He shook his head. “Emily, everyone knows that you’re the troublemaker. I have nothing to worry about as long as you are far away.” He laughed and headed back inside. “See you in a little bit!”
Emily rolled her eyes and slammed her car door shut. Wow, reaching out didn’t feel so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe, she and Sam could be friends. Not in name only, but in action as well.
She donned her white lab coat as she entered the offices. Breathing deeply of the cool, fresh air, she began to switch on all her equipment. The medical examiner should have something for her within the next few hours. Until then, she could work on what she needed to work on.
She plugged Clinton Mayer’s photo into the criminal and law enforcement database – because Jewel had asked her to – and clicked the “start search” button. That done, she began work on the scarf, photo, and other items from her latest “gift”.
She hoped and prayed that he had slipped up somewhere. Maybe he had left a fingerprint, a hair, a tiny splotch of DNA. Maybe he could be caught before anything else happened.
Two hours later, she had no hits. Clinton Mayer had never been arrested or enlisted in the military and the stalker had left her a picture-perfect, DNA-less package.
She wanted to throw the computer screen across the room. Unfortunately, she couldn’t let herself. It in itself was almost five thousand dollars worth of equipment. Why the FBI had spent that much on a computer screen…well, she had no idea.
She heard the door slide open, so she minimized what she was working on and turned to see who it was.
The M.E.'s assistant carried a few vials, which he set on her table. He didn’t say a word, just left the evidence and skedaddled.
She rolled her eyes and picked one of them up. A hair. That could be useful, depending on whose it was and how long it had been there. She studied it under a magnifying glass. The root was gone, so there wasn’t much she could do with it, but she would do her level best. A hair could give her DNA – which would only be helpful if they had a positive match from criminal or military records or a person to match it to. It could also tell her what kinds of diseases, if any, the person had at the moment. Strangely, she was looking forward to examining that hair.
There was also a small vial with skin from under the girl’s nails. That would definitely provide a positive DNA match, also assuming they could find the perpetrator.
Five hours and a donut later, she was no closer to finding who it was than when she had started. Sure, she had the DNA, but this guy was definitely off the grid. He hadn’t been a suspect they had brought in yet, either.
She laid her head down on her desk and watched the faces from the database scan rapidly through the screen.
She glanced at her watch. She had one of two choices this evening. Go home or stay at the office and work all night. She wished she could go home, but she didn’t know what would be waiting for her. Maybe she could find a middleman, per se. Someone’s house that she could crash at for the evening. She shook off the thought. She didn’t want to cause anyone any trouble.
The door slid open again, and Emily perked up.
One of the new agents, she didn’t know him by name yet, walked through the door and motioned for whoever was following him.
Jewel skipped in, carrying two cups of specialty coffee and a bag of cookies.
“Thanks, Robert,” she said as the agent headed out.
Emily smiled. “Jewel, did you bring me coffee?”
Jewel set one cup on the desk. “Vente mocha with two shots of espresso, whipped cream, and sprinkles?”
Emily snatched it up and took a long sip.
“You are a life-saver!” She slid her feet onto the desk.
Jewel pulled over a chair and curled her legs under her.
“Anything on Clinton Mayer?” she asked, popping a piece of peanut-butter cookie into her mouth.
Emily rolled her eyes. “I wish. He isn’t a criminal and he doesn’t have a background in law enforcement or military. Sorry.”
Jewel nodded. “That’s ok. Want a cookie?” She extended the bag.
Emily smiled and grabbed one.
“Any other ideas on him?” she asked Jewel.
Jewel set the cookie bag back on the desk. “Well,” she started, “he kept mentioning something about a person named Les. I don’t know who that is, but he talked about her – or him – like they were really good friends.”
“Did he say where this person lived?” Emily asked, considering pulling up her search database.
“No. Said he used to live in Illinois, didn’t say where he was now. And that’s assuming it is a he.”
Emily shrugged. “It’s ok, I’ll work on it. I’m going to be here all night anyway.” She swallowed the end of her cookie.
“Why?” Jewel asked, suddenly very alert.
Emily sighed. Great. Now she was going to have to come up with some excuse about needing the extra hours or something. If she didn’t she was going to have to tell Jewel the truth. She opted for the truth.
“I’ve got a stalker and I don’t want to go home.”
Jewel nearly spit out her cookie.
“What?!”
Emily sighed. “I have a stalker.”
“And you didn’t say anything why?” she asked. She was in near hysterics.
“I didn’t want you to worry.” She knew it wasn’t the whole truth, but it accounted for most of it.
Jewel held up a hand and took a long drink of her iced coffee.
“That’s sweet of you, Emily, really, but I would love to help. Come spend the night at my house.”
Emily sighed. “That’s the other reason I didn’t tell you. What if he’s watching me and I put you and your family in danger?”
Jewel laughed out loud. “Emily, if you put the guys in danger, they would eat it up. Besides, he’s not following you from FBI headquarters. I mean, it’s the FBI, for Pete’s sake. He’d be stupid to come around here. We’ll take my car and you can hunker down in the back. I’ll bring you back tomorrow morning and if he is watching he’ll think you never left.”
Emily had to admit, it was a good plan. Maybe this was why Jewel was blessed with the creative arts. She had an imagination to rival Walt Disney’s. Still, Emily shook her head.
“I really can’t, Jewel. I can’t put you in danger.”
Jewel leaned forward and grabbed Emily’s hands. “Pretty, pretty, pretty please? I only remember having one sleepover – ever – and I was, like, eight. I would consider it a favor. Please?”
Emily wanted to laugh. Jewel’s face was comical. She was so sweet offering her house like that, but she really did want to keep her safe. Still, Jewel sat there staring her down.
“What will Cassandra and Brandon say?” She finally asked.
Jewel pulled out her cell phone and sat back.
Emily watched her have an animated conversation with her adopted mother about the pros and cons of having someone come stay. There was the fact she was being stalked, which only helped to sell the bit. She had to admit, Jewel would make one heck of a salesperson.
Jewel hung up and smiled. “They say yes. Come home with me, please?”
Emily finally nodded her consent. “Fine. I’ll stay the night at your house. Maybe it’ll discourage him. Until then, let’s think of all the names that Les can be short for, shall we?”
Jewel snatched another cookie and nodded. “I already did that. Wanna see?”
Emily shrugged. “Sure. Maybe we’ll find something.”
Jewel dug into her pocket and handed Emily a piece of crumpled paper.
Emily unfolded it and began to read.
Les (just a thought, but maybe it’s his or her full name)
Leslie (can also be spelled the following ways: Lesley, Leslea, Leslee, Lesli, Lesslie, and Lezli.)
Leshawn (highly unlikely, as are the following. I would stick with Les or Leslie)
Wallace
Malice
Angeles
&n
bsp; Lester
Emily read through the list again. Her gaze settled on the last name that Jewel had written down. Lester. It was a long shot, but maybe…
“Emily, what are you thinking?” Jewel asked, looking concerned.
Emily turned to the computer. “I’m thinking my step-dad’s name was Lester. Just a hunch, but maybe they’re connected.”
Jewel pulled closer to the computer with Emily.
“Now I’m wishing I had brought popcorn instead of cookies,” she complained.
“If I’m right, we can get some popcorn tonight.”
“As long as we make my brothers promise to not eat it all.”
Emily giggled and began a search on Lester Herman and Clinton Mayer. It was possible that they had a mutual friend. Lester had always seemed to have friends in high places.
The girls spent the next twenty minutes staring at the screen, waiting for the results.
Finally, it dinged.
Emily clicked a button and pulled up some phone records.
“They had one mutual friend,” she said softly. “It’s thin, but it’s enough to go on.”
Jewel hugged the cookie bag to herself, pulling pieces out and munching on them in suspense.
“Who is it?” she asked, stuffing another bite into her mouth.
Emily typed in a few things and found the name that the phone number belonged to.
“Gerard Fairfax.”
“Sounds like a nice enough guy.” Jewel shrugged and nodded at the screen.
Emily shook her head. “Not really. He’s been arrested for fraud twice. And he’s been arrested for armed robbery four times. Then there’s the charge of conspiring with someone to break out of jail…fifteen times. He hasn’t been convicted of any of them because he’s had solid alibis.”
Jewel’s eyes widened. “Breaking someone out of jail. Didn’t Lester…” she let the sentence hang.
Emily took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. Had Clinton Mayer, multi-millionaire novelist, helped Lester escape from prison? Was he housing him somewhere? Worst of all, did he even know what Lester had done to poor little Lani? If he did, Emily was sure he certainly wouldn’t have helped Lester escape from jail.
She stole the bag of cookies from Jewel’s grasp and began stuffing them down her throat as she thought.
“Ok. That’s fine. Cause I didn’t want to finish them anyway,” Jewel threw her hands up in defeat.
“Jewel,” Emily finally said, “this means we may have cracked the case. If we search hard enough, maybe we can find Lester.”
“Yeah. I knew that. That’s why I put it on the list.” Jewel smiled like she had planned the whole ordeal.
Emily smiled at her. “You didn’t know. That’s why we have my computer, remember?”
Jewel shrugged. “Fine. I won’t take all the credit. But maybe, subconsciously, I did know. And that is why it went down on paper.”
Emily rolled her eyes. It was useless trying to argue with Jewel, but she knew that Jewel was completely wrong. That was enough. She would prove Jewel wrong another day. For now, all that mattered was the fact that they had a lead on Lester Herman. Emily knew the FBI had been called in on that case. The only problem was, Emily didn’t know what agents had been placed on the case. Therefore, there was no way to contact them.
Sam returned to his desk and rubbed his burning nose. Maybe he needed some Mentholatum rub. After all, the strong eucalyptus scent would counteract the horrible smell he couldn’t seem to lose. That had to be the worst crime scene he had ever smelled. He hoped he didn’t have to smell many more any time soon.
He was still rubbing his nose as he logged onto his computer. An email immediately pulled up. It was from Emily. That was weird. Two acts of friendship in one day. Was she feeling alright? He hoped so.
When she had called him a friend this morning, it had nearly knocked him off his feet. He didn’t remember her ever actually calling him a friend. It had always just been assumed. He assumed she would call him if she needed help, just like he assumed that she actually valued his friendship. Maybe he had been wrong on both accounts. But then, this morning, she had reached out. Had called him a friend. It was a step forward and he thanked God for it.
He opened the email and slowly read the entirety.
Sam –
I know this is totally weird and you are probably going to freak out, but don’t. Jewel and I have been down here theorizing about Clinton Mayer and we came up with something. She said he mentioned a friend named Les. As in Lester. So we cross-referenced known acquaintances and came up with a name. This guy, Gerard Fairfax, has been indicted for breaking people out of jail fifteen times. It’s a long shot, but we thought that Lester might be hiding out with him. At least associated. I don’t know who’s actually on the case, so I’m trusting you to get this to them. Thanks bunches!
Emily
He reread it five times before the information actually sank in. He forwarded the email to the team working the case and leaned back in his chair. Clinton Mayer and Lester Herman connected? Talk about weird.
He thought to the story Emily had told him of her sister’s death. How tragic would it be to watch a family member die? How would you keep your faith and work through it? Sure, his dad had died, but he hadn’t been forced to see him murdered as Emily had been. What was it like to live with those ghosts?
He thought of his family. His mother hadn’t spoken to him in a year. Maybe it was time to break that silence. Even though his father had died of natural causes, it felt like losing someone to a murderer. At least, as close as he could tell.
His baby brother sat in a jail cell in town, simply because he had neglected to take him under his wing. Maybe he should have stepped up and become the father figure. Maybe then Lucas wouldn’t be in jail because of his poor taste in friends. It was too late now. Time couldn’t be erased. But perhaps he could make things right with his mother.
He had tried to make things right with Lucas, but he refused to see him. Said something about them being on opposite sides of the law now.
Sam saw it differently. Sam saw redemption. Sam saw forgiveness, if his family would just reach out to Jesus and take it. He had tried and failed to extend it to Lucas, but maybe it wasn’t too late for his mother. Maybe she could see the light again.
He stuffed his gun in his drawer and locked it, then grabbed his bag.
“Hey, Sam, buddy!” Nate called. “Where are you going?”
Sam spun mid-step and shrugged. “I’m taking off early. I have a ton of sick days plus I’ve worked overtime for almost a week straight. Finish up and head home.” He marched off before Nate could utter another word.
Jesus, he prayed silently, I need help talking to her. Help me to be patient. Help her ears to be open.
His car almost drove itself to his mother’s one-story house in the suburbs. The garden was still kept up, the front porch was painted a crisp crème, and the grass was mowed.
Sam turned off his car and just sat for a few moments. What if his mother didn’t let him in? What if she blamed him for his father’s death? What if she was a shell of the woman she had been when he left?
Tossing all his fears aside, he began up the walk to his mother’s door. He didn’t know what he would do if she did answer the door. Maybe she wasn’t home. He scolded himself. Now he was losing his nerve. He couldn’t afford to lose his nerve.
He knocked a few times, but no one answered. Curious, he tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. His FBI mindset kicked in, and he wondered if she was all right. Oh, how he wished he had his gun.
He opened the door and went in.
“Mom?” he called, probably a little bit too quietly.
He heard footsteps about two seconds before he found himself on the floor. Someone was on top of him. He shoved his elbow back into the person’s gut, but they didn’t move very much.
He rolled onto his stomach, and found himself trapped.
“Get off!” he yelled.
Sam jerked his head back and connected with the other man.
He grunted, but held firm.
“What in the world is going on in here?” asked a female voice from the sliding glass patio door.
Sam turned his head enough to see his mother. She looked good. So much better than she had last time they had spoken.
Her hair was cut short and died a light brown. She wore a gardening apron over her jeans and blue t-shirt. The lines in her face seemed to have diminished, as had her hard exterior.
“This guy was trying to sneak into your house, Loretta,” said the man on top of Sam.
Loretta stared at Sam for a long moment. Her eyes softened, and her hands came off her hips.
“Get off of him, Matt,” she instructed.
“But, Loretta…”
“I said get off of him!” she snapped.
Sam felt Matt rise off of his back. Thankful, he stood up and dusted off his clothes. He finally saw who had tackled him.
Matt was a tall, lean man with muscles to rival a linebacker. His hair was cut short, in military style, and his dark eyes were serious.
“Who is this bozo, Loretta?” Matt asked, keeping his distance.
Sam really wished that Matt hadn’t called him a bozo, but as long as he wasn’t going to kill him, it was ok.
Loretta smiled and practically ran across the room. She flung her arms around Sam’s neck, and Sam didn’t protest. It felt good. He hugged her back, with all of his strength.
“Uh, hello?” Matt interjected. “I’m kind of in the dark here. Someone want to explain?”
Loretta backed slightly away from Sam and smiled.
“Matt,” she said, “I would like you to meet my son, Samuel.”
Sam turned slightly and extended a hand. “Call me Sam. You have a great tackle, by the way.”
Matt nearly smirked. “You have a great head-butt. That one’s going to bruise.” He rubbed a hand on his forehead.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Sam said sincerely. He looked at his mother questioningly.
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