Free Sleep Don't Come Easy by Victor McGlothin Page B

but I’m confused. Both her car and the shelter were in the opposite direction,” she said, thinking out loud. “If she were headed for her car, then what would make her run in the opposite direction? And what would make her run past the shelter if she knew you were still there?”
    â€œYou got me,” he said, frustrated. “The cops have been grilling me since it happened, and I don’t know what to tell them, Fatema. Because I don’t understand it either. I was there for at least another half hour, and then I went home.”
    â€œThey say she was killed between eleven and three in the morning. It’s like, she never left?”
    â€œMaybe she stopped at one of the bars for a drink or met someone,” he speculated. “I’m just guessing.”
    Fatema had speculations of her own. “I wonder where Shaw was that night?”
    Nelson couldn’t believe where she was going with this. “You don’t think—I mean the man had it bad for her, Fatema, but I don’t think he had it bad enough to—he’s got too much to lose to do something crazy like that.”
    â€œHe’s got too much to lose to be cheating on his wife too, but that didn’t seem to stop him. I’m not saying anything except that maybe he’s the reason she didn’t go straight home. I’m not saying he did this.” But she was thinking that it was a possibility. Men killed women they loved all the time. It was that if-I-can’t-have-you-no-one-can syndrome. It was a stretch, but Fatema was just considering it. That’s all.
    â€œWell, it’s possible, I guess. She worked a few blocks from The Broadway too, so maybe she saw someone she knew and they stopped off for coffee or something.”
    â€œMaybe. I did a story a few years back for PBS called Invisible People: The Plight of the Homeless in America. Did you ever see it?” she asked, hopeful that someone saw the damn thing.
    His eyes lit up. “That was you? I watched it a couple of times. Even taped it.”
    â€œReally?” she asked proudly. “Yeah, that was me. My hair’s different now, and I’ve actually lost a few pounds.”
    â€œI thought you looked familiar. I kept wondering where I’d seen you before. It was a great piece, by the way. Very informative and real. You really touched on some issues most people don’t want to acknowledge.”
    â€œThanks. I really tried to—anyway, we filmed a few days with a man named Lazarus. Lazarus was absolutely fascinating.
    â€œHe’d spent twenty-three years in prison for a vehicular homicide that occurred when his car collided with another, killing a man and his six-year-old daughter. Lazarus suffered some pretty serious head injuries, but he survived and went to prison, and ended up living on the streets after he got out.”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œWell, he actually used to live under that viaduct where they found Toni’s body. Years ago, it was where he used to sleep almost every night. Apparently, he had his accident not too far from there and there’s this spiritual connection or something that draws him to that place.”
    â€œYou think he could’ve been there that night?”
    She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, and gloated. “If he’s still alive, then I’d be willing to bet money on it. It’s dark in some of the corners and nooks and crannies down there, Nelson. A person could hide there and not be seen.”
    â€œWell, if he was there, why do you think he wouldn’t stop something like that from happening?”
    â€œHe’s crazy.”
    Nelson looked at her like she was grasping for straws.
    â€œI know it’s a long shot, Nelson, but I think it could possibly be a lead of some kind. Lazarus is crazy, but he’s a creature of habit too. He may have been there and he may have seen something. Even if he didn’t actually