Date. Pleeease. It’s not a date.
That little ping zinged up her spine again. Is it?
16
Emily valeted her Nissan Leaf at the country club entrance and found Dr. Payton waiting for her in a chair near the door of the lobby. As soon as he saw her, he hurried to greet her. She was quick to note how sharply dressed he was in his tweed jacket, slim dark denim slipped over brown leather boots.
“You look amazing.” He bent to her cheek with a European double kiss. It threw her off for a second, but then she went along with it.
Emily was grateful she had dressed up for the evening. She was in Jo’s charcoal pencil skirt and red silk blouse. Her freshly washed hair was down and styled, and she had found a pair of her mother’s old earrings in a jewelry box on the top shelf of her father’s closet. She felt good. The best she had in over a month.
He led her to the table—a three-top? With Delia already seated?
“Hello, doll. I hope you don’t mind. After patronizing my establishment all afternoon and gushing over my pastries, how could I say no to this? Besides, I haven’t had a man ask me to dinner in longer than I care to admit.”
See, Nick? This was definitely not a date. But she couldn’t help feeling a little let down.
Emily reached down to give Delia a hug. “I always love seeing you.”
They all took a seat as the waiter arrived with a water pitcher and menus, which he set in front of each of them.
“Red or white?” asked Dr. Payton, snatching the menu.
“Red,” Emily and Delia confirmed in tandem.
Dr. Payton took the liberty of ordering one of the more expensive bottles, and the waiter scuttled toward the bar.
“Don’t leave me in suspense any longer,” said Emily. “What’s this big thing you want to ask me?”
“I was telling Delia earlier today that we’re expanding our anthropology department to add more courses in forensic investigation, and I’d like you to consider applying for the job.”
“Is that an academic position?”
“Yes, about fifty percent professorial, and the other fifty percent is built around lab work that comes into our office from the state police posts.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not qualified.” Emily nearly laughed out loud. “That’s why we had to call you up here.”
The waiter returned with the red wine and opened the bottle. He poured a sample into Delia’s glass, and she took an approving sip. Then he filled each glass a third of the way to the top and hurried off.
“I think you should hear Dr. Payton out. It’s worth considering his offer, doll,” said Delia, raising her glass in a toast. “To new opportunities.”
They clinked goblets as if they were already celebrating her acceptance. Emily felt her gut tighten.
“I’m a surgeon. I’ve never even taught before. And I’m not a bone expert,” said Emily.
“You’re good with people. A natural teacher. And we’d give you the courses and training you need to catch up on the anthropology side.” He pressed her with a serious look. “You know anatomy, Emily. You understand how people are put together. How they live and move. And what happens to them when they die.”
“I’ve never really considered an academic career,” she stated plainly.
“It’s a nice life,” said Delia. “I sometimes wish I’d transitioned into academia. Would have left a lot less battle scars.” She smiled and took a sip of her wine.
Emily didn’t believe for an instant that Delia would have been satisfied at a university. She was a field agent through and through. Adventure and wanderlust were her lifeblood.
“I don’t know. I’ve put a good amount into my surgical training,” she said.
“And that will all be counted to your benefit when you apply.”
“This is a huge shift in direction.”
“Think of it more like exploring a new branch on the same tree.”
“I’ll give you a raving recommendation,” said Delia.
Emily wondered why Delia was so in favor of this opportunity. “I always thought you were rooting for me to return to Freeport.”
“I’m rooting for you, period. You have the chops for surgery. I know you do. But Emily, forensics is in your DNA. You’ve known that since you were thirteen and doing autopsies with your dad.”
“That’s brilliant, Emily,” said Dr. Payton. “I can’t wait to hear more about the young Emily Hartford, working the morgue instead of attending football games.”
“I went to football games,” she said flatly, and buried her eyes in the menu. She resented the fact that on the deepest level, Delia had hit a sore spot. Defenses rose in her mind. At sixteen years old, Chicago had been Emily’s only outlet. Emily would not apologize for her Chicago choices. She’d been hurting and no one would listen to her. Her father had checked out, refusing to investigate Mom’s death. Delia was traipsing across the Middle East or Europe or Asia or wherever on FBI assignment. Emily hadn’t had anyone back then. How could Delia know how desperate and lonely Emily had felt?
She couldn’t deny that running to Chicago had changed the course of her life. All she had wanted to do was prove to her father that she was fine without him. She would get his attention by excelling in the area of medicine he had given up after a surgical procedure went afoul. Now the sting of that childish decision would be with her the rest of her life. Even though her father had eventually applauded her venture off the forensic trail, he had been proud of how it had broadened her horizons and opportunities. And branching out had helped Emily get a new perspective and attack life in a productive manner. But she’d never known, until recently, how much Dad had missed her and been deeply hurt by her absence. And she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed home and forensic investigating with her father and connecting over cases.
“To the future,” said Dr. Payton, raising a wineglass in another toast.
“The beautiful, beautiful future,” said Delia.
“And the beautiful women who make it happen,” said Dr. Payton. He passed his glance from Delia to Emily and held it there.
Emily kept her lips in a taut grin and said nothing as she clinked her glass to theirs. She took a sip and mentally shrugged off her worry thoughts. The present offered enough challenges. Better not to borrow more from tomorrow.
But she had little reprieve, as Delia started right back in again. “Emily, I don’t mean to harp, but let me make a plug for university life. It’s a lot less stressful than being a surgeon. And it fosters a good schedule for having a husband and kids.”
Emily choked on her second sip of wine and sent Delia a mortified glare. “That is not on the table right now.”
“But it will be. Sooner than you think,” said Delia.
“Oh, are you getting married?” said Dr. Payton with a slight sinking tone.
Emily glanced to where her engagement ring used to be. “No, I’m not.”
“She just got disengaged,” Delia piped in. “Is that a word? I think I made that up. At any rate, she’s single.”
Dr. Payton feigned surprise.
Emily shot Delia a sharp look. “There’s a lot of stuff up in the air right now,” she said, trying to recover gracefully. “Drink your wine, Delia.”
Dr. Payton divided the rest of the bottle of wine into their three glasses and turned his attention to Emily. “What do you think, Emily? Is it at least something you’d consider?”
She wasn’t sure how much of herself to give away, but she’d better say something before Delia overstepped.
“I’ve got a lot of distractions these days.”
“Yes. She’ll consider it,” said Delia.
Oh Delia, can you please keep your trap shut?
Emily buried her head in the menu again, biting her lip lest she regret the words rolling to the tip of her tongue. Steak, salmon, or ribs? Wait. That mushroom risotto looks tempting. Where is that waiter?
“Freeport is a great little city. Reminds me of my o
wn hometown,” Dr. Payton said, changing the subject.
“Does it? Where was that?” said Delia.
“Wilshire, Vermont. You won’t find it on a map. It’s just a dot off the interstate in the middle of the Northeast Kingdom. Population three hundred.”
“Wow, that’s more like a pinprick,” said Delia. “I once knew an FBI agent who lived up in northern Vermont. Commuted to Washington, DC, every week. Said it was the only way he could stay sane on the job.”
“There’s nothing like small towns to come back to nature and one’s true self,” said Dr. Payton, turning to Emily.
“That’s why I came back. It’s ideal here,” said Delia. “Think about it, doll. The clock is ticking.”
Emily shot her a look. Stop. Please!
“Have you ever thought about keeping your house here as a vacation home?” asked Dr. Payton. “Many of our professors have vacation homes up north.”
“That might make the decision more palatable,” said Delia, flagging down the waiter for another bottle of wine. “You don’t have to give everything up. Work there. Weekend here.”
“What sites did you get to see today?” said Emily, changing the topic with a plastic smile.
“I never made it out,” said Dr. Payton with a laugh toward Delia. “There was too much going on inside Brown’s Bakery.”
Another busy day of town gossip. She could imagine Dr. Payton charming the customers and making new friends. She wondered if people knew he was the forensic examiner working on the Pinetree Slopes case and if people’s curiosity had gotten the better of them. And if he had given in to their inquiries.
“Have you two decided what to eat?” Emily asked, setting her menu aside.
“Roast chicken. I’m a simple eater,” said Delia.
“Rib eye. I’m simple, too.” Dr. Payton turned to Emily. “And you?”
“The braised salmon sounds good,” said Emily, feeling braised herself.
“Emily, I do hope you’ll at least consider my offer. I’d be happy to show you around the department and campus. How does next week look?” Dr. Payton softened his gaze.
Thankfully, Emily didn’t have to answer because the waiter showed up with a bread basket.
17
Emily was exhausted from the emotional ping-pong of the evening, yet she wasn’t ready to go to her empty home, so she zigzagged through Freeport’s neighborhoods as her thoughts turned to the Parkman case. And to Sandi’s last ride. Had she known she was in trouble? Had she been bound and gagged in her final hours? Did she know her attacker? Was she even conscious? What thoughts of terror would have been racing through her mind? Had she tried to escape?
Emily shook herself free of the horror thoughts. She was passing the entrance to Pinetree Slopes and had a strong urge to pull in. Because of the storm, she hadn’t really taken a good look at the entire area when they were excavating. And even though it was dark now, she wanted to get a sense of the place at night. It was most likely that the killer had waited to dump the body until after dark.
Her thoughts reeled back to her questions. What sort of obstacles would he have encountered? There had been no roads ten years ago leading to the development. It was just a dense woods back then. How far off the main road would the killer have had to carry the body? And why here? Did it carry some meaning to the killer? To Sandi?
Emily’s Leaf bumped along the gravel drive. The estate was so new that they hadn’t paved the roads yet. A few parcels of land had been cleared in preparation for building, but only the plot where they had found Sandi was under construction. The rest was virgin land marked in flags.
Sandi’s parcel, she would call it, since she didn’t know who had bought it. And would the owners still want it now that a body had been found on the property?
As she came around a bend, she noticed a set of headlights pointed away from her into the woods about a quarter mile up. Emily instinctively shut off her lights and slowed to a stop. Thank goodness her electric vehicle was silent.
From her vantage point, she could see that it was a black Lexus parked on the edge of Sandi’s parcel. Was it the developer? The owner? A pair of lovers seeking privacy?
She thought she saw two people in the car, but she couldn’t tell if they were male or female. She couldn’t tell their age or ethnicity. They were just dark shadows. Heads bobbing in quiet conversation. She was having a hard time making out the license plate. Emily pulled out her camera and zoomed in to capture an image, but when she looked at it on her phone, all she could make out was a dealer plate. The car was brand-new. Maybe that was of benefit here. How hard could it be to track down a brand-new Lexus? It had probably just been registered with the secretary of state.
She texted the picture to Nick. And waited. Hoping they hadn’t see her. Hoping she wasn’t placing herself in any danger.
Emily backed up out of view and headed down the gravel path out of Pinetree Slopes. She didn’t turn her headlights on until she turned out onto the main road heading home. She called Nick, and he picked up on the second ring.
“Did you get my text?” she said right away.
“Yeah, it just came through. What is it?”
“Dealer plate from a vehicle loitering around the site where Sandi’s remains were found.”
“That’s really odd.”
“I thought so.”
“What were you doing there?” he asked. “Date get cut short?”
“I think I lost my bracelet during the dig.”
“So you went to look for it in the dark?”
“While it was on my mind,” she said defensively, suspecting he wasn’t buying her fib.
“Are you still at the site?”
“No. I’m heading home. I just thought you should check it out.”
“I will. I’ll head over right now,” said Nick.
“What time are you going to Mrs. Parkman’s tomorrow?”
Emily could hear him gathering up his car keys, heading into his garage, and getting into his truck.
“Not sure exactly. I’ll text you in the morning.”
“Sounds good.”
“So, how was the big date?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Two bottles of red wine? Sounds like a date to me.”
“You were spying on me?”
“My friend Becky Matthews waits tables there.”
“Who’s that?”
“Officer Matthew’s little sister. Well, not so little. Twenty-one. Had to bust her for a DUI on her twenty-first.”
“Ouch,” said Emily. “Small towns.”
“Sometimes I hate playing the bad cop.”
“Good night, Nick,” said Emily as she hung up and pulled into her driveway. She wondered what Mrs. Parkman would be doing tonight—the last sleep she would ever take not knowing where her daughter was. Emily thought of her own mother and father, resting together under the maple tree at Freeport Memorial Cemetery. They had chosen Freeport out of all the places they could have lived. A nice, safe place to settle down and raise a family. The perfect childhood. Just miles away, Sandi had been suffering a terrifying existence. Life was not fair.
To what degree was Shirley Parkman guilty of the sins of omission? It seemed almost certain she had turned a blind eye to what her husband was doing to her daughter. The need for love and a roof over her head perhaps had trumped her protective motherly instincts. How sad that these sins of omission had destroyed her and her daughters. Perhaps Shirley Parkman was hiding still more from them.
18
“Did you find out anything on the Lexus?” Emily said the next morning after Nick picked her up so they could drive to Shirley Parkman’s house together.
“Not much. By the time I got over there, it was gone. I tried to look up registration, but there have been no new Lexus’ of that make and model registered to anyone in Freeport County in the last year.”
“Out-of-towners.”
“Probably,” said Nick. “So I widened the search to all
of Michigan. There were about a hundred Lexus’ registered near the Detroit area in the past month. Only three of the model you photographed.”
“Any names you recognize?”
“Contrary to the fact that I’ve never lived anywhere but Michigan, I actually don’t know every resident in the state,” he chided with a light tone. Emily smirked. “But to answer your question, no. I didn’t recognize anyone on the list, and none of them sent up any red flags for past criminal arrests.”
“Can you question them for an alibi?”
“Under what probable cause? ‘I saw your car in the woods’?” He snickered. But Emily didn’t think it was funny this time.
“You can come up with something. Trespassing on private property?”
“Relax, will you? It’s probably a developer or maybe a visiting architect. A lot of people from Detroit are starting to build summer homes up here.”
“Since when has Freeport experienced a building boom?”
“The county clerk said she’s getting flooded with building permits.”
Emily knew she should have gotten closer and tried to get photographs of the people inside. “Who visits land in the dead of darkness?”
“Who goes looking for a bracelet in the dead of darkness?” Nick challenged back. “Did you find it?”
“I did. On my dresser at home,” she fibbed.
She didn’t want to get in it about Dr. Payton’s offer, the awkward dinner conversation, and how she needed to unwind before facing a lonely, empty house.
“I told you after the Dobson case, a heroine makes no promises to quit sleuthing. It’s in my blood.”
“I thought you were looking for a bracelet,” Nick volleyed back, glancing over with a smirk. He saw right through her.
“Well, at least you called me this time,” he continued, referring to the way she had left him out of certain investigative trails on the Dobson case.
He slowed as they came up to the Parkman place. They needed to shore up their strategy.
Secret Remains Page 10