Time of Departure by Douglas Schofield Read Free Book Online

looked at me. “Daniel James Calder. Know him?”
    I recalled a sordid trial, an audio recording of a rage-filled voice mail message, and the partly reconstructed face of a weeping, terrified woman on the witness stand. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I nodded wearily.
    â€œI got him the full five for breaking his ex-wife’s face.”
    Geiger sighed. “Another dissatisfied customer.” He made a show of checking his ultracool TAG Heuer Monaco watch, flipped his book closed, and said, “Okay, Ms. Talbot, you know the drill. Come in tomorrow and we’ll take a statement. I’m on at four.”
    I thought the “Ms. Talbot” formality was a bit odd, but then there was a stranger in the car.
    Geiger shifted his attention to the man sitting behind me. “You, too, Mr. Hastings. Can you drop by our office tomorrow?”
    â€œSure.”
    Geiger passed his business card over the seat. “Pretty gutsy, by the way. Taking on the guy like that.” The words “at your age” were implied but unspoken.
    â€œI used to be on the job.”
    â€œYeah? Guess you haven’t lost your touch. How did you happen to be here? Just right time, right place?”
    â€œSomething like that.” I sensed from my rescuer’s tone that he wanted to end this conversation. He confirmed that impression with: “Are you done with us?”
    â€œYes, sir. For now.”
    â€œMind letting me out?” he asked.
    Geiger pressed the security button under the dash, and the rear locks gave an audible click. “Times have changed since your day, Mr. Hastings. Everything’s electronic.”
    â€œI suppose that’s good in some ways,” Hastings replied. “Not in others.” He opened the door and got out.
    I followed suit. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” I said to Geiger as I stepped out of the car.
    Hastings stood waiting. “I’d better walk you back to your car.”
    I decided to let him. “Thank you for coming to the rescue.”
    â€œMy pleasure, Miss—”
    â€œClaire is fine.”
    â€œMarc. Marcus, actually, but no one’s called me that since grade school.”
    â€œSo you’re an ex-cop.”
    â€œHere in town. Before your time.”
    â€œInteresting.”
    We reached my car. I turned to face him. “When you made that 911 call, you knew my name and my job. That’s not just from being in my courtroom that day, is it?”
    He smiled faintly. “No, it isn’t.”
    â€œI’m guessing it was no accident that you were in this parking lot tonight. Am I right?”
    He was silent for a second. “I left you a file.”
    â€œI figured that was you. Why?” Uneasiness stalked my thoughts. I pressed him. “Why were you in this parking lot?”
    â€œI wanted to talk to you.”
    â€œHave you heard of making an appointment?”
    â€œWould you have given me one without knowing what it was about?”
    He had me there. “Maybe … eventually.”
    â€œEventually?”
    â€œYes, eventually. After I’d had you arrested, I might have dropped by the lockup to ask you why you’ve been stalking me.”
    â€œYou would never have done that.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHad me arrested.”
    â€œYou sound confident.”
    â€œI am.”
    I opened my car door. “I assume you want to talk to me about those missing women?”
    â€œYes.” He held the door for me while I slid behind the wheel.
    I looked up at him. “That file made me sick.”
    â€œIt’s made me sick for thirty years.”
    â€œNo, I mean—”
    â€œYou mean physically. You read it, you started to perspire, and you had to run to the washroom.”
    My expression must have registered surprise and roiling suspicion, but he made no effort to explain. He just stood there … looking haunted.
    I had a sudden, overwhelming feeling that I