The bright lights of the lobby made him blink as he strode past the information desk to the bank of elevators just out of view. The off-beige walls did little to soften the glare from the fluorescent lights. The squeak of rubber-soled shoes against the tile blended with the antiseptic smell that nothing could soften. A tech of some sort wheeled an empty gurney by, barely missing Reid’s shoe. He stepped back and bumped against a wheelchair, one in a row lining the wall.
He pushed out another breath and headed into the elevator bank, pushed the button, and waited for the doors to open.
He waited for an orderly to push a gurney in before entering the car. The ride up seemed too long and too short at the same time. He needed to steel himself for meeting Robert, but the cowardly part wanted nothing at all to do with his brother-in-law.
He wasn’t a weakling. He stood up to threats when they came. So why did Robert generate this flight effect rather than a fight one?
The doors opened and Reid stepped off. The antiseptic smell slapped him in the face, and he had to force his steps down the hall. The quiet beep of machines and the hum and multicolored light of TVs swooshed from some of the rooms he passed, curtains around the beds pulled against prying eyes. Other rooms were empty. A woman walked toward him in hot-pink scrubs, slowing as they passed. “Can I help you?”
“I’m visiting my niece. She’s in room 418.”
The woman frowned and studied him closer. He wouldn’t be surprised if she asked to see his ID. “Melanie mentioned you. I would hurry, as her father isn’t there right now.”
“Thank you.”
An alarm sounded behind him, and she nodded before sweeping past him in a rush.
When he reached Kinley’s room, he heard muffled voices. With a quick rap on the doorframe, he walked in.
He stilled when a doctor and nurse looked up from their huddle at the computer docked in her room. The doctor looked like he should still be in undergrad, and the nurse had the wizened look of a woman who had seen much and been bothered by little. Their conversation halted, and the doctor stared at Reid.
“Who are you?” His intonation was perfect for the smoking caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland.
“Reid Billings. I’m Kinley’s uncle, here to see how she’s doing.”
“Are you cleared to be here?” The doctor turned to the nurse. “Is he? Her father is very strict about who has access.”
“He’s on limited admit.”
Reid’s gaze raked over Kinley’s small frame. She looked thinner than ever. Her fingers twitched where they lay inside the nurse’s light grip.
“Is the twitching a good sign?”
The doctor followed his gaze. “Yes, it indicates there’s brain activity, as if she is awakening from a deep sleep. That’s exactly what we want to see happen. It’s no guarantee of a full recovery, but it’s a hopeful first step. We were about ready to ask her to respond again.”
The nurse leaned close to Kinley’s ear. “Sweetie, I want you to try to squeeze my hand.” She waited a moment. “That’s it. Good girl. Now try to open your eyes.”
Kinley’s lashes fluttered but her eyes didn’t quite open.
“Good try.” The doctor smiled as he patted her shoulder lightly. “Now rest, and we’ll try again tomorrow.”
“This is good?” Reid felt so out of his element.
“Everybody is unique in how their bodies respond to trauma. Kinley has taken a while because we had her in a drug-induced coma last week to give her body the best chance of healing. Now we’re asking her to come out of it.”
As the doctor answered his questions, Reid sensed that Kinley had received good care even if he wasn’t sure what all the terms meant. “Is there anything else I should know about her status? When she’ll wake up?”
“That is totally up to this young lady.”
The nurse leaned closer and brushed a greasy strand of hair out of his niece’s face. “That’s right, Kinley. It’s time to wake up, sweetie. We’re ready for you to work.”
Kinley’s thin fingers twitched, and Reid watched, willing her to do more. To open her eyes. To wake and tell him everything she’d seen that terrible morning. But nothing more happened.
He slumped. “Is it all right if I sit with her?”
The nurse nodded, her mousy hair bobbing around her face. “I’ll help watch.”
He didn’t ask what she’d watch for, just settled into the chair. His eyes skimmed the computer printouts. All the readings were gobbledygook to him, and the beeps made him jump. “Come on, Kinley. We need you.”
“And I need you to leave.” Robert’s voice stabbed through Reid.
Reid straightened. “Robert.”
Robert strode to the side of Kinley’s bed. “You must leave.”
“Not this time.” Reid refused to flinch from Robert’s intense stare. “I’m glad Kinley’s starting to respond.”
“Take one last good look. As soon as she’s out of here, you’ll never see her again.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Reid set his jaw. “My attorney will change that.”
“No attorney can make that happen.”
“Mine can.”
“You’ll only waste your money. I’m Kinley’s father.”
Reid fisted his hands and blew out a breath. “My attorney is good at this.”
Robert snorted. “The little girl from the Haven? You’ll have to do better than that. Now leave before I call hospital security.”
He knew about Emilie? Reid swallowed hard and then nodded. “I’ll leave, but this isn’t over.”
As he left, he heard Robert sneer, “Yes, it is.”
CHAPTER 31
With a long list of people to contact related to Kinley’s case, Emilie started her day at Daniels, McCarthy & Associates. Rhoda remained adamant that nothing related to Kaylene’s death be investigated from the Haven. After a quick hello to Bella Stoller that turned into a warm chat with the motherly receptionist, Emilie hurried down the hall to the empty office Savannah had opened to her. She’d make her calls and get out before anyone else derailed her with a need to talk. So far, Rhoda hadn’t noticed when she arrived late at the Haven or took a long lunch on occasion, but at some point, she’d ask questions.
Emilie started with a call to Allison Carruthurs, the counselor Kaylene had seen. The woman wouldn’t tell her much in the moment other than she’d had no indication Kaylene planned to use any kind of violence against Robert or the girls.
“Every conversation I had with her was about her strength and how she could escape with the girls. After she told me about how Robert monitored her movements, I knew she must find that strength.”
Emilie paused in her note taking. “What do you mean ‘monitored her movements’?”
“He logged her mileage and matched it against her errands, let her know when she’d gone too many miles. He only gave her the keys when she’d been good. She even told me he seemed to have some way of knowing where she went.”
“You mean following her movements through credit card use?”
“Oh no. That would have required him to trust her with finances. She got cash only if he deemed she’d behaved.” The woman paused. “I don’t want to say too much until I’ve looked at her file, but she commented that he knew her route and where she’d gone.”
“As if he tracked her?”
“Exactly. Might be why he gave her a smart phone.”
Emilie was still thinking about that conversation when her cell phone rang. A minute later she was embroiled in a conversation with Officer Roberts.
“Sorry for the delay returning your call. How can I help you?” The woman’s voice was crisp and focused.
“I wanted some advice.” Emilie quickly filled her in on what had been happening.
There was a moment of silence, then Officer Roberts sighed. “You’re in that place where there’s not enough information for us to act on, but I want you to take precautions.” The woman proceeded to give her the kind of advice Emilie
would give her clients. “If you have more incidents be sure to let me know. Keep a running record too. We’ll need that to build a case if this escalates.”
“I’d like to keep that from happening.”
“So would I. Keep me posted.”
Emilie rubbed her temple where tension coiled. “I will. Thank you.”
By the time she reached the Haven around ten, she was ready to call it a day. Taylor followed her into her office, a legal pad at the ready. “A man came in for you and hovered in the lobby for an hour.”
Emilie frowned. “Did he say who he was?”
“No. He unnerved Johanna though.”
The receptionist was usually unshakeable, a requirement for being the guard. “When was he here?”
“She said from nine fifteen to tenish.”
“Okay, I’ll follow up with her.” Was it her stalker or Nadine’s ex haunting the office? Sometimes people got the most twisted ideas about what was an effective use of their time. Emilie tapped the Hunter file where it sat on her desk. “Can you follow up with your police contact to emphasize that this PO has to be served ASAP?”
“Sure. A friend got me a copy of Kaylene’s concealed carry, by the way. It’s on your desk.”
“Okay, I’ll look at it next.” Emilie paused. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Rhoda asked me to send you to her right away.”
“Any idea why?”
“None.”
Emilie rubbed her forehead. This was going to be one of those days, the ones that left her wishing for a quiet afternoon in front of an air conditioner with a glass of iced tea, soft music playing in the background while she read a book by a favorite author. Instead, today she’d slog through, searching for any iota of control she could wrest while she was carried along in a river that thrust her where it chose.
Emilie’s cell vibrated and shimmied across her desk. She grabbed it and glanced at the number. Reid. The river eddied her around another blind bend. “I’ll take his call, then head to Rhoda’s office.”
Taylor shook her head, her shoulder-length curls swaying. “I wouldn’t. Rhoda really wanted to see you now.”
“Okay.” She tapped a text to Reid. Call you in 15? If she was lucky, Rhoda wouldn’t need much from her. “Thanks.”
Taylor nodded and stepped from her office. Emilie collected her thoughts while grabbing a legal pad, but she froze as her office phone rang. The number was one she didn’t recognize, so she took the call.
“Hi, this is Katie Trainer. You left a message?” The girl’s voice was hesitant, but mature.
“Thanks for getting back to me.” Emilie sat in her chair and grabbed a pen.
“Alaina said you wanted to talk about Kaydence?”
“Yes.”
“She said it was okay to talk with you.”
“I knew Kaydence’s mom and am trying to learn more about their family and what happened.”
“It’s still hard to believe she’s gone.” The girl’s voice wavered.
“I know. Did you know Kaydence well?”
“The three of us did everything together. Sometimes the friends you were close with in elementary and middle school fade in high school, but we didn’t let that happen.”
Emilie well remembered those days and the preciousness of friends who stuck with you through the awkward tween days. “Did you know her mom?”
“Sure. We spent the night at Kaydence’s house a few times, and I saw her at events. She seemed like such a nice lady.” There was a pause and then the girl blew out a breath. “Do you think she killed Kaydence?”
“No.”
“But if she didn’t . . . ”
“That’s part of what I’m trying to figure out.”
“You’re the only one who’s asked about Kaydence. I wish the police cared.”
“They do. They’re busy with so many cases, it can be enticing to accept the easy answer, but I want to make sure it’s the right answer.” Emilie considered where to take the conversation. “Did Kaydence get along with her mom?”
“Better than I do with mine. It felt like it was them against her dad.”
“Why?”
“He was so strict, and it drove Kaydence crazy. There was this nice guy from my youth group that she liked, and her dad wouldn’t even let her go on a group date. He wanted to keep her little, but she was headed to college in a couple years. What would he do then?”
“A good question. Did she ever say he hurt her?”
“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did something to Mrs. Adams.”
“Really? Why?”
“There was a time when she dropped Kaydence off, but had a sprained ankle. Another time she had bruises on her arm, but Kaydence said her mom was clumsy.”
“Maybe she was.”
“Maybe, but there was something about the way Kaydence said it that made me think she was reading a script, you know?”
“I do.” She’d seen it before. Clients who had said something so many times, they parroted it even when they knew they could be honest. Kaydence might have wanted to share what happened at home with her friends, but it sounded like she hadn’t. Who provided the script? Mom or Dad? “What was Kaydence like?”
“Smart and quick with words. She always knew what to say. She knew how to get the teachers to love her and how to put a classmate in their place without crossing the line to cruel.”
There was a knock at her door, and Emilie looked up to see Johanna standing there holding a huge bouquet of multicolored roses exploding from a crystal vase. Her jaw dropped and she gestured toward the corner of her desk. “That’s interesting. Why do you think that was?”
“Because it was the only way to survive at home.”
Emilie let the silence build as she waited for Katie to continue. Johanna set the flowers down and then slipped from the office, the scent of roses soon filling the small room.
“You have to understand—Kaydence never said anything that I can point to as proof her dad abused them. But there was always this cloud on her face when she talked about him. It evaporated the moment she’d talk about her mom or Kinley.” There was a loud noise in the background. “I have to go, Miss Wesley.”
“Can I call if I have other questions?”
“Sure. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can.”
“Thank you.”
After she hung up, Emilie took a moment to collect her thoughts and jot them down while Katie’s comments were fresh. There was something about what she’d said—the young woman intuited something more happened behind closed doors, but it wasn’t enough evidence to convince a judge Kinley needed to go home with her uncle. For that to happen, she needed appeal-proof verification that Kinley’s best interests would be harmed if she went home.
And that substantiation seemed impossible.
She tugged the small card from the flowers and opened it. For the loveliest woman of all.
Of course it was unsigned. Could Reid have sent them? She snapped a photo and sent it to Reid with a quick thank you. The bouquet was a little over the top, but beautiful.
Her phone dinged with a text. Robert knows about you.
Reid’s message made no sense. How?
Not sure.
Emilie gathered her legal pad and pen and wove her way through the office maze to Rhoda’s office. The executive director’s office had a bank of windows that were filled with bulletproof glass . . . just in case. The sad thing was those precautions were needed. One corner of one pane had a feathering that marred the smooth surface where a frustrated ex had brought a gun to communicate his anger. Rhoda had placed a beautiful ficus tree in front of it to show her clients beauty could grow in places touched by violence and fear. There was also an abundance of sunlight that created a place of life unhindered by the gauzy curtains that filtered light but allowed it to fill the room.
There was a small oval coffee table flanked by a petite love seat and two stuffed chairs. A box of childre
n’s toys sat on a shelf next to a row of picture books and coloring pages. There were also adult coloring books and an assortment of colored pencils to give the women a distraction while they told their stories. Staring at someone could freeze a person’s story in her chest no matter how much she wanted to talk. The simple diversion of a coloring page could unlock that door.
Rhoda sat behind a small desk with spindly legs, her files in a locked credenza.
Everything about the office was welcoming, just like Rhoda used to be . . . until Kaylene died. The ripple effects of that act were far reaching. Emilie felt the vibrations as she knocked on Rhoda’s open door and walked in.
“Ah, good. I’ve been waiting for you.” Small lines radiated from the corners of her eyes, a tightness to Rhoda’s features that hinted at a tsunami of tension. “Taylor filled you in.”
“On our visitor? Yes.”
“Good. I assume that visit’s related to yesterday’s hearing.”
Emilie nodded as she sank onto a chair in front of Rhoda’s desk. “I think so. The ex was in the courtroom until the judge was ready for us and then disappeared. I’m not certain where he went or why he’d come here today, but it’s logical in a twisted way. I’ll check with Johanna when we’re done.”
“Good. You got the PO?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Rhoda pushed back from her desk and took her reading glasses off. “I don’t like to say things like this, but since you’ll be affected, I feel I should let you know. There’s a strong chance we’re losing our lead funding source.”
“Why?”
“He’s eccentric and doesn’t believe we’re effective enough to prevent situations like the Adams case from repeating.” Rhoda set her hands on her lap, but not before Emilie noted their tremble. “It’s easy to argue we weren’t responsible, but it’s also simple to say we didn’t do enough. Right now I’m losing the debate.”
“Would it help if I could prove Kaylene wasn’t the murderer, that something else happened?”
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