by Cara Putman
She froze at the image, her mind moving to the pictures of Kaylene’s and Kaydence’s bodies covered by white sheets.
“Emilie?”
She jerked, then she reached up trembling fingers and touched the mirror.
“Emilie?” The voice was closer, and Emilie closed her eyes and whispered a prayer.
God, I can’t do this anymore. I need Your help. All of my efforts are failing, and it’s too easy to imagine that Kinley will join her family. How can I save her? A tear slipped down her cheek, but she ignored it. I can’t, but You can. Give me wisdom and bring the truth to light. If I can be part of that process, use me.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the beginnings of peace reflected in her gaze.
“There you are.” Hayden stepped into the thin visage of the mirror. Her navy suit was slightly wrinkled from the day, but her lipstick looked fresh. “I wanted to let you know—” She stopped and stepped closer. Her head tilted as she studied Emilie, and her brows met in the crease over her nose. “What’s wrong?”
Emilie shook her head. “Nothing. Everything. But I’m praying about it.”
“Okay. Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t really know. I just need to move. I think I’ve gotten so trapped in everything we don’t know that I’m forgetting what we do have.”
“Sometimes you have to put it in front of a judge.”
“We’re definitely there. It’s got to happen tomorrow morning if we want to act before Kinley’s released.”
“Then you will, and knowing you, you will have a well-thought-out argument. Or a creative one.”
“I’m hoping for convincing.” Emilie forced a smile. “What do you need?”
“Nothing. You left the upstairs door cracked.” Hayden shivered, and Emilie knew where her mind had gone. “I let that rattle me. Wanted to see you were okay.”
“I am.”
“Sure.” There was skepticism in her voice, but Hayden took a slight step back, the signal that she would give Emilie the space she needed. It was one of her roommate’s characteristics that Emilie valued . . . the willingness to wait. But in that moment, she almost wished Hayden would push.
Hayden must have read the silent plea, because she reached for Emilie. “Hey, it’ll be okay.”
Emilie closed her eyes, refusing to cry over a nameless fear. She blew out a slow breath, then opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. “It all became too much for a minute.”
Hayden cocked a hand on her hip and made a so-what gesture. “We all have that moment some days. How can I help?”
“You could give me a ride to my car.”
“Did it break down?”
“No, but I must have. I thought walking home today would clear my mind. Instead, it muddied it further.”
“Of course it did. The heat index is over one hundred. I’ll get you a glass of water and then change. One ride coming up.”
“Thanks.” Emilie forced a grin and stepped into her bedroom. Five minutes later she was dressed in a pair of white denim capris and a gauzy shirt with butterfly sleeves. As she sipped the water with cucumber slices, she could feel it flow through her. Maybe she could blame the incident in the bathroom on dehydration. That sounded better than stress.
The drive back to the office was quiet, and when Emilie climbed out, Hayden leaned out the window. “Do you want me to wait?”
“No, go ahead.” If everyone was gone, she could take the opportunity to do a quick search of Rhoda’s office. That wasn’t something she’d tell Hayden though. “I need to do something, but I should be back in an hour or so.”
“All right. I’m meeting Andrew for dinner.” A soft blush colored her friend’s cheeks, matching her rose T-shirt. “See you when I get home.”
“I’ll wait up.”
Hayden rolled her eyes, then closed her window and pulled from the curb.
Emilie waited until Hayden turned, then tugged her office keys free of her purse. As she glanced at the parking lot, she saw that her car was the last one in the lot. Still, it felt like someone was watching her. She did a slow turn but didn’t see anyone. “Hello?”
She waited, though she knew her shadow wouldn’t answer if he were there. Her stalker liked the act of the chase. What happened when the chase ended or she stopped playing?
Time to get inside and away from whoever’s prying eyes were on her.
The key stuck in the lock as she tried to cram it in and twist. “Come on.”
She felt the gaze getting closer. You’ve read too much suspense, Emilie.
No, she’d lived too many clients’ stories. It took no effort for her mind to spin out what could happen if someone were watching. Finally, as she frantically twisted one last time, she felt the lock move.
She pulled the door and fell inside, letting the door fall closed beneath her weight. “Pull it together, Wesley.” She listened for the click of the lock reengaging.
The office was dark, so she flipped on a light before heading through the warren, making sure no one was in a darkening office. It would be hard to explain if someone stumbled on her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong . . . really. If she asked, normally Rhoda would be forthcoming. But her boss had forbidden her to pursue Kaylene’s case any further, and Emilie couldn’t help but feel something was going on.
She slipped through the open office door and sat at Rhoda’s desk.
Where would her boss put the files that contained the information she needed? She swiveled the chair to the wall of file cabinets behind Rhoda’s desk. When she handed Emilie files about various current clients, she tended to go to the cabinets immediately behind her desk. Could the files for old clients be on either side? Would she have filed Kaylene’s there? Where would she store the funders’ files?
It could take all night to pull each drawer and thumb through the sea of information. Emilie needed a strategy. She tugged on the first file drawer, but found it and the others locked. She turned to Rhoda’s desk and pulled out the junk drawer. Instead of an assortment of pens, erasers, paper clips, and other office supplies, Rhoda’s were neatly ordered to the point of compulsiveness. If she shifted the contents, Emilie had the feeling Rhoda would sense it as soon as she opened the drawer. So she settled for easing open the rest of the drawers, one at a time, and lightly fanning through the files, shifting them as little as possible.
Something was wrong with the last desk drawer. The contents didn’t go low enough to hit the true bottom. She eased back on the chair. To see why there was a gap, she’d have to remove the files. What would she find, and did she want to know it?
She eased the files out, careful to keep them in orderly piles for replacing. When the last files came out, she found a legal-sized expandable folder had been placed down on its flat side, creating a cheap false bottom. Emilie pulled it out and discovered a file resting beneath it. She eased it out and opened it. Kaylene’s file. She flipped through the pages and found several handwritten notes. Kaylene is regressing. Is it something happening at home? Could it be the gun safety classes? Are the challenges of escaping too real?
Why would Rhoda deny any knowledge of the gun if she had known all along about the classes?
Lindsey says she’s making progress, but is it fast enough? Need to get her out now. The date beside that note was only two weeks before Kaylene died. Why hadn’t Rhoda told her?
CHAPTER 44
Emilie heard a noise in the hallway and threw the file into her briefcase. She had to see if there was anything else in it that could help Kinley. She could come in early tomorrow to return everything. She hurriedly replaced the expandable file and then slid the other files on top, then she stood and looked around the desk and other surfaces. Everything looked as it had when she arrived.
She listened, but didn’t hear anything else, so she stepped into the hallway and flipped off the office light.
“What are you doing?”
Emilie dropped her bag. “Replacing a file.”
�
�You mean taking one.” Rhoda pushed Emilie back into her office. “Why were you searching my office?”
“I’m running out of time to help Kinley and needed answers.”
“And you couldn’t just ask me?”
“No.” Emilie winced as the light came back on. “I’m sorry, Rhoda, but I can’t ignore what’s happening. And neither could you.” She held up her bag. “Just tell me why you were hiding files on Kaylene and not telling me the whole truth.”
“You wouldn’t understand.” Her boss’s shoulders were set, and even in a velour running suit she looked intimidating.
“I’d like to.”
Rhoda gestured to a chair in front of her desk. “You might as well sit.” Then she walked behind her desk and sank to the chair Emilie had vacated.
“Why did you come in?”
“I have work I need to finish tonight.” She glanced around her domain. “I guess I know why you were here.”
“Help me understand.”
“Kaylene was a classmate of mine at Virginia.”
“What?” That was the last thing Emilie had expected Rhoda to say.
Rhoda nodded and then brushed her short hair behind her ears. “I was about ten years older. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. Kaylene and I had some classes together. After we graduated and she got married, we stayed in touch. When I sensed something was wrong, I asked her to come here.”
“When was this?”
“A couple years ago. This was not a new problem for her. It took time to rebuild her self-esteem, longer to form a plan.” She leaned back and deflated. “It wasn’t enough.”
“I wish I’d known all this, Rhoda. Did she tell you details about what was happening at home?”
“Just that Robert was escalating. It was enough to make her fear he’d turn on the girls, especially since Kaydence was becoming belligerent. Kaylene knew time was running out.”
“We all did.”
“And we couldn’t stop it.” Rhoda scrubbed her face with her hands. “I’ve wondered what we could have done differently.”
“I have too.”
“I tried so hard to help her. How could she use our help to hurt the girls and kill herself?”
“She didn’t.” Emilie heard the certainty in her words.
“You can’t know that.”
“But I choose to believe it until the police can give me irrefutable evidence. They haven’t.”
Rhoda shook her head. “You’re being stubborn.” She reached for a file. “I don’t know what to think, but I need to get this done tonight.”
“Is it anything I can help with?”
“Not unless you have the time and interest to write a grant proposal for Jordan Westfall. He might like to see your name on it. He seems to be fascinated with you.”
“I only met him briefly at the fund-raiser. I never spent any time with him until last night.”
A voice spoke from the doorway. “We weren’t friends.”
Emilie jolted as Rhoda paled. “Jordan?”
He gave a little bow. “Here to protect you, but I guess you don’t need that.”
“I don’t?” Emilie eyed him warily. Rhoda was shifting slightly in her chair, and Emilie worked to keep his attention on her. “How did you know I was here?”
“I always know where you are.” His smile was forced. “You only go a few places. It makes it easy to find you.”
“I suppose your bodyguards help.”
He stepped through the doorway, hands buried in the pockets of a hoodie that looked too warm for an August night. “Who said I need help?” He turned to Rhoda. “We meet again.”
“Mr. Westfall.” Her voice was hard yet not surprised, and she stilled her actions while she watched him.
“Let’s come back to the idea we aren’t friends.” Jordan sat in the chair next to Emilie, his gaze flitting between the two of them.
Emilie’s pulse pounded, but she knew she had to remain placid on the outside. Any indication she wasn’t comfortable with him would backfire. “I spent time this morning learning all I could about you.”
“Find it boring?” His voice sounded wounded, though his face remained a mask.
“Not at all.” She schooled her voice to a gentle tone, when what she wanted to do was yell at him to get out of her life and leave her alone.
He turned to Rhoda. “Selling my business was supposed to change that.” Jordan dug his fists more deeply into his pockets. Color slowly filled his face, the kind that mottled it and signaled anger.
She needed words that would calm the rising tension and buy time for her to entice Jordan to leave. “Jordan, it doesn’t matter. Tell me what you need. You have so much, it must be something important.”
“I want you.” His words sounded like those of a young boy, one looking for reassurance.
“You’ve accomplished so much. A Google search shows how many people see you.”
“But they don’t really. They see what they need from me. Like your boss there.”
“I don’t need anything.” Rhoda’s voice was firm and her gaze direct, but Emilie noticed her hands moving along the underside of her desk.
“Oh, but you do. You want a check. All I wanted was Emilie.” He looked at Rhoda and pulled a hand from his hoodie.
At a glint of metal Emilie inhaled sharply.
“Even when I came here to save your little agency.”
“We will gladly accept your donation, but you need to decide what you want to do.” Rhoda pursed her lips. “There are restrictions on how we can use funds.”
Jordan’s head jerked around, and he pointed a small gun at Rhoda. “I don’t need your help.”
With his attention deflected from her, Emilie tried to slide her hand into her pocket. It was too tight of a fit to slide her phone out. Darn skinny capris. Could she somehow get to the emergency screen? While Rhoda kept his attention, Emilie tried, but couldn’t get room to swipe. Her hands trembled and she felt a sinking sensation.
“Jordan, your help is valuable.” Rhoda’s voice was firm, the one she used with clients who were losing focus. It seemed to work, because Jordan straightened. “It’s the way you want to do it that needs finesse.”
“I’m a successful businessman.”
“You’re a brilliant businessman, but that doesn’t mean you know what’s best for our clients. This is a specialized enterprise.”
“I know that. I’m successful,” he yelled.
Rhoda’s eyebrows peaked in that look all mothers and women in authority had mastered, the one that warned that their baloney meter was pinging.
“Jordan, why me?” Emilie needed to buy Rhoda time. Maybe her boss would have more success reaching out for help. And if she delayed long enough, Hayden might notice she hadn’t come home. “You could have anyone in the world.”
“Then it’s all about the money. You don’t need my money. You could simply want me.”
“I understand wanting to be loved for who you are.”
“Exactly. But you were always unimpressed.”
“It’s not every day I sit in a box seat.”
“But you weren’t wowed.”
It was true. She’d been too creeped out by his attention to relax into the experience. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rhoda slip something from her desk. “What’s your dream, Jordan?”
His attention whipped back to Emilie as he frowned. “What?”
“You’ve accomplished so much already, but what’s next? What gets you up in the morning?”
“You.” He lifted his gun to aim at her chest. “You’re the one for me and no one else. But you never said thank you.”
Okay, now she was seriously scared. Emilie raised her hands in front of her, the muscle in her shoulder throbbing as she did. “When did you decide to follow me? Was it after the fund-raiser?”
“Yes. Someone else was watching you too. I tried to take care of him, but it didn’t work.”
“Was
that when you shot my car by accident?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen. I sent lots of flowers. Did you like them?”
“The roses? Yes, they were nice.”
“No, I sent irises. A field of them.”
Did he mean to the hospital? She’d received so many flowers, she’d lost track of who sent them. “Did you include a card?”
“You should have known they were from me.”
She could tell he was in deadly earnest. He believed things had happened exactly as he said. There would be no convincing him otherwise. “They were beautiful.”
Rhoda moved, and Jordan whipped his attention back to her. Rhoda had a small gun in her hand. Where had that been when Emilie checked the desk drawers?
Jordan pointed his gun at her again. “You didn’t want to do that, Ms. Sterling.”
“Oh yes, I did. You need to put that gun down and leave, Jordan.” She kept her gun locked on Jordan, but her words were for Emilie. “I will protect you, Emilie, in all the ways I couldn’t protect Kaylene.” She tightened her grip on the gun. “You can lower that gun now or when the police arrive, the choice is yours.”
Two shots rang out, a split second apart.
Emilie felt time slow.
Jordan turned to her. His gun wavered. “Help me.”
She turned to Rhoda.
Saw blood gush from her neck.
Her boss gurgled, shuddered, tried to breathe.
Blood poured everywhere.
Emilie turned back to Jordan, saw the gun.
Aimed at her.
CHAPTER 45
Emilie’s phone went to voicemail. If Reid wanted to reach her, he’d have to go to her. Normally he wouldn’t do that so late in the evening, but the word that Kinley would be released in the morning had hit his panic button. It was time to get his niece home, and he needed Emilie to make that happen. They needed to act.
He pushed the speed limit the whole way to Old Town and double-parked in front of her town house. When he pounded on the door he half expected a neighbor to call the police, but he didn’t care. He needed Emilie.