Cold Case

Twenty-two years ago, controversial author David Etheridge and ambitious state senator Robert McCrutchen were investigated in the death of a young coed. But a circle of secrecy guaranteed the case was never solved.

When Etheridge returns to Eugene, Oregon, McCrutchen is his grudging host—until the senator is found shot dead. Now Etheridge is back where he was two decades ago—suspected of murder. Only this time, with the cold case reopened, he's facing a double charge.

Barbara must battle the prosecution and the court of public opinion, which has already tried and convicted Etheridge for both murders. As the pressure mounts, Barbara ties the past and present together, risking her own life to preserve justice.

Amy McCrutchen thought it was the first time she had ever really fallen in love. At fourteen, she had been in love before, but not for real. Billy Cook in fourth grade, then Johnny Stillman in sixth, but they didn't count, not like this. She and her best friend Greta had hovered on the outskirts of the big party that night, watching, commenting, giggling at the silliness of the celebrants, most of them in Robert's graduating class. Earlier, they had been banished from the family room, where the furniture had been pushed back against the walls for dancing. But they could still see everything, and they could help themselves to the plentiful food spread out on the dining-room table.

Earlier Amy had pointed out those she knew. "That's Chloe," she had said, indicating a girl in a red tank top and skintight white pants. "She and Robert are engaged. They're going to announce it tonight."

"She's pretty," Greta said.

Amy examined Chloe appraisingly. She had dark hair, almost black, straight, and halfway down her back. Her pants were so tight she couldn't sit down, and she bulged a little in them. "Too fat." She spotted Jill Storey and pointed. "She's prettier."

Jill was blond and slender nearly to the point of emaciation. She wore a black sheath that clung to her torso like a sealskin and flared at the hips. Her hair was cut short and curled about her face. She was the best dancer, Amy had decided.

"Too skinny," Greta said judiciously after studying Jill, "but she is pretty. Boy, can she dance! Who's that old guy dancing? He's good, too."

"Dr. Elders. He's not a real doctor, not like my dad, just a professor. They live next door." Her father was a surgeon, and he had gone to bed an hour earlier. Amy lowered her voice to a near whisper. "Mrs. Elders has something wrong with her. Leprosy or something. Her skin peels off, and she smells bad. She doesn't come out much."

Greta grimaced. "She peels? Like a sunburn?"

"Not like that. Great big flakes of skin, with red patches. All over. Face, arms, everywhere. It's yucky."

"Gross," Greta said. "That's too gross."

"Yeah, she can't go in the sun, or where it's hot or anything. He comes over a lot, but not her. She has to be in air-conditioning all the time." Amy shuddered. "And she's real fat."

"Double gross!" Greta said. And for a time they were both silent, savoring the grossness.

They danced on the deck, helped themselves to party food and watched. And later, hot and sweaty, Amy said, "Let's sneak some beer."

Greta grinned and nodded, and they picked up glasses

and made their way to the keg. Amy had half a glass and Greta was filling her own glass when Dr. Elders came out, closely followed by Amy's brother, Robert, both carrying empty glasses.

"Are you girls drinking beer?" Dr. Elders asked in a low, pained voice. "Amy, does your mother know you're drinking beer?"

Robert glared at Amy. "I told you kids to beat it, and put that beer down!" His words were a bit slurred and his voice was loud. "Get lost, brats!" Other guests had turned to look, to Amy's mortification.

Behind Robert, David Etheridge looked at her, rolled his eyes, shook his head and then winked. At that moment Amy fell in love.

Her mother walked out and said calmly, "Amy, why don't you and Greta make yourselves a sandwich and take it to your room."

Amy and Greta fled.

They had talked a long time, cursing Dr. Elders with the worst curse they could think of, that he would catch whatever it was his wife had, and that his nose would fall off. Secretly Amy wished the same fate on her brother, but she didn't say it aloud.

After Greta fell asleep, Amy was thinking dreamily of David, who had winked at her. She didn't know what color his eyes were, she realized. She had not paid attention before when she had seen him as just another one of boring Robert's stupid pals. She twisted and turned a short while, then put on a sweatshirt and jeans and cautiously made her way downstairs.

The party was a lot quieter, with piano and guitar music and a low murmur of voices the only sounds. She met no one and made her way out to the deck and beyond to a dogwood tree where she could see into the family room and hear the music but still be concealed in shadows.

There were only a few people left, gathered at the far end of the family room by the piano. The music was soft and dreamy, the spinning disco light turned off, and no one was dancing anymore. Several people were sitting on the floor; someone was sprawled on the sofa. Dr. Elders must have left, she was relieved to see. She spotted David, took a deep breath and sat down in the grass.

He would go out into the world and make a fortune, and the day she turned eighteen he would return and they would be free, run away, or maybe have a grand wedding with a diamond tiara and a ten-foot-long satin train for her, and a white tuxedo for him.

The kitchen lights dimmed, the patio door opened and her mother came out, paused a moment, then went to the far side of the deck, beyond the light from the family room and kitchen. Amy could not see her any longer, and she didn't think her mother could see her, either.

Her butt was getting cold and wet, she realized, shifting slightly, then she stopped moving. Jill Storey came out to the deck. She had a dark sweater over her shoulders. She passed the pale light to the family room and went to the railing on the side, where she became a dim figure. A lighter flared, then the glowing tip of a cigarette.

After a moment Robert followed Jill out, and Amy knew she was doomed. She was close enough for Robert to see her if he happened to glance her way. She scrunched down lower and pulled her sweatshirt up around her face.

Robert's voice, while not as loud as it had been yelling at her and Greta, was still quite audible as he drew near Jill.

"Hey, Jill baby, let's duck out of this, go up to my room for a little while."

"No way. Take Chloe," Jill said.

"Nah. You're the one, honey. We hit it off just right. Don't we?"

"I said no. Leave me alone."

"Not what you said a couple of weeks ago," Robert said.

"That was then. This is now."

"How 'bout you pay me back my twenty-five bucks, then? Take it out in trade?"

"You already took it out in trade. You got what you wanted, and so did I. Leave me alone," Jill said angrily.

Amy, freeing her eyes of the sweatshirt, watched the scene, frozen. Robert was slurring his words even more than he had been earlier, and he was swaying. He caught on to the rail near Jill. She moved back a step or two and he made a grab for her arm.

"You bitch! You just wanted the dough? Is that what you're telling me? You were in it for a lousy twenty-five? All smiles and come on, big boy, spread your legs for a lousy twenty-five. How many others? Spending money? Mad money? You liked it just fine then."

Jill's voice was furious as she said, "Liked it? Liked it! You disgust me, you and all the others. Stick it in, that's all you think of! Stick it in anything that moves. Think with your prick, that's all you know. Well, listen to me, you filthy ape. I don't need you now. I was going to be evicted, now I'm not. So beat it! Leave me alone!"

Amy drew in her breath sharply.

David had stepped out onto the deck. He crossed to stand close to Jill and Robert. "When you're ready to leave, I'll drive you home in your car," he said to Jill. "You're in no shape to drive tonight."

"So that's it," Robert cried. "You've got yourself a new patsy! I saw him pass you a key! You have the key to his apartment, don't you? You're moving in with him?" He was facing her, but his words were aimed at David as he said, "What's the deal for a key to an apartment—twenty-four-hour access? She'll keep her legs spread...