Lisa Scottoline - Daddy's Girl

I thought you wanted space. Which is it, space or time?

Nat thought about calling Hank, but he’d tell her to turn herself in.

We can figure out the best thing to do, together.

She went to the phone, double-checked the number on her palm, and called.

Nat showered, dried off, and put the same clothes back on, having no other choice. She brushed her teeth with a finger and combed her hair so it was less Bart Simpson, then put on some makeup, pretend-ing that she wasn't wanted for murder. Her eyes looked back at her from the mirror, a darker brown against the contrast of the blond, They looked worried, too, but that had nothing to do with Revlon. She vanished all negative thoughts. She had work to do.

She went to the bed and picked up the prison file, but a packet of blueprints fell onto the patterned rug. She got the packet and took it to a little veneer table, where she spread it out so that it dropped over the sides like a tablecloth. A hanging light with a gold-toned shade hung over the table, casting a circle on a floor plan of the prison, before remodeling.

On the plan, she could see the entrance of the prison, the control center, the cafeteria, the classroom where she'd been attacked, and, on the other side, the room in which Saunders and Upchurch had been killed. She turned to the second page, which was HVAC, then turned to the third page. It was the electrical plan, the schematics that showed the wiring.

She eyed them, then looked closer. She could see the straight black lines that would have been wiring for the security cameras, because they went to a central spot in the ceiling, which she gathered was the silver orb Angus had mentioned. She compared the wiring in the room where Saunders and Upchurch had been killed. There was no such wiring. No security camera.

Nat double-checked. She could see the wires going to the other security cameras, but the room where Upchurch had been killed had no such pattern of wires. She followed the black lines of wiring to the other staff rooms on that side of the hallway. There were three staff rooms, and they all had wiring for security cameras, except for one at the end of the row nearest the RHU pod.

She mulled this over. She didn't ask Graf why he and Saunders had taken Upchurch into that room in particular. She had assumed it was because it was the security office, but maybe it was because it didn't have a camera. Graf had to have known that. If he didn't know it before the remodeling, he would certainly have known after. His brother had the schematics, and even a professor could read them.

She felt as if she were onto something. So Graf knew that whatever he did in that room wouldn't be recorded. It suggested a degree of premeditation that gave another lie to Graf's version of events. So either Upchurch had been involved in dealing drugs, or he'd simply found out that Graf and maybe Saunders were. So what did Upchurch do exactly that merited execution? His killing seemed like an overreaction to skimming profits or a double-cross of some kind. Why bother killing him, given the risk? Why not simply make his life miserable?

Nat felt stymied. What if Mrs. Rhoden had been right, and Upchurch was a quiet little guy who never bothered anyone? A victim of teasing, first by schoolkids and later by Graf. It forced her to re-analyze the problem, which led her to a startling question: What if Upchurch wasn't the intended victim that morning? What if it was Saunders whom Graf had intended to kill? What if Graf merely used Upchurch as an excuse, to catch Saunders unawares?

She tested her theory. Could Graf have killed both Saunders and Upchurch? Was it even physically possible? She went through the steps in her mind. Say Graf brings the knife in. He kills Saunders, then Upchurch, then makes it look like Upchurch killed Saunders. Graf tells the lie to cover up his crime. So it was possible. If it was a cover-up, how high up did it go? At least to Machik, for all of the foregoing, as the lawyers say. But why would Graf have killed Saunders, his best friend? And if it happened that way, why hadn't Saunders told her that before he died? His keeping mum shot her whole theory.

Nat jumped at the sound of a knock, then walked over and peeked through the peephole. She couldn't deny the fluttering inside her chest at the sight of the familiar shaggy ponytail, thick gray sweater, and jeans. She opened the door.

"Natalie," Angus said softly, scooping her up into an embrace that lifted her off her bare feet, then quickly setting her back down. "Okay, that hurts. Sorry."

"My, jeez." Nat tugged her sweater down, flustered. That was a definite hug, wasn't it?

"Look at your hair! You're blond!" Angus ruffled her spikes with a hand.

"It's my disguise."

"You look so cute, like a little puppy! A little yellow puppy!"

Great. "I'm a felon, not a Labrador."

"It's a totally great disguise." Angus set a brown shopping bag on the bed. "I never would have known it was you at all."

"Good."

"You're still so pretty." Angus's eyes locked hers for an awkward moment, and Nat squirmed in the silence. It seemed too much, all of a sudden. A motel room with a bed, and the two of them alone together. She, newly single, and he, terminally sexy. Nat gestured to the bed… er, bag.

"What's in there?"

"Good stuff!" Angus seemed to snap out of the moment, his characteristic good cheer returning. He went to the bed and opened the bag. "I've got you everything you need to be a proper outlaw. Ready?" Sure.

"First, for the fugitive who has everything, voila!" Angus pulled a pink toothbrush out of the bag.

"My favorite color!" Nat laughed. It was fun to be silly, after today.

"I knew it. Blondes love pink."

"That's me, Fugitive Barbie."

"Now, for my next trick, check it out." Angus's hand went back in the bag and retrieved a twelve pack of king-size Snickers. "Nutrition!"

"Yummy!" Nat took the Snickers, the sight of which actually made her hungry. "Just the thing for the girl on the go. Literally."

"Snickers are one of the four basic food groups, which are pizza, The Strokes, California rose, and"-from the bag, Angus pulled a red-and-white Verizon box-"a new cell phone."

"Yay!" Nat took the box. "I'm back in business."

"Get ready." Angus held up a three-pack of Hanes white cotton underwear, bikini style. "Ta-da!"

"You bought me underwear?" Nat burst into astonished laughter, grabbed the pack, and swatted him.

"I'd never run from the law without clean underwear."

"So if they shoot me dead, I won't be embarrassed?" Nat eyed the package. "Size two? You think I'm a two? I can't fit my hand in a two!"

"What do I know?" Angus shrugged. "I don't want you thinking I spend lots of time imagining your adorable little butt, which I do. Just don't tell your boyfriend."

Nat stopped smiling. She felt guilty standing with Angus, holding undies.

"What?" Angus asked.

"We broke up."

"Am I supposed to act sorry?" He cocked his head matter-of-factly. "Because I'm not. I'm better for you, and we both know it."

Whoa. Nat hit him with the packet again, and he turned back to the bag.

"But that's beside the point now, because you're in jeopardy. There's a time and a place for everything." Angus plunged his hand in the bag, then turned around with a white bank envelope, which he presented to Nat. "My mother always said a girl needs mad money, and I haven't met a girl I'm as mad about in my life."

Gulp. "Are you serious?"

"About the money or you?"

Me. "The money."

"Absolutely."

Nat opened up the end of the envelope, exposing a thick stack of stiff new bills. "Yikes, how much is here?"

"A thousand dollars. Luckily my bank is open on Saturday. I had about three bucks on me when you called."

"Angus, I can't accept this."