and find the guilty party.
Lisa stood, concern etched on her face. “You should contact an attorney. Do you know anyone?”
“No, but I don't need a lawyer. I'm innocent.”
“You said it yourself; these guys don't think so. A lawyer will ensure you receive due process. I can ask the doctors at the hospital for a referral.” She leaned over and gave Teddy a quick hug. “I have to go back to work. I've got the night shift, and I couldn't find anyone to cover for me. Are you going to be all right?”
Teddy nodded and forced a smile. “How long can they keep me?”
Lisa gave her a long look then walked to the door and pounded on the metal. The door was opened by a policeman who moved aside to let Lisa pass. She looked back at Teddy for a moment before walking away. The door closed behind her with a bang.
Alone in the room, Teddy's bravado slipped. She wiped her damp hands on her pants. How long would they keep her?
a
Ric shuffled through the folders on his desk then ran his hand over his head, the stiff hair of his crew cut bristling his palm. He stared out the window for several moments then his glance fell to the program booklet from the rally. His thoughts strayed to the young woman who’d been arrested. She was a plucky one.
He grinned at the memory of their first interaction at the event. During his rounds, he found her setting up her camera on a tripod. The equipment didn't seem to be cooperating, and her face had been etched in a deep scowl. Her beautiful face. He sat back in surprise. Whoa. Where had that come from? He shook his head but had to admit she was quite attractive. And feisty.
The woman was so close to the stage, she was practically on the platform. When he told her she needed to move, she gave him a tongue lashing his former captain would have been proud of. When she finished, he picked up her canvas bag and started to walk away. That's when she really let him have it. But he kept walking, and she had no choice but to follow him. She obviously relocated after he left. He should have kept a closer eye on her. The satchel was heavy. Had the gun been in the bag? Had he missed an opportunity to prevent a murder?
He shook his head. Water under the bridge. Unfortunately, the president of the local America First chapter was now dead, but the police were on it. He looked back at the pages that littered his desk, the handwriting on them cramped and illegible. In one motion he swept them off the surface and put his head in his hands.
Her eyes haunted him. Smoky-gray eyes framed by long lashes. Eyes that seemed to scrutinize everything. Eyes that dared him to believe she was innocent.
Help her.
Ric gaze shot to the door.
Help her.
He looked at the ceiling. Is that You, Lord?
Help her, My son. She needs us.
She doesn't seem to need anyone, Lord.
Everyone needs Me.
Ric stood and began to pace. Was she innocent? Should he take her case? He doubted she could afford his rates. How much did a freelance photographer make these days? He needed work that would pay his bills, otherwise it was back to the grind of a regular job. He shuddered at the thought.
He stopped and stared out the window. He did that a lot these days.
Help her.
A mirthless laugh slipped out. He had asked for a big case, and this one had fallen into this lap. Why was he so reluctant? If he was honest with himself, he knew why. She was a woman. Women lied, especially good-looking women. He had sworn off female clients after he discovered Bea's dishonesty.
He tossed one more look at the ceiling. God's voice still resonated in his head. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get any peace about this.
Ric snatched his Chesterfield from the chair and dug out his car keys from the side pocket. Without a backward glance, he left the office.
a
Teddy looked up as the door opened. Her breath caught at the sight of the squarely built man standing just outside the room. His chocolate-brown eyes were leveled on her face. The part of his face not covered with a closely cut, dark beard was tanned as if he spent a great deal of time outside. She didn't like facial hair, but on this man it enhanced his rugged good looks. The navy blue herringbone Chesterfield coat fit him as if tailor-made. Hands clasped in front of him, he bowed slightly. “May I come in?”
She barked a laugh. “Do I have a choice?”
He looked taken aback then seemed to recover. “Yes. You do.”
It was her turn to be flustered. “Forgive my manners. It's not every day I entertain guests in a holding cell.”
Expressionless, he entered the room then turned and gave the police officer a curt nod. The man closed the door with a thud.
He gestured to the seat across the table from Teddy. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Whatever you'd like.”
“Thanks.” He swung the chair around and straddled the back, resting his arms along the top. “My name is Ric Bogart.”
Teddy's eyes widened. “Bogart?”
“Yeah, no relation to Bogey. Although I wouldn't mind meeting Lauren Bacall.”
“I'm Teddy Schafer. Why are you here, Mr. Bogart?”
Teddy saw what looked like embarrassment cross his face. He shifted in the chair and ran his hand over the stubby hair on his scalp.
He sighed and laced his fingers together. “This is going to sound crazy, but bear with me.”
She lifted her shoulders. “What do I have to lose?”
“I'm a private investigator.”
“Not a security guard?”
“What? Oh, no. I was doing a favor for a friend of mine on the force. The cops expected a pretty big crowd and needed extra men to help. Anyway, I feel like I'm supposed to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Yeah, I think God sent me.”
“God?” Teddy felt foolish parroting his words, but she couldn’t seem to do anything else.
Ric stood and shoved aside the chair. “Let me explain. I'm a believer. Not always a very good one, but I try to pay attention to where God is leading me. I was sitting at my desk, and I could swear I heard Him say 'Help her.' He said it several times, and your face came to mind. I figured He was telling me I needed to take your case.” Ric’s face pinked, and he flopped onto the chair. “This doesn't make any sense to you, does it?”
“Actually, it does. My sister talks about hearing God all the time. As for me, we're not exactly on speaking terms.”
“So, you're not a believer?”
“I was, but that was a long time ago.”
“You can't lose your salvation, you know.”
“Why are you really here?” Teddy frowned. “Did God tell you to save my soul? I don't need that kind of help.”
“I'm sorry. I'm making a mess of this, aren't I? Let's begin again. Whether you believe me or not, I think God has tasked me with taking your case. To prove your innocence. Are you willing to let me do that?”
Teddy studied her hands. Was he the answer to Lisa's prayer? Was God watching out for her like Lisa said? Doubtful. This guy probably liked the idea of a high-profile case. Charles Lindbergh made the newspapers regularly. Why not ride the coattails of that kind of press? It might give his little PI business a boost.
“Miss Schafer?”
She looked up to find him staring intently at her. Her heart beat a little faster, and her palms began to perspire. How could she be drawn to the man when she didn't trust him?
He cleared his throat. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm the only chance you've got. I don't think the New York City Police Department is motivated to let you go as a suspect. Catching you with the weapon makes it easy for them to close the case and move on.”
Teddy licked her dry lips. “Unfortunately, Mr. Bogart, I happen to agree with you. But I don't have to like it. And we need to set some ground rules.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Schafer.”
“The first order of business is to get me out of here.”
“I've already started those proceedings.”
“What?”
“I said—”
“I know what you said. I find it hard to believe.”
He smiled. “How else will we find the guilty party?”
She sagged against the back of the chair. “I guess the other rules can wait.”
- Writer
