by Cara Putman
“That’s my point. Lightning won’t strike twice unless you’re out there with your kite and key. What are you doing to find your next exposé everyone will talk about?”
Emilie’s throat suddenly felt brick dry. She picked up the delicate china cup and took a quick sip of the soothing English Breakfast. “I haven’t found inspiration, nor have you funneled many ideas my way.”
“Yes . . . ”
“So there isn’t much.”
“And that’s a problem.” Olivia’s gaze bored into her. “Do you know how many articles we publish a day?”
“No.”
“If you came to staff meetings, you would. More than fifty.”
“But it’s online. We can go down and no one notices.”
“Au contraire. The publisher, investors, and advertisers notice. And they’re asking about you. It’s been more than two weeks since your last article, and that one wasn’t up to your usual caliber.”
“This is the first deadline I’ve missed. Every writer hits a slump.”
“Yes, but there are a thousand aspiring opinion changers in this town who want to take your place. Each assures me they will get every piece in on time, if not early.”
There was nothing she could say . . . unless she had the story of the year. Her thoughts flitted to Kaylene’s death. Maybe she did . . . but not quite yet.
Olivia read her silence with a sigh. “I see. Well, I’m afraid I have to replace you.”
“Could I take a leave of absence?” Emilie couldn’t let go of everything she had worked so long and hard to build. “I have a track record of stellar pieces, and often more than you requested.”
“It’s not how we do things.”
Emilie’s heart stuttered. She couldn’t let go of reporting, not when she loved it. “As you mentioned, we won’t know if my Rodriguez report finaled or won the Pulitzer for months. Letting me take a vacation while keeping my allegiances tied to you is in your best interests.”
Olivia pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’ll ask, but I still need your article.”
“Thank you.” Emilie wouldn’t beg for her job, especially not when she was struggling to string words together. However, she’d invested years into building her right to speak on relevant issues, and she valued the forum it gave her. “I’ll find something.”
“Quickly, I hope. Even if I can talk the publisher into this scheme, there are no guarantees how long we can hold a slot. The pressure is intense for an article now.”
“Understood.”
Olivia waved for the check, and within a matter of minutes Emilie found herself on the street. It was a slow walk to her car, and she allowed her thoughts to wander.
Was it time to give up writing?
Most thought it was a side hobby for her, the identity she’d built as E. M. Wesley. That she had an online, go-to political news source to display her investigations had been a side benefit. While not HuffPost or The Federalist, it aspired to be and got closer each month.
Now it was slipping from her fingers. Of course she could hope to transition her writing to another news source, but she didn’t want to start at the bottom again unless she had no choice.
In many ways she’d dabbled in writing and the law to have a fallback when she decided she didn’t like one or it decided it was done with her. But it was supposed to be on her terms.
Now both endeavors that brought her such joy felt threatened.
If only she could go back to before Kaylene died.
CHAPTER 23
Her phone dinged as she climbed into her super-heated car. A text from Taylor told her to call Detective Gaines ASAP and listed a new number for him. Emilie groaned as she leaned against the hot seat of her little Coop. What could he have learned since this morning? She wasn’t sure she could handle one more blow in an already rough week. It had to be five o’clock somewhere. Surely she could call it a week.
The responsible part of her dialed his number and waited for him to pick up. When he did, they agreed to a time and place to meet. He hadn’t wanted to meet at the police station, but had been willing to see her that evening. She’d have just enough time to get to the designated park in Fort Ward if rush hour cooperated.
The location seemed a little cloak-and-dagger, so she called Hayden so someone would know where to find her if she disappeared—admitting to herself she’d read too many thrillers. On her way she detoured to a gas station and bought two bottles of ice-cold water, then pulled into the parking lot.
When she reached the small bandstand in the park, she found the detective sitting on a bench, wearing a basic navy suit and watching peoples’ comings and goings. There was a studied relaxation to his stance that telegraphed how alert he was—was he expecting her to do something crazy?
She sighed and adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, then lifted her chin and marched to him. No way would she allow him to know she was anything less than perfectly comfortable.
When she sank onto his bench and pulled two bottles of water from her bag, his eyebrows spiked. “It’s a warm enough day. I thought you’d like a cool drink.”
“Thanks.” He took the bottle and downed half of it in one swig. “I had one of the techs take a quick stab at cleaning up the video.”
“That was fast. Thank you.” She set her purse beside her on the bench. “Did it change anything?”
“Maybe.”
Her pulse spiked at the word, but he moved his hands up and down in a placating gesture. “There’s nothing clear, just an impression it gives me that she’s uncomfortable with the gun. It also looks like she’s looking for help. It could mean she’s a good actress.”
“Or that she knew she was dying.”
“Or that her girls needed assistance.” He looked at her, gray gaze boring through her. “What are the odds an argument got out of control?”
“Definitely possible.” Emilie took a sip of the cool water as she thought about what Kaylene had told her in their appointments. “Robert wasn’t often physically violent, maybe only one time. But he used his words like fists. It sounded like he could shred people in an instant and turn any conversation into a heated argument.”
“So how would a gun get involved?”
“I’m not certain.” She studied her hands, then decided to trust him. “She may have explored getting a gun.”
“She had a concealed carry. But we can’t tell whose gun she had when she died because the serial number was filed off.”
“So it could have been Robert’s.”
“Or one either of them bought off a dealer. We’ll never know.”
“If she had a concealed carry permit, wouldn’t she have to have a gun?”
He shook his head. “Not necessarily. Some people get them in the event they ever get a gun.”
Emilie thought about that, but nothing about Kaylene having a gun or a permit to carry one made sense. “Unless she needed it to feel safe when they left.”
Detective Gaines looked at her with a question in his eyes. “I’m not following.”
“Kaylene wanted to get away from violence, not create it. The only way her having a gun makes sense is if she was convinced she had to have one to successfully escape.”
“She thought her husband would follow her.”
“Exactly. And he would have tried.” That would explain the diamonds as relatively ready cash. She still had to check on the stones to see if they were real.
“Unfortunately, none of this changes the reality that she killed her kid.” Detective Gaines leaned forward. “Look, I know you want to believe your client was set up. That’s impossible. Hers are the lone, clear prints on the gun, and they’re where we would expect them to be for someone who shot it.”
“What do you mean the only clear prints?”
“There were smudges of overlapping fingerprints, but nothing we could run.”
Emilie let the idea run through her mind. “Then how are hers usable?”
“She fired the gun.”<
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“But Kaylene was shot. Someone else used the gun, if you’re sure she was shot with it.”
“Ballistics confirms it. Shot with her own gun.”
“There must have been a struggle.” She could imagine the fear and adrenaline Kaylene had experienced. “She must have been so scared and in pain.”
“Probably.” He didn’t say anything else.
All right. She’d brainstorm as if he were cooperating. Maybe plant an idea in his mind. “What if her husband wore gloves?”
“Then we would have found the gloves. We didn’t.”
“Did you search him?”
“As soon as the scene was contained. Officer safety came first.”
“Okay.” She thought through her questions. “What did you see when you arrived?”
“Two girls shot, one dead. A mother who died on the scene clutching the gun used in the shooting. A father deep in shock who insisted it couldn’t have happened.”
“Did you interview him?”
“Yes.” Detective Gaines stood and his jaw locked. “He was as you’d expect. He didn’t know what had happened or why. He insisted it was a quiet day. Kept coming back to the fact that they were going school shopping.”
“And for no reason at all Kaylene grabbed a gun and started shooting.”
“Yes.”
That was less believable than the idea that she had premeditated the series of events. “Have you talked to any of her friends?”
“Her husband says she kept to herself.”
“Because he made her.”
“That’s your opinion.” He glanced at his watch. “Send in a formal request, and I’ll send you the cleaned-up footage.”
“Before you leave, could I ask your opinion on another matter?”
“Quickly.”
She told him about the notes she’d received and the shadows. “I’m going through files and trying to connect with Officer Roberts as you suggested. Is there anything else you’d recommend?”
“Try to minimize handling of any notes.”
“I have, and I’m keeping them in a folder.”
“Good. If you don’t hear from Officer Roberts by Monday, let me know. She’s the best at these sorts of cases.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned toward her, seriousness cloaking his rugged features. “Don’t minimize this situation. If it escalates, let me know immediately.”
Emilie’s thoughts returned to Kaylene. “Was anyone else in the Adamses’ house?”
“Her husband says no, and we didn’t find evidence of anyone.”
“Okay. Maybe he’s hiding something.” He had to be, because otherwise she might have to accept that Kaylene had done the unthinkable.
“Maybe, but the evidence won’t change because she’s dead. And her husband is incredibly consistent in his story.”
Her interest was piqued. “Incredibly?”
“Yes. Almost word-for-word repetitive.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes. But there’s nothing you can do with that. If I could, I would.”
It was a slim opening, but it was an opening. “Can I get a copy of your report and notes?”
“If you go through the proper channels.”
“We’ve tried.”
“Give the desk sergeant a call.” He gave her a name and number. “He should help.”
She nodded. It was something. “Thank you. I’ll follow up on that.”
“Good luck.” He paused a moment. “I wish your version of events was right. It’s horrifying to think a mom would do this, but unfortunately it happens. Often for no easy-to-understand reason. We may never know why she snapped.”
“Kinley’s the only eyewitness.”
He paused. “What do you mean?”
“What if she knows something she’s not supposed to?”
“We won’t know unless she wakes up.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “We’ve talked about the possibility.”
“She might need a safe place to land.”
“Then I suggest you have one ready. But you’ll have an uphill road to get a judge on board.”
She didn’t need him reminding her of that.
The detective went on his way, moving in a remarkably stealthy manner for such a tall man. As she followed his progress, she noted someone in a hooded sweatshirt watching her from the edge of the trees. How long had he been there?
She had to leave while Detective Gaines was still near and before the shadow approached. Emilie suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed. She swallowed, stood, and then gathered her purse and tried to walk without breaking into a panic-stricken run.
Still, once she reached the top of the hill, she looked back to see if she could make out any details of the hooded man. He was gone. Disappeared as much like a ghost as he’d been every other time she’d spotted him.
In spite of the warmth, she felt chilled to the bone and exposed.
CHAPTER 24
Saturday morning Emilie stopped at Alexandria Heirlooms and Jewels in Old Town on her way to work. She stepped into the shop off King Street, her bag tucked firmly against her side. She may not know the exact worth of the stones she carried, but she had a feeling they were real and valuable.
A man with gray hair and glasses perched on a beak-like nose stepped from a back room. “Can I help you?”
“I wondered if there was someone here who could appraise a few diamonds for me.”
“I can do that.” He rattled off a list of letters that she supposed were designed to tell her he was qualified. “I can examine them right here and give you a loose estimate. Then you can leave them for a more careful inspection.”
“Let’s start with the quick one.”
“Come over here and have a seat while I test the stones.”
She sank onto a stool that was set in front of a bank of glass display cases. He pulled a small instrument from beneath the case.
“This is a diamond tester that will send heat through your stones to test whether they are diamonds.”
She pulled the padded envelope from her bag and carefully opened it, shaking the diamonds into her palm. He pulled out a velvet pad, and she set the gems on it.
“Let’s see what we have.” He picked up the largest diamond with a pair of tweezers and carried it to a microscope. “The clarity and color are very nice. Looks to be 2.5 carats.” He replaced the stone and then repeated the process with the others. “These are nice stones.”
“Approximately how much are they worth?”
“Based on this quick survey, for insurance purposes I’d say $50,000. For sale, probably five to ten thousand, less if you need the cash quickly.”
Emilie considered how far Kaylene could have taken the girls on the lesser amount. “Thank you.”
“Do you want to sell them?”
“Not today.” She replaced the diamonds in the envelope and then in her purse. “I’ll need to think about it. Thanks for your help.”
She let the numbers bounce around her mind as she went to work to get ready for Monday’s hearing. That amount could have bought time for Kaylene to get a job and start taking care of the girls on her own. If only they’d been able to leave.
Taylor had gotten Nadine’s motion for a protective order on file with the court. Now it was time for a phone call with Nadine to prep her for the hearing. While the woman would have to testify, she would rely on Emilie to convince the judge that the PO was necessary to protect Nadine and her little guy, Jonathan.
Nadine’s first question was focused. “Please tell me he won’t be there.”
“I don’t know. Usually respondents don’t show up for preliminary hearings. Most don’t have any idea that a motion is pending. That’s why it starts as a fifteen-day order.”
“I can’t do this.” There was a hoarse note to Nadine’s voice. “He’ll kill me when he finds out.”
“If we don’t do this, you’ll never escape. And the judge won’t issue the order without testimony fro
m you.” Emilie spoke in a softer tone. “I’ll be there to guide you.”
“I don’t like talking to strangers.”
“Judge Monica Bell is a woman you will feel comfortable talking to.” Some of her clients had frozen the moment they were called in front of the bench and couldn’t provide one word of testimony. In many ways that was worse than never filing if the abuser found out. “I won’t lie to you and say it’s a sure thing, Nadine, but I will do all I can to ensure you and Jonathan are protected.” She couldn’t let Nadine’s hopes rise only to have her shell-shocked and traumatized if her boyfriend appeared.
Those were moments she hated her job. She wanted to keep the world safe and contained for Nadine, but that was beyond her power. Nadine reluctantly agreed, and Emilie let her know what kind of information the judge would need. “See you Monday morning at eleven.”
Emilie signed off and sank back into her chair.
But there were so many more times she’d come through and saved her clients.
Was it really you?
The voice startled her.
Taylor hurried into her office. “Did you need something?”
Emilie shook off the voice. “What are you doing here? It’s Saturday, get out and enjoy.”
“I’m doing what you are, getting things ready for next week. But I’m leaving in a minute. Do you need anything before I go?”
“No.” Other than another rush of adrenaline. Her heart had responded to the whisper by taking off. She could practically feel it beating against her rib cage. “Nadine’s prepared for the hearing.”
“Great. I hope it goes well.”
“Me too.” Emilie pressed a hand against her heart as Taylor left.
Don’t underestimate My presence in your success, child.
Emilie lurched to her feet, her chair scraping behind her. “Father?” Her whisper seemed to echo in the room. “I need to get out of here.”
Emilie grabbed her purse and keys and bolted from her office. In no time, she had gotten into her car and driven back to her town house. A quick change later, and she was headed back out in workout clothes with a bottle of water, careful to take roads that had lots of foot traffic.
She fast-walked toward Tide Lock Park, seeking a moment of peace and clarity. There was something about the sliver of green next to the Potomac that gave her a sense of time and space. It had been part of the lock system to move boats along the river until it flooded in the 1820s. If this thin slice of beauty could bring peace, surely there was a similar slice in her life that could do the same.
