Dying Embers

by B. E. Sanderson

  She had better things to do anyway.

  The first few sites listed some of the alumni from Emma’s school, but no Peter. Since the names were usually provided by visitor input, it didn’t surprise her. If Peter hadn’t been inclined to register with those sites and hook up with old memories, she couldn’t blame him. She never registered for those things either. Sometimes the past was better left alone.

  Digging deeper, she hooked into a site with information input by the schools themselves. As long as Peter graduated, the chances were good he’d be in there somewhere.

  “I don’t know if this place has room service. Will a pizza do?” Frank said, breaking into her concentration.

  “Whatever works for… Hang on a second.” The entire graduating class of the year before Emma’s flashed onto the screen. “We’ve got four Peters from that year… And three from the year before that. What’s up with that?”

  “Peter’s a popular name around here?”

  “I wish Mrs. Parkkonen had given us something else to go on. A last name would’ve been nice, but even hair color would narrow it down some… Wait, what did she say about the time she met him?”

  “He was picking Emma up for some class they had together.”

  “Which one?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  Seven Peters were still too much to research without anything else to go on, but Lynn had to try. There had never been a piece of information she couldn’t find online, and she wasn’t about to start now. “Order a few pizzas. We’re going to be here a while.”

  “Since we’re officially off the clock, want a beer with that?”

  “You read my mind. And since you’re already making a beer run, I’m going to need a pack of cigarettes.”

  Frank started toward the door and stopped, doing a slow turn back to her. “You don’t smoke.”

  “When I’m at home, and working on the computer, I smoke like a chimney.” She leaned over the keyboard and began typing in earnest. Too many nights had been spent the same way, with the ashtrays growing deep around her. “It helps me relax so I can think.”

  “I don’t think they allow smoking in this motel room.”

  “Then pick up some of that fabric refresher while you’re out.” He opened his mouth. “I’ll pay whatever fines they slap on me if they catch me.”

  “You’re rationalizing…”

  “Probably. But right now, just do me a favor. Save the lecture for another time, and get me a pack so I can get going on this. The quicker you do, the quicker I’ll figure out which of the seven Peters is about to get himself killed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jace grimaced as a waitress set a steaming plateful of unrecognizable food in front of her. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to eating on the road,” she told Ben.

  He smiled. “You should’ve been with me when I was a road warrior. Every day in a different town, and I always seemed to land in the restaurant with the fewest stars and the most cockroaches. After a while, you learn to live with it.”

  “When were you in sales?”

  “For a few years before I went to the academy. In fact, I think it was the job that showed me I had to find a profession I actually felt proud about, even if it didn’t make me rich.”

  “Law enforcement here you come?”

  Ben’s chest rumbled with his deep laughter. “The hours stink, and the pay is bad, but the benefits are really awful. Seriously, though, I wanted a job that would make a difference.” He shoveled a forkful of what Jace hoped were hash browns into his mouth. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “Everyone needs their widgets, but if I didn’t sell them, people would still find another way to buy them or they’d live without them. You can’t really say the same about a police force.”

  “Then I guess we’re in the same boat.” Picking up a tiny morsel from her supposed omelet, she squinted her eyes and popped it into her mouth. It looked a whole lot worse than it tasted, but she hadn’t had real food in so long she almost wondered whether her taste buds had died. “Right and wrong. They’ve always been pretty clear to me, but I never could understand why other people couldn’t see the line between them. In a way, I guess I’m doing my part at keeping that line as clear as possible.”

  Jace’s cell phone tweeted its morning ‘hello’, but for once the sound wasn’t coming from her pocket. As she glanced toward the sound, her partner nudged the object across the table to her.

  She mouthed her thanks as she answered. “What have you got for me?”

  “We think his name is Peter,” Frank said, “but we don’t have a last name or description yet. Lynn spent the night chain smoking and working the problem. I’m like a fifth wheel here, so I thought I’d call and see if you had anything we could go on.”

  After scribbling the name on a napkin, she turned it for Ben to see. “You’re ahead of me on this right now. Any idea where this Peter person might be?”

  “The mother thought he might’ve gone west, and he might be a lawyer. Other than that, she didn’t seem to remember much about him. She did confirm that Emma knew all of the victims we’ve identified so far. From the sounds of it, the lady’s maternal instinct is still on overdrive even though she hasn’t seen Emma in years.”

  “How so?”

  “According to Mama Parkkonen, everything bad that ever happened to Emma was someone else’s fault—usually some man’s.”

  “Classic enabler?” she said.

  “Sounded that way to me, but you’re the profiler.”

  Why she hadn’t recognized that tone as a man being sick of sitting in the background she’d never know. Once she realized she’d heard it for years, she could kick herself. “Come off it, Frank. You have great instincts. All you need is experience, and I need to apologize for not letting you get it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, if I hadn’t had a strangle-hold on your skills, you could’ve been a field agent years ago.”

  A harsh scoff slapped at her from across the country. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I was needed more in the office than in the field.”

  “That’s not the point,” she said. “I needed you in the office, true, but not as much as you needed to be in the field. I should’ve pushed you out a long time ago. From the sounds of it, you should’ve knocked me out of your way yourself.” She laughed at the thought of Frank pushing anyone down to get his way, but even as the humor bubbled within her, it stopped. Frank could be pushy when he wanted to, and tough as nails when she needed him to be. Why she never saw it before, she could only chalk up to tunnel vision.

  “Anyway,” he continued. “If Lynn can’t get the information tonight, we’re heading over to the school in the morning. I doubt anyone who remembers Emma is still around, but they have to have old files, yearbooks—something to go on. We shouldn’t be in Wisconsin more than a couple days. Here, then Green Bay to look into the Sweets’ personal lives. After that, we’re headed back to Dallas if you need us.”

  “I’ll always need you, Frank, but once this case is over, what I really need you to do is find and train your replacement. I think you’re going to be in the field from now on. Maybe you and Lynn both.”

  “I don’t think you could drag Lynn out into the field again if you promised her Steve Jobs’ brain uploaded to her cloud. She’s a permanent desk jockey.”

  “Just remember, Frank, People used to think you were a desk jockey, too.”

  A shout in the background made Jace jump, although she should’ve been used to it by now. “I’m in!” Lynn screamed.

  “Do I want to know?” she said, hoping her team hadn’t done anything illegal—like hacking into somewhere they didn’t belong.

  “Definitely not,” Frank said. “Can you hang on a minute? I think we’re about to narrow down the seven Peters.”

  While she waited, she filled Ben in on the latest details of the case. He was wiping the greasy, yellow yolk from the edge of his plate with the crust of a dark brow
n piece of bread, but he followed every word.

  “Peter Mitchell,” Lynn screamed.

  “Did you catch that?”

  Jace wrote the name down and passed it over to Ben. “Got it.” Within seconds, Lynn was calling out more information, and Jace wrote it all down. They had him, and with any luck, it would mean Emma wouldn’t be far behind.

  #

  “Flagstaff, Arizona. Don’t forget Winona. King-man, Bar-stow, San Bernardino… Get your kicks on Route 66.” Emma’s voice echoed against the brick buildings of Barstow, drawing curious stares from the tourists. She smiled and gave a little wave, but she didn’t really care. If she had to be stuck in the town, she would at least have a little fun. Not long after she convinced the filthy trucker to drop her off, she realized if she was going to have any fun, she’d have to create it herself.

  At least until she found just the right man with just the right car.

  “When you make… that Cal-i-fornia trip… Get your kicks…”

  “On Route six six?” The long slow drawl completed her lyrics, but once she saw the lips that presumed to interrupt her, her irritation whispered away.

  “Well, hello there, stranger,” she said. He didn’t say a word, but that beautiful mouth of his stretched into a wide grin. “From around here or just visiting?”

  “You know,” he said, shading his eyes with his hand, “I don’t think anyone is really from around here. It seems to be one of those places where people just end up, and then stay.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m passing through on my way east.”

  Not necessarily the direction she had hoped for, but once she finished her business with him, it didn’t matter where he thought he was headed. “East is good,” she said, letting her own lips linger over every syllable. “Looks like we have something in common. I’m just passing through until I can find a suitable ride.”

  “To where?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  “Then we do have something in common.” He pushed himself away from the wall in one fluid motion. It reminded Emma of playing with quicksilver—he was just as pretty, and she was just as deadly. “I don’t think a lovely woman like you should be walking around Barstow alone.”

  “Oh? And just how do you to propose to rectify that?”

  “By taking you to dinner. I heard about the best little restaurant a couple blocks over. Lots of ambiance.” He said the word as if it was pronounced am-bee-ants, but then he winked to let her in on the joke. Studly had a way of turning his words around to make her laugh, too.

  But Studly’s dead, Will said in her ear. She stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, and her new beau wrapped his arm around her nicely.

  “I won’t let you fall. Say, you’re looking a little…” He stopped, she assumed because he needed to find the right compliment. The next words out of his mouth made her wonder if she could find a way to kill him now. “Well, the best word for it is peaked, but I think only my granny says that any more. You okay?”

  She shook off her irritation and tried to smile. “I think I’m just hungry. Could we drive to the restaurant?”

  “Anything the little lady wants, she gets.”

  “A nice warm fire would be wonderful,” she said under her breath.

  “Maybe later we can go back to my hotel room, crank up the AC, and throw a few ceramic logs on the gas fireplace.”

  “Not exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do.”

  As he led her toward a public parking area, she could hear Will chuckling. Not clamping her hands over her ears took every ounce of willpower she had, but by the time they reached the man’s car, she felt alone with her own thoughts again. As her handsome acquaintance opened the door and settled her into his finely-leathered bucket seats, too much joy bubbled up in her to bother with her husband’s attitude.

  “Porsche?”

  He let out a little chortle. “I like a lady who doesn’t bother knowing about cars. It’s a Jaguar. Settle back. I changed my mind about the restaurant, so you’re in for a treat. There’s a place about two miles west of here, tucked back off the road a little so not many people know about it. It’s quiet, and they serve a filet that’ll make you cry.”

  Putting on her best kittenish pout, she looked deep into his velvet brown eyes. “So we’ll be all alone?”

  “Except for the staff and a few die-hard diners, it’ll be just you and me.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Actually the thought of eating made her stomach turn somersaults, but the sound of someplace secluded had her heart singing. Luck had come back to her, too; they were headed west. She could get rid of him and get back on her mission without missing a beat.

  “In fact,” she added, “I think it sounds perfect.”

  #

  “They found her car,” Jace said as she flipped her phone closed. “Disabled and left for dead on the side of I-15.”

  “She’s headed for California…”

  “And Peter Mitchell.”

  Bells rang around them as they waited for the next flight out of McCarren International Airport. A few feet away an old woman hit a jackpot just as the airline announced a final boarding call for the flight Jace wouldn’t be on to Dallas. She cast a longing glance at the departure board and sighed.

  “Homesick?”

  “A little.” She missed her quiet lake, and the chance to be alone, but mostly she missed being able to shut her brain off and just sleep. “I hope my neighbor has been watering my plants. Otherwise, when I finally get home it’ll be like a vegetation graveyard in there.”

  “I take it you’ve had that happen before.”

  “Once, and she’s never forgiven herself. There’s not much of a chance of her forgetting again considering how guilty she felt, but if something distracts her, my greenery will be toast.”

  A voice broke overhead. “Now boarding for San Francisco…”

  Jace began to rise, but Ben stilled her. “Let’s wait until the majority of the people get on. I hate sitting, waiting for takeoff.”

  “Afraid of flying? I wouldn’t picture you as the type.”

  He cast a sideways glance at her. “Flying I can handle. I’m afraid of getting elbowed by every passenger seated behind me. I’m also not thrilled with the knocks my head always seems to take when people are putting their carry-ons away. I could go on—”

  “But don’t. If you’re interested in working for the S.C.I.U. long term, you’re going to have to suck it up. We don’t fly first class. It’s not in the budget, and even if it was, every extra penny we use comes out of somebody’s pocket.”

  Ben’s shoulders slumped. “You mean I’m going to have to give up my life of luxury?”

  “Smart ass.”

  “Always.” A quick glance toward the gate had him finally letting her rise. “It’s now or never.”

  “Since never’s not an option, I think I’ll take now.”

  The flight to San Francisco went smoothly, except for the updraft climbing out of the Vegas valley, and the downdraft into the bay area. Not a great flight, but not the worst Jace ever had. Ben filled most of the flight time making jokes, chatting about movies and books, and engaging her in light-hearted, non-work conversation.

  When the flight finally descended into the Bay area, Jace almost didn’t want to disembark. For a short while, the two of them seemed like lovers rather than partners. She didn’t want it to end. From the look on Ben’s face, neither did he.

  After the last passenger walked up the aisle past them, they both admitted they couldn’t stall any longer. They rose, grabbed their carry-ons, and dragged themselves into the airport proper.

  “Ready to go save the seventh Peter?” Ben said as they headed for baggage claim.

  Before they’d left Vegas, Frank explained they’d been trying to contact Emma’s next victim since they discovered his location, but with no luck. At home, his voice mail kept picking up and, from the sounds of it, his office was closed. “If we can find hi
m.”

  “Give Frank another call. Maybe they located him while we were in the air.”

  “I just hope Emma hasn’t already been there.” If they missed their unsub here, Jace didn’t know where else to look. Her mother didn’t have any more names, and short of hunting down every man Emma ever had contact with—however fleeting—no other man presented himself as a likely candidate.

  “She hasn’t. Remember, she’s either on foot, or she’s hitchhiking…” Ben paled. “Damn it.”

  Jace didn’t need to ask him what his thoughts were. As soon as he said the word hitchhiking, the same thought occurred to her. Peter Mitchell wouldn’t be her next victim after all.

  Flipping her phone open, she put out an alert warning drivers between Las Vegas and San Francisco not to pick up any woman matching Emma’s description. Even as she gave the order, though, she already suspected they were too late.

  “I should’ve made that call before we left Nevada. I was so intent on the end of this, I didn’t think…”

  “You can’t think of everything all the time. You missed one.”

  “And it probably cost a man his life.”

  “As soon as they found Emma’s car, it was too late to warn anyone. You couldn’t know she’d ditch her wheels.”

  Jace could’ve smacked herself. “As soon as I saw them broadcasting Emma’s name, I should’ve known she’d change vehicles. I should’ve seen it coming.” What she really thought, but couldn’t say, was that she should’ve kept her focus on the job instead of on the growing attraction to Ben. If she hadn’t let herself get distracted, she would’ve be able to anticipate Emma’s next move; she could’ve stopped her killer long before the woman got to Peter Mitchell.

  And now some unknown man, or men, would find themselves sucked into Emma’s spiral of revenge and death.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jason Wendle looked good enough to nibble on for hours, but Emma contented herself with the other piece of meat in front of her. Aside from cars and women, all his taste was, as her grandpa always said, in his feet. She never understood the phrase when the old man said it, but as she watched Jason shovel yet another huge chunk of chewy steak into his maw, understanding finally dawned on her. Feet don’t have any taste at all.