Witness by Susan Page Davis Page B

ten minutes. In his honest opinion, if she had a psychologist to pour her heart out to once a week, she wouldn’t be thinking of divorce. But she had sneered at his suggestion of putting the money she was paying him toward counseling.
    At last she wound down and he reluctantly agreed to check out her attorney husband’s movements on Wednesday night, when he claimed he had a business meeting over dinner, after which he planned to attend the city council meeting. Sounded simple enough.
    Joe hung up with a sigh. This type of case always brought back memories of his teenage years, when his father had walked out on the family. Maybe he’d chosen the wrong profession, after all. Divorce cases were definitely not his favorite. But memories of his mother’s situation always made him sympathetic with the victim.
    He wondered if he’d look too eager if he went back over to the gift shop. Immediately, he discarded the idea. Petra was busy; it would be better to wait until she came to him. He didn’t want to smother her. Still, he didn’t want to hang around the office all morning. He’d head over to the police station and see who was on break.
    The decision made, he jotted his itinerary for Wednesday evening in the appointment book and slid it into his desk drawer. Before he could rise, the door opened. His heart leaped, then faltered.
    Petra stepped inside, and the look on her face told him that he’d been right. Her pleasant attitude at the gift shop had been a mask covering her fear.
    He jumped up and walked toward her, his hands extended. “Come sit down. Tell me what happened.”
    She pulled in a raspy breath and took the chair he offered. “Last Wednesday night a man was lurking in the parking lot at the hospital when I got off work. It was dark, but I thought…” She licked her lips, then met his gaze. “I thought it was Rex. I ran back inside and called security. And the guard called the police.”
    Joe sat on the corner of his desk. “They called the P.D. because you saw someone hanging around the parking lot?”
    She shook her head. Her eyes dulled with hopelessness. “I made the mistake of saying the man looked like my neighbor. The guard called it in and told the dispatcher. The patrolman who responded had looked at my statement from the week before.”
    “Oh, boy.”
    “It gets worse. I told the officer I wasn’t sure, and when I thought about it, I realized it probably wasn’t Rex. But it was too late. They’d already sent a patrolman to his house to make sure he was tucked in safe and sound.”
    “Sounds reasonable. They were doing all they could to protect you.”
    “Yes. Unfortunately, I’m now considered the girl who cried wolf.” She brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Joe, the same officer who responded the night I saw the murder went to Harwood’s house and got him up at midnight. He told Rex I said he’d stalked me in the parking lot, which wasn’t what I’d said.”
    “And?” Joe watched her closely, taking in every gesture, every movement of her eyes. She looked directly at him. She was scared, but so far as he could tell, she was giving it to him straight.
    “There was an incident a month or so ago. My dog, Mason, got loose and somehow wound up in Rex’s yard. I’d barely spoken to the Harwoods before that, but they’d always been civil over the fence. But Rex got angry when Mason went over there, and he called the animal control officer. I apologized and offered to pay for any damage. He declined the offer. I could see that it wasn’t anything serious. Since then, I’ve kept a close eye on Mason.”
    Joe waited. This was leading somewhere.
    She laughed without humor. “He told the cops Wednesday night that I was harassing him because he’d called the dog officer on me. The way he tells it, I made up this story of him strangling a woman to get even with him. But I wasn’t mad at him when it happened. I was upset with myself for letting Mason get loose. I still