by Ursula Bauer
Sam’s thoughts exactly. “He could be dodging us. Or could have skipped town.”
“Got a warrant for his place, too. Wesley gave me copies of the pictures. They’re pretty damning. If Mike’s gone running, we’ll know in a few hours. There’s a team from the state headed there right now.”
Sam’s nerves hummed with the adrenaline rush that always preceded the wrap up of a good bust. He hated to think his friends were involved in any of this, but like Wesley said about Audrey, he didn’t know her anymore. Sam realized he didn’t know any of them anymore either. Time had passed, people had changed, blood had spilled. Sam cut the call. When he reached the table again, Wes appeared if not calm, then grimly resigned.
Sam sat down and conveyed a scaled down version of events to Wes and Emma. He left out the part about Mike. Wes shuddered and dropped his head into his hands.
“The damn gun. Stupid stupid stupid.” He looked up again, and there were unshed tears in his eyes. “I was assisting the Albany police on a serial rape case. A few times I had to visit the rape crisis center for additional interviews, and had to park at a distance and walk. It’s a rough neighborhood. I was robbed at gun point. Audrey went crazy. She had me get a pistol permit and buy the thing. I hated it. Kept it in the glove box. I was relieved when it was stolen. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. We’re healers, not killers.”
“Did you tell her it was stolen?”
“Her father was a big game hunter, all her brothers had guns.” He drew a ragged breath. “I didn’t want her to think I was a wimp. I never told her it was gone.”
Emma gave Sam a curious look. “And she never asked where it went after she pushed so hard for you to buy it?”
All Wes could do was shaking his head.
If she never asked, she must have known where it went, Sam reasoned. The loose ends were starting to tie together. He still didn’t know how things fit exactly, but the missing pieces were turning up and now it was only a matter of time. After five years, it was finally happening. “You should get home. Jake wants to question you both.”
“I’ll call our attorney.”
“That’s a good idea,” Sam said.
Wes didn’t bother with parting words, and stalked out of the coffee shop into the driving rain.
Emma watched him go, and for a while continued to stare at the front of the cafe.
“What is it?” Sam finally asked.
She turned back, distracted. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I saw a shadow following him. I believe it was Keith.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Keith’s following Wesley?” Sam appeared to genuinely entertain her idea, but Emma could tell he was still skeptical. “Maybe that explains why I haven’t been haunted in a while.”
“Don’t you find it strange that when Wesley’s gun was stolen, one Audrey forced him to buy, she never questioned the whereabouts?”
“Do you believe his story?”
“I didn’t get the sense he was lying, but it’s easy to twist the truth to your own ends if you’re good at that kind of thing. A psychiatrist would have a leg up over the average person in that department.”
“Still don’t trust him?”
“It’s not a matter of trust. We’re still short the missing pieces. I don’t want to form an idea too soon and get the picture wrong. That happened once before and it’s why we’re here now. I want to keep an open mind.”
Sam grabbed his cappuccino, a thoughtful look on his face. “I’m not going to lie to you Emma. I like the fact we’re turning up solid evidence. It’s a trail you can see, and touch, and admit in a court of law. I think we’re close to the end.”
That’s what she was afraid of. The illusion of closure was a powerful lure. He didn’t even seem to care that she’d seen Keith’s ghost. Manifestations were a huge deal according to Eric. It took tremendous efforts for spirits to do that. Emma’s mind was racing to figure what Keith wanted them to know. Did he follow Wes because the doctor was next on the killer’s list, or did Keith know something about Wesley that had yet to be revealed to the living?
Sam’s desire to cling to the obvious dug at her. “Physical evidence is great, but in the wrong context, it leads to the wrong decisions.”
His body tensed at her words. The divide between them widened a bit.
It was something that would always be present, something Emma had to decide she could handle, or not. She figured as long as he still trusted her, still gave her beliefs valid consideration, she could live with his cop’s skepticism and doubt.
“Mike’s involved,” he said, then went on to fill her in on the pieces he didn’t tell to Wesley Vaughn.
As she was listening, a thought struck Emma. “Isn’t Mike selling real estate?”
“He works for the guy he’s hunting with. The office is a few doors up the block.”
“Maybe the lodge Audrey was talking about is one of the listings? I noticed on the bulletin board when we came inside there are tons of vacation rentals and Wesley’s right, every second place is named ‘lodge this’ or ‘lodge that’.”
“Good thinking. If Mike was using vacant properties as a liaison point with Audrey, he’d need to use the ones listed with his own agency. That way, as the selling broker, he’d make sure he had the run of the place and wouldn’t be surprised by other realtors trying to show the property. Or by owners arriving unannounced.”
“I’d like to hear what Mike has to say now that all this information is coming out.” Emma’s intuitive radar fired up. “We need to get to him before the police do.”
“Let’s go check those listings. He should be back to town soon and if we’re lucky, we’ll catch him before Jake Meyer.”
They finished up, trudged out into the gloomy afternoon and walked the short distance up Main Street to the real estate office. In sunshine, or even a light dusting of snow, the town center would appear idyllic, with its measured blend of rustic elegance and historic charm. But under the current conditions, there was an ominous cast to shadows, and even the brightly painted Queen Anne Victorians failed to lift the spirits.
A bell sounded as they entered the office, and a burly middle aged man with a tan face and a plaid flannel shirt greeted them. For some reason, Sam’s expression turned dark.
“It’s been a while, Sam,” the man said, crossing the small front room. “Don’t tell me you’re here to sell the lodge?”
“No such luck, Ned. I thought you were hunting with Mike. You guys just get back?”
“I wish. The mother in law’s in town, so I’m on lock down this week. I’m only here because our secretary got the flu so I needed to put in the most recent listings myself.” He held out his hand to Emma. “Ned Barker.”
Mike was playing them. That explained Sam’s anger. Emma knew the lawyer was untrustworthy, but was he a killer?
Sam took care of introductions. “Emma’s in town a short while and may be thinking about a vacation rental, or potential investment purchase. Something with that lodge feel to it. What do you guys have in the listings?”
It took only ten minutes of small talk with Ned before they were armed with print outs from the multiple listing services of the agency listings with ‘lodge’ in the title.
They found Mike’s car parked in the drive of the third place on the list—a small ski chalet just outside of Saranac Lake, called Astorbrook Lodge.
“I was hoping I’d be wrong,” Sam said as he parked his SUV.
“Just because he went off the grid doesn’t mean he was part of Jen’s murder.”
“The evidence is mounting, Emma. Even you have to admit that.”
She was about to argue, but a shiver shook through her. Like someone walking across her grave. Sam’s Blackberry beeped, indicating an incoming text. He read it while she forced herself to get her bearings. She was dizzy. Sleepy. Confused. The sensations passed through her like an invisible wave. Jen’s mantra trailed behind them. Runrun
runrunrunrun. Sing-songy, a small child’s voice, no more than a sweet whisper.
Emma struggled to regain equilibrium, Sam put away the phone. “The body in the car with Heath belongs to Robin Taggert, the heiress to the Taggert Pharmaceutical fortune. She was supposed to have disappeared while clubbing in New York City right around the time Jen died.”
“The unknown woman,” Emma breathed. The waves ceased, leaving her cold. Her vision was still a little blurry so she rubbed her eyes. “I had contact, I think.”
She went on to describe quickly what she’d felt. Sam’s frown tightened until his lips compressed into a grim line.
“What’s wrong, Sam?”
“They found two sets of prints on the .38. One matched Audrey and the other, Mike. Audrey overdosed. She’s in a coma. They found a suicide note. Said she was ‘sorry’ for what ‘they’ did to ‘her’.”
Multiple crimes, and how many before they found the real killer? “Which her?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. I think it’s time for an old fashioned police shake down.”
Sam got out of the car, but Emma held back a second. His words not only stung, they raised alarm bells. Now that the case was taking a more traditional turn, would he completely cut out the psychic side? She hoped not. It wasn’t only the case at stake, it was her heart. Emma climbed out and reluctantly joined Sam. He was arguing with Mike on the front porch of the A-frame dwelling.
Mike’s high voice carried across the clearing. “I didn’t kill anyone. Not Jen. Certainly not the Taggert girl. Come on, Sam, you know me! And Lou scared the crap out of me.”
They were toe to toe now. “Don’t screw around with me. Are you having an affair with Audrey, and were you having one with her when Jen died?”
Mike’s face twisted. He was a trapped animal. “Okay, yes, since last fall Audrey and I have been seeing each other. But that’s it. Nothing before then.”
“So you didn’t father her child? And when she’s asked, she’ll back you on that?”
The sideways glance of his beady eyes gave him away. He was lying. Emma reached out with her psychic senses, trying to intuit how Mike’s affair played into things. All she picked up was the lawyer unconscious on the couch. And then Jen, standing over him, laughing. She held a wine glass full of water and was pouring it over his head. Then, as it normally happened with her regular intuitive workings, the idea formed in her mind as if always there: Mike had made Audrey pregnant. Jen knew. Now Emma knew.
She joined the fray. “You fathered her child. Jen knew. She’s passed the information on to me.”
Mike viewed her with renewed panic, then fell to pieces. “It wasn’t my idea. Audrey was on the rebound from Lou. She couldn’t get pregnant. Wes shot blanks. Lou had a vasectomy during his first marriage. She came on to me and once it was done, she cut me loose.”
Sam looked ready to throttle his old friend. Mike’s hand began to shake with fear. Emma understood that fear. Sam’s veneer was gone, and the fierce predator was loose.
“I don’t suppose you have an alibi for the night Lou Preston was killed?”
“I was waiting for Audrey.” Sweat rolled down the lawyer’s florid face.
“Did she show?”
“She came the next two nights.”
“What started things up again?”
“Audrey and Lou were on again, off again since high school. She liked playing with men outside her social set. But life was hard on her lately. She needed a shoulder to lean on again. Lou wasn’t as sympathetic as he used to be. Guess he was tired of her. I helped her out. This has nothing to do with Jen, or that missing heiress.”
Emma processed the information along with Sam. The words rang true and opened room for reasonable doubt. She suspected they arrived at two different conclusions, however, and was proved right by what Sam said next.
“If you’re not guilty, then you need to get over to Jake and start with the real truth of what happened that night.”
“I get the feeling I’m being set up. I’m better off running.”
“I’ll go with you to see Jake. As long as you tell the truth, you’ll be fine.”
Emma knew, from years on the grift, nothing could be more wrong, because nothing was better at obscuring facts that truth turned inside out.
~ * * * ~
An hour later, in the front hall of the police station, she was proved right.
Sam came out of the Sherriff’s office, a dark look clouding his face. “The state evidence techs found the .38 at Mike’s place. Prints match his and Audrey’s.”
She stayed silent, waiting to see where he was headed. Hoping he would keep an open mind and keep pursuing both the mundane and psychic ends of the investigation. Dreading he’d declare the findings good to go, and bring things to yet another premature end.
“That gun killed Lou, and five years earlier, it killed Heath and a woman who was supposed to be in New York City, but was holed up in the Adirondacks.” Sam leaned up against the wall beside her. “Heath was the one who reported the fire, Lou was the first officer on the scene, and the guy guarding the only viable suspect at the time: the one who overdosed on meth while in lock up. That makes them both most likely involved in a cover-up, and loose ends for Jen’s killer. The facts are coming together.”
The facts were leading. And Sam was following. But the end wasn’t the right one, this wasn’t over, not until all the facts came in together in the right way. “What about the missing necklace? What about the missing brandy bottle?”
“My guess is Heath probably killed Jen on Audrey’s orders. Maybe Jen knew about Audrey’s affairs and was going to tell Wesley. I’m sure it was a crime of opportunity and not premeditated.” Sam stared straight ahead. She thought it telling that he wouldn’t face her. “Lou or Audrey or even Mike could have shot Heath. Robin Taggert ties to him, I’ll bet. He was known for fooling around with young girls, she was known for liking low rent men and fast times. Her father had a place a few miles up the road, so them meeting isn’t out of the question. She might have seen or heard something when Jen was killed and had to be silenced.”
Such a nice, neat story. Like her father would put together when running a con. Except it didn’t sit right with Emma. The necklace didn’t have a part, and that had always been the key. “So why kill Lou after all these years?”
“He wasn’t tight with Audrey anymore, so maybe she was worried he’d talk.”
So many loose ends. Didn’t he see? He had them tying in all wrong. “If I told you I had another vision and it explained what happened to Jen's water glass, what would you do?”
“I’d ask how it fits with what we know to be fact. If it fits at all. We were never sure the necklace or missing glass, or even the brandy bottle was pivotal. Seems that’s holding true.”
Emma couldn’t stand it any longer. She told him of the vision in a mad rush. The dismissive look in his eyes as she spoke said it all. A vision was interesting, something to get the mind thinking a different way about the case. But it wasn’t hard, cold fact. It wasn’t evidence. She knew the cause was lost but she asked anyway? “Now what do you think? Is your picture still the same?”
“We know that after he started the second brandy bottle, Mike knocked over the Pellegrino bottle. The remaining water in the glass Jen poured on him as he slept.” Sam spoke slow and clear. A patient, logical man making sense of things the only way he knew how—with reason. “All your vision tells us is that Jen didn’t drink much of her water, while the rest got hammered. She was awake after Wes and Audrey went to bed, and Mike passed out.”
His words were rational and made sense. The vision supported his story. Except, to her it didn’t. Her gut soured, and so did her mood.
“So that’s it? We’re done now? Case closed?” Defeat mixed with anger. Anger that after all they’d been through, he’d dismiss her so thoroughly. She’d really been played. And she had let it happen. “We just drop the necklace and the ghost, and all the other hang
ing details like missing glasses and bottles?”
Sam turned to her at last. He touched her shoulder, and she jerked free as if burned. “Emma, wait.”
“Save it, Sam. I get it. This is evidence. It’s way more important than hoodoo voodoo.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She stepped back and took a breath, tried to get her racing thoughts under control. She didn’t want to give him the benefit of seeing how hurt she was. She didn’t want to admit to herself either how much his turn had impacted her. It was her fault for trusting him too much, her fault for believing that maybe they had a shot. Her fault for falling for his lines, for falling for his touch, his kiss…
“Tell me one thing, and be truthful. I’ll know if you lie. If Jake agrees with you, will you pursue the psychic investigation portion of the murder any further? Will you keep looking for the necklace?”
“If Jake agrees, and thinks he can make this stick, we don’t need to go any further. We can close the case and move on.” He ran a hand through his hair, the jerky motion giving away his growing frustration. “I don’t understand why you’re so worked up. We’re done. It’s over. We can finally start fresh.”
His words were a bullet straight to her heart. She was about to unload when Jake opened his office door and leaned out into the hall.
“I need to talk to you Sam,” Jake said. “There are a few details I need to get straight.”
“Just a sec,” Sam said.
“Go.” Emma took another step back. Then one more. Distance gave her the ability to grab the threads of composure that were so frayed and raw. He believed in her as long as it was convenient, but when something better came along, he jumped at it. And why had she thought it would be any different? More, why had she let it matter? Why had she let him matter? He was a cop, of course he’d go for the facts and the fastest way to close the door on his last major problem case. “We’re done here.”
She turned and stormed out into the parking lot, not sure where she was going, but certain of where she wanted to be. As far away from Sam Tyler as possible. One more minute longer than necessary in his presence and she’d go mad. She felt physically ill. She broke the rules and let him in too close, now she'd pay. She knew she should head back to the lodge and try to finish the job, but the spirits weren’t speaking, not for three days running . And Sam was speaking loud and clear. The case was over. As far as she was concerned, she and Sam were over as well.