Gracie remarked and adjusted the clip that held back her unruly mane of slightly curly red hair.
The three settled in along with dogs in the living room. Terry unloaded her story with some hesitation. She’d been working on her doctoral dissertation at Seneca University, a small private school outside of Albany. Gracie wasn’t familiar with it, but apparently it had one of the few library science programs in the state. Terry was hired as the head of database and cataloging management after she had earned her MLS there.
“I worked a lot of nights because it was easier to run reports off the system after hours. My boss was the library director, and he was also the chair of my doctoral committee. He worked late himself, quite a bit. He was a real New York history expert, which was a bonus for me since my dissertation was about the Iroquois nation’s part in the Revolutionary War, the spy networks, and things like that.” She stopped and drew a breath to continue. “He sometimes had late night visitors, but I really didn’t pay much attention.”
“Something happened, didn’t it?” Tom stated.
“It did.” Terry brushed wisps of hair from her face. “My office was just down the hall from his.” She hesitated again. “I could hear some sort of argument that night. There was some shouting … and then … it was quiet.”
“What happened?” Gracie slid forward in the chair, hands propped under chin, elbows on her knees.
“The door slammed, and I heard someone coming down the hallway. I didn’t want to be seen, so I hid behind a pile of copier paper cartons that I hadn’t put away yet.” She stood and thrust her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “Whoever it was came in and looked around, but didn’t see me, or so I thought. It was a miracle. A real miracle. He left, and then I went to Dr. Aaron’s office.”
Gracie could see her lips tremble as she continued.
“The office was trashed, and so was Dr. Aaron. His head was—” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. “He was dead.”
“Oh, my gosh! Somebody killed him? When was this? Who was it?” Gracie sputtered.
Tom rose and went to the kitchen. He poured some coffee into a mug and returned to the sofa.
“They don’t know. And that’s why I’m here in Deer Creek. I had to get out. The police questioned me forever, and I thought they were going to charge me in the beginning. But they didn’t.”
“They have no idea who did it?”
“I guess not, but someone started following me a couple of weeks after the murder. That’s why I got Sable and Max. The police sort of checked into it and said to contact them if I was threatened. I don’t think they really believed me.”
“So, when did this all happen?” Gracie asked.
“It was the middle of November. Everything about my life has been totally screwed up since then.” Terry sat wearily in an armchair next to the fireplace.
“So, you left the university and came here?” Gracie was pretty sure she knew the answer.
“Yes.” Terry chewed her lip and continued. “I think the killer saw me, even though I thought I was out of sight. When I got the interview with the library here, I dropped out of my doctoral program, put my stuff in storage, and left.”
“Hey, you don’t think the fire was …” Gracie started.
“Gracie, the fire was bad wiring, pure and simple,” Tom said matter-of-factly.
“I know it was, but with all that you’ve been through, Terry … you must have thought …”
“The worst,” Terry finished. “I did. It was a relief to know that it wasn’t arson.”
Tom leaned against the back of the sofa. “Any video cameras get a look at this person?”
“No. The library is pretty old, and there were no cameras inside. Just in the parking lot. The cameras in the parking lot didn’t catch this man. He must have left by way of the Quad. There were only five cars in the parking lot. Three belonged to students, and then mine and the