Before He Lapses

The door was answered by a well-groomed man who looked to be in his late forties. He wore a pair of trendy eyeglasses and was dressed in a blazer and khakis. Based on the smell wafting out of the door from behind him, he was enjoying Chinese takeout for dinner.

“William Holland?” Ellington asked.

“Yeah. And who are you?”

They both showed their badges at the same time, Mackenzie taking a single step forward as they did. “Agents White and Ellington, FBI. We understand that you left your job at Queen Nash recently.”

“I did,” Holland said with some uncertainty. “But I’m confused. Why would that warrant a visit from the FBI?”

“Can we come in, Mr. Holland?” Ellington asked.

Holland took a moment to think before conceding. “Sure, yeah, come on in. But I don’t…I mean, what is this about?”

They entered the doorway without answering. When Holland closed the door behind them, Mackenzie took note. He’d shut it slowly and firmly. He was either nervous or scared—or, more likely, both.

“We’re here in town investigating two murders,” Ellington finally answered. “Both Queen Nash students, both females, and, as we’ve learned today, both advised by you.”

They’d entered Holland’s living room by then and Holland wasted no time in plopping down into a small lounge chair. He looked up to them as if he truly did not understand what they were telling him.

“Hold on…you’re saying two?”

“Yes,” Mackenzie said. “Did you not know?”

“I knew about Jo Haley. And the only reason I knew that was because we’re notified by the provost whenever a student that we work with passes away. Who is the other one?”

“Christine Lynch,” Mackenzie said, studying his face for a reaction. There was a flicker of recognition there, but very little. “Do you recognize the name?”

“Yes. But I…I can’t recall the face. I had over sixty students, you know.”

“That’s another thing,” Ellington said. “The had of it all. We hear that you quit your job shortly before winter break. Did that have anything to do with the rumors that you were seeing one of your students?”

“Ah, Jesus,” Holland said. He leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. He massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Yes, I’m dating a student. I knew word was getting around and what that might do to both my career and her academic career. So I quit my job.”

“Just like that?” Mackenzie asked.

“No, not just like that,” Holland snapped. “We’d been sneaking around for months and I’ve fallen in love with her. She feels the same. So we talked long and hard about it, trying to figure out what to do. But during that time, it somehow became public knowledge. And that sort of made the decision for us. But…what does any of this have to do with the murders?”

“We’re hoping nothing,” Ellington said. “But you have to see this the way we see it. We have two murdered students and the only firm link between the two of them is that they share you as an academic advisor. Add to that the fact that you’re having a fairly open relationship with a student…”

“So you think I’m a suspect? You think I killed those girls?”

Saying the words out loud seemed to make him sick. He placed his glasses back on and sat up in the chair, hunched over.

“We’re not sure what we think right now,” Mackenzie said. “That’s why we’re here to speak with you.”

“Mr. Holland,” Ellington said, “you just told us that you could not really place Christine Lynch’s face. How about Jo Haley?”

“Yes…I knew her rather well, actually. She was a friend of the woman I’m currently seeing.”

“So Jo Haley knew about the relationship?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think that Melissa—that’s my girlfriend—would tell her. We tried our best to remain very discreet.”

Mackenzie took a moment to think. The fact that his girlfriend had known one of the victims—and that the victim could have potentially known about the taboo relationship—certainly painted Holland in a worse light. It made her wonder why he would so voluntarily offer up all of this information without much of a fight.

“Forgive me for asking,” Mackenzie said, “but was this girlfriend of yours—this Melissa—the first student you’ve ever been involved with?”

A knot of frustration worked its way across Holland’s face and he got to his feet in a sudden flash of movement. “Hey, fuck you! I can’t…”

“Sit back down right now,” Ellington said, stepping directly into Holland’s path.

Holland appeared to realize his mistake right away, his expression going from one of resigned regret to anger, back and forth as he tried to settle on an emotion.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I’m sick and tired of being judged for this and I truly don’t appreciate being accused of screwing around with all students just because I happen to be involved in a current, responsible relationship with a consenting of-age woman.”

“How old are you, Mr. Holland?” Mackenzie asked.

“Forty-five.”

“And how old is Melissa?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Have you ever been married?” Ellington asked, taking a step back and relaxing his posture.

“Once. For eight years. It was miserable, if you must know.”

“And how did that marriage end?”

Holland shook his head and started making his way to the edge of the living room, where the foyer joined it. “Yeah, this conversation is over. Unless you plan on charging me with something, you can both get the hell out. I’m sure there are others at the college that can answer the rest of your questions.”

Slowly, Mackenzie made her way to the door. Ellington followed reluctantly behind. Mackenzie turned back to him, her gut telling her there was something here.

“Mr. Holland, you understand that by failing to cooperate, it makes it look much worse for you.”

“I’ve dealt with that for the last month or so of my life.”

“Where’s Melissa right now?” Ellington asked. “We’d like to speak with her as well.”

“She’s…” But Holland stopped here, again shaking his head. “She’s been dragged through the mud, too. I won’t have you bothering her over this.”

“So you aren’t answering any more of our questions,” Ellington said. “And you’re refusing to give us the location of someone else we need to speak with. Is that correct?”

“That’s absolutely correct.”

Mackenzie could tell that Ellington was getting riled up. She could see his shoulders going tense and his posture going as rigid as a stone slab. She reached out and gently touched his arm, anchoring him.

“We’ll take note of that,” Mackenzie said. “If we need to speak with you again in regards to this case and it’s discovered that you aren’t home, we’ll consider you a viable suspect and you will be arrested. Do you understand that?”