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Steele In Pursuit
Part Two
James Jarvis' attention focused on Laura Holt Steele. "Then-, Thomas Holt was your father."

Laura nodded. "You mentioned an- accident of some kind-"

"A hit and run."

"Then - you don't know who killed him," Laura said dully.

Steele's eyes were on Laura, filled with concern as he watched her. "None of the witnesses were able to give us more than make, model and color," Jarvis said. "It was probably some kids joy riding -"

"Then why are you here, Lieutenant?" Laura asked, "Or have you finally transferred to traffic accidents?"

"I was on my way home when I saw the ambulance," he explained, "Thought I'd stop. When I found that card," he nodded toward the card in Steele's hand. "I know this probably isn't a good time, but- I need to ask a few questions."

Laura took a deep breath, then nodded, gathering that cloak about her again, Steele decided. It was her armor - her protection against pain. "Why don't we sit down?" he suggested, joining Laura as she sat on the sofa. He wanted to be close to her just in case she needed him.

"What -" Laura stopped, regaining her composure. "What did you need to know, Lieutenant?"

He glanced at Steele, seeing the concern there, before asking, "Did your father live in Los Angeles?"

"No. He- traveled a lot -"

"When had you last seen him?"

"Fourteen years ago," Laura said quietly.

"Fourteen-" Jarvis glanced at Steele again. "Do you know where he'd been during that time?"

"No. He left when I was sixteen and I didn't hear from him again until this afternoon," Laura told him. Steele put his arm around her, knowing he was risking her anger. But he didn't care.

"Why did he come back?"

"To see Frances and me," she said. "He was supposed to have dinner here this evening. To discuss where he'd been, why he left -"

Jarvis scratched his head, then pointed to the door. "That's who you thought I-" He gave her his best "Huck Finn" grin. "Sorry, Mrs. Steele. If I'd known -"

"You had no way of knowing, Lieutenant," Steele quickly assured him.

"If you hadn't talked to him," Jarvis decided, "then there's no way you could know if he felt his life was in danger in any way -"

"He mentioned- something about it," Laura confessed. "But he didn't go into any details. Why?"

"It's just that- the way the witnesses described it, the car that hit him was shadowing him- waiting for him to move into the street. The driver never tried to stop, never swerved."

"Are you sure it's him?" she asked.

Jarvis indicated the drivers' license. "It was him, Laura. Older, but -"

"What if you're wrong? What if it wasn't him?" she asked, and Steele frowned, hearing the desperation in her voice.

"Laura-" he began, but she continued.

"Don't you see? If he was trying to escape his problems, what better way than to fake his death and disappear again? We had a client that did that once, remember?"

"It wasn't our client. It was his brother," Steele told Jarvis, who was frowning as deeply as Steele. "Laura, I doubt that-"

"I want to see him, Jarvis," Laura decided, her voice firm as she made her decision. "I have to be certain that it's really him."

"All right, Mrs. Steele. I'll drive you down to the morgue-"

"We'll follow you, Lt. Jarvis," Steele said, as he and the police detective rose.

Once the door closed, Steele went to the kitchen and took care of things there, then went back to the living room to see Laura still sitting on the sofa, her eyes fixed on the object in her hand. He sat down beside her again. "What if it *is* him, Laura?" he asked.

"Then we find out who killed him," Laura declared. That iron will of hers would carry her only so far, Steele knew.

He rose to his feet, holding out his hand. "Well, if you're certain you want to do this- let's go."

**********

Laura hated morgues. It was one reason she and Murphy had been such a good team. He hadn't minded spending time with attendants with black humor and medical examiners more used to working with dead bodies than live people. Laura on the other hand didn't like dead bodies. They made her nervous. Most of the time she managed to hide it behind her professional facade, but this visit was different.

The room seemed huge as she stood beside the door that Jarvis opened for her and Steele to enter. The attendant left the room after speaking quietly to Jarvis, and Laura stood there, her gaze fixed on the sheet draped slab across the room. "Thanks, Howie," Jarvis said as the door closed. He looked at Laura. "You ready?"

Laura took a breath, but couldn't make her feet move. What if it *was* him? she asked herself. What if she'd found him again only to lose him? She hung back, feeling an arm go around her. "Laura? If you'd rather not-"

She shook her head, letting his arm remain where it was as she took a step, then another, her footfalls echoing loudly in the small room with its clinical air. At last she stood beside the table, looking at the white sheet. She felt the arm tighten slightly as Jarvis lifted the sheet. It was him.

When Laura didn't say anything, Steele nodded at Jarvis, who placed the sheet over Thomas Holt's body. "I'm sorry, Laura. If there's anything I can do-"

"Have they found the car that hit him?"

"Not yet."

"When they do, I want to know about it."

"It's a police matter, Laura," he reminded her. "Let us handle-"

"He was *my* father, Lieutenant," she reminded him. "And *I'm* going to find the person who's responsible for his death. With or *without* your help."

"Laura, he might have a point-" Steele began, but she turned toward him. "Then again- Why don't we go home? We can discuss this tomorrow - after a night's sleep?" he suggested.

Laura whirled on her heel and left the room without a word. "Is she going to be all right, Steele?"

"She just needs time, Jarvis," Steele assured him. "Thanks," he said, shaking the shorter man's hand before preceding him into the hall.

"I'll be in touch. And if you happen to find out anything else about why Holt came back to LA - or why he left fourteen years ago-"

Steele nodded thoughtfully. "I'd better go and catch up Laura before I wind up having to call a cab."

Jarvis watched him walk down the hall as Howie returned. "You finished in there, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Yeah. Thank you." He turned toward the elevators that would take him to his office. Maybe someone had that information he'd asked for about Thomas Holt's background. He had an idea that Laura Holt Steele wasn't telling him everything she knew.

*********

As he drove through the streets toward Rossmore, Steele glanced at Laura. "Why didn't you tell Jarvis everything that your father told you?"

"Because I'm going to find his killer. I think it's the same person who caused him to run away fourteen years ago, and it's *past* time justice was served."

"Laura, you've had a nasty shock-"

"And I'm not thinking clearly," she finished. "I know the routine. This is something that I *have* to do, Remington," she said quietly. "I don't expect you to understand -"

Heartened by the fact that she had actually called him by something other than "Mr. Steele", he reached across to take her hand. "I do, Laura. I do."

**********

Steele turned over, intending to pull Laura to his side. But her side of the bed was cold and empty. A flash from the window revealed that it was raining outside. In the silence that followed the thunder, he heard soft sobs from the living room. Recalling another stormy night, Steele got out of bed and pulled on his robe, finding her in the same spot she'd been the last time, sitting on the hearth, her face a tearful mask. He moved to pull her into his arms. "Shall I make some coffee?" he asked.

"No. No cof-fee," she said.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call Frances? Have her come over-"

When he made to move toward the phone, Laura's arms tightened around him, and she shook her head. "No. All I want is for you to hold me," she said.

"That I can do," he promised, kissing the top of her head. "For as long as you want me to."

"He's gone again," she said. "He's really gone this time." Her voice wavered and broke. "And I never told him - told him that -that I forgave him," she cried as the damn burst and she began to cry.

"Shh," Steele whispered soothingly. "He knew, sweetheart. He knew." He held her until her tears stopped. He didn't think that he could tell her a story that would help this time. The last time he'd told her a story about possibilities. At the moment, he couldn't think of any story that would make this better. But he might be able to make her smile again. "Did I ever finish telling you that story about the two brothers and the cat that one of them owned?"

She smiled slightly. "I think so. Didn't make anymore sense *after* you told me than it did before." She rested quietly in his arms for a moment. "He came here looking for my help," she told him."

"You don't know that, Laura-"

"He came to *me*," she insisted. "I couldn't have done anything to help him fourteen years ago. I was only a kid. But now I'm Laura Holt Steele, Private Detective. Maybe if he didn't know that, he might not have come back- and he'd still be alive."

"And you'd still be wondering where he was and why he left you in the first place," he pointed out. "It's always better to have the answers, Laura Believe me." He stood up, pulling her along with him. "Let's go back to bed. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Perhaps Mildred will have that information about your father that she started looking for yesterday."

Laura nodded, following him into the bedroom. He tucked her in, then went to the other side of the bed, removing his robe and joining her. He pulled her against him, feeling her shuddering breath. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

She turned over so she could look at him. "For being here."

"Always, Laura," he promised, touching his lips to hers. "Always."

To Be Continued . . .
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