The Darkest Secrets

by Heather Wynter

  She stepped over the piles of things to reach the black and silver stagecoach, a broken-down wooden toy to the average person. But Amelia understood why her mother would choose it for safekeeping. It certainly had gone unnoticed by the intruder, so its ability to blend in certainly made it an appealing hideaway. And it had a working boot compartment, the place where luggage would be stowed on a real stagecoach. If you didn’t know it was there, you would never know it opened with the perfect hiding place for tiny treasures.

  Amelia smiled as she popped it open. When she was little, she would always hide her favorite things in there for safekeeping. But now, a flash drive fell out into her hands. Odd. It fueled her curiosity. What could possibly be on this flash drive? What had her mother left on it?

  She pocketed the flash drive, then carefully put the stagecoach back in the pile of old toys where she found it, so if whoever ransacked this place came back, they wouldn’t know they’d missed something. She would call Everett in the morning and let him know the attic had been ransacked, that he might want to change the locks of the house. She still wasn’t sure if she was going to live here or not, but she wanted it safe in the meantime.

  A noise downstairs reminded her that Trent was with her. Should she tell him what she found? She’d at least have to tell him she found the stagecoach so he wouldn’t keep looking. But would she share the flash drive?

  She had to, right? Why not? She trusted him. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide. Before she headed downstairs, though, a book caught her eye. A diary. More of her mother’s secrets? She walked towards it.

  A knock at the door stopped her.

  “Ah, Amelia!” Trent called out. “Someone might want to talk to you.”

  She hurried down the stairs as she heard the door open. Trent sounded nervous, confused. He didn’t know that the attic had been broken into and she cursed herself for not warning him. For not thinking of him. She’d put them both in danger. She reached for her gun as she neared the last step.

  She put it back. Trent was standing with two uniformed officers from the Nashville Police Department in the entrance. They all looked up at her as she came down.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, truly confused.

  The older, slightly pudgy one crossed his arms. “I sure hope so. We got a call claiming this house was being robbed. Are you the homeowner?”

  “No. Well, yes, actually. You see, this is my mother’s house. Or at least was. She passed away. Which is probably why a neighbor thought someone was breaking in. But she left it to me, so I’m here to grab some things and check it out.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said in that uncomfortable way strangers talk when you have to tell them about the death of someone close to you. Amelia hated it. So personal with someone who shouldn’t know anything about her.

  “Do you have any ID?” the younger officer asked. “We just need to verify. You know, procedures.”

  She and Trent flashed their badges and moved to get their IDs.

  “No need, detectives. We didn’t know. We’ll get out of your hair.”

  “No worries,” she smiled. “Thanks for keeping us all safe.”

  Trent and Amelia watched them leave, then turned to each other. “Please tell me you found the stagecoach,” Trent said.

  “I did,” she smiled. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem. So, what’s the big deal with it?”

  “I don’t know.” She didn’t know why she didn’t tell Trent what she found, or why she hadn’t told the officers about the break-in. This all just seemed like things she had to deal with on her own. She didn’t want help. Didn’t want anyone intruding on the conversation she was having with her dead mother. “I’m exhausted, though. See you tomorrow!”

  With that, she left Trent hanging as she went home to get some much-needed sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Amelia’s mind was already buzzing by the time she got to work. On time, for once. She’d taken Trent’s advice and set an alarm for herself, but she was so new to using alarms that she still wasn’t sure what was a good time to set it to. She’d hoped to crack open that flash drive before work, but she rushed through her morning, refusing to be late after that tough conversation she’d had with Trent.

  At least she had that going for her today. She wasn’t late. She would finally show Trent that she was taking this all seriously. That she cared. She smiled as she pictured the look on his face as she walked through the door.

  A smile that quickly turned into a frown. She stopped and stared at Special Agent Gabe Ryan, who was standing at her desk talking with Trent and the lieutenant. He stood up straight as she approached. He was tall, muscular, yet somehow looked unassuming with that stupid smile of his. Bright blue eyes under brown hair that always looked just slightly unkempt.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. As if her life couldn’t get any worse.

  “Hello, Slate,” Gabe said, flashing her a smile. “Happy to see you, too.”

  “I take it you two know each other so we can skip the introductions,” the lieutenant said. Amelia had never been overly fond of him. Didn’t seem like he liked her too much, either. “Special Agent Ryan has been called in to help us catch this serial killer.

  “I know some of us have big egos here.” He looked directly at Amelia. Narrowed his eyes. Then at Trent. An unspoken accusation. “But getting this guy before he strikes again is far more important than personal vendettas or pride. I expect full cooperation from all parties. Get him updated and keep me in the loop. Catching this guy is our main priority.”

  After a nod of acknowledgement from all three, the lieutenant disappeared into his office again. Gabe turned to Amelia as she sat down at her desk and tried not to throttle him.

  “Look, Ames, I know you don’t like me, but I’m just here to help. Nothing more, nothing less. You guys have the lead on this. You know the case. I’m not trying to steal that from you. It’s just the FBI has the resources you need, things you can’t access at a local level. We can get far more done if we work together.”

  “Sounds good.” Amelia clenched her fist under her desk but kept the mask on her face calm and collected. “I’m willing to try anything that helps us solve this case, so let’s get to it.

  “We’re heading out to talk to Emma Green again today. She’s one of the victims whose fingerprint was found at the latest crime scene. You must’ve already looked over the case?”

  He nodded. “She is the reason I was pulled in. You know we don’t get involved in local murders. As far as I know, this case doesn’t cross state lines or have any reason to have the FBI involved, until Emma Green’s fingerprint hit.”

  “Good. We will see if she remembers anything we missed, try to figure out how her print might’ve ended up there. Are you riding with us or driving yourself?” Amelia pasted on the fakest smile she could muster, and it was all Trent could do not to laugh.

  “Gabe, why don't you meet us in the garage in about thirty minutes?” Trent said.

  “You got it.” He glanced at Amelia. “Good luck.”

  It took all of Amelia’s self control not to react to that, but she didn’t. She was trying to do better. It just seemed like life was always testing her.

  “You want to tell me what the hell that was about?” Trent asked the second Gabe was out of sight. He sat across from Amelia, who refused to look up.

  “No. Actually, I do not.” She was trying not to snap, but she had no choice now. This was utterly unfair. Trent didn’t feed into it, though. Didn’t reply. Just sat there.

  “Really?” she asked, as he continued to sit there and watch silently. She sighed. “Fine. He’s the hotshot who took my cases when I lost my shit and left the bureau. Happy?”

  “No, that sucks. It must be hard on you, and, believe it or not, I don’t like to see you all stressed out like this. But I am glad you told me, so you can vent to me after work. I’m here to listen, and
it helps to have friends who know what you’re going through. In the meantime, I know it’s tough, but you must be professional. You know it wasn’t his choice, and you would’ve accepted the same offer if you were in his position.”

  “I know.” She shook her head. “I get that. I’m just surprised that out of all the agents in the FBI, they sent him. They must’ve known.”

  “For what it’s worth, I honestly don’t think it was on purpose. Still, that’s gotta sting. But you know we need the resources they can provide, especially with how this killer is escalating. It’s worth the sucky situation. Besides, I got your back. This is Nashville PD, not the bureau. Let’s go figure this shit out.”

  As they waited for Emma, Amelia thought of her mother. It was odd. For years she had shoved her family to the background of her mind. She didn’t think about her mother often, didn’t think about anything from the past often. She thought she’d put everything behind her. What a joke that was. Now it seemed that was all she could think about.

  She thought her mother might like Emma, though, if she ever met this grown-up version of her. She certainly would’ve appreciated her garden. Emma had the most gorgeous collection of flowers, all thriving under just the right amount of light and shade. There was something about it that looked carefully curated.

  Clearly, Emma had money. They were in front of a modern mansion, and every ounce of it oozed wealth. But her garden reminded Amelia of the garden her mother used to keep. Unique. It had its own style. She had the green thumb Amelia hadn’t inherited. She hoped that Emma had managed to find some peace among her plants after everything she’d gone through.

  She was nervous, though, as Emma’s car pulled in. She didn’t want to disturb any peace she had found. She knew that if people had kept asking her questions after she was kidnapped, it would’ve only served to traumatize her further. But she had a job to do. Emma had to understand that. Catching this killer was more important than anything else.

  Still, she looked weary as she stepped out of her car, still in yoga clothes that showed how toned and strong she was. Her dark hair was pulled back, blue eyes narrowed. A gym bag was slung over her shoulder. Perhaps the one that had saved her?

  “Emma.” Amelia stepped forward. She often took the lead when it came to talking to female victims and suspects, just like Trent often did with males. Sexist? Maybe. Worked in their favor, though. “I’m glad we caught you. Could we talk to you for a few minutes? We have a development in the case we think you should know about.”

  “Who’s this?” she asked, gesturing towards Gabe. Her body was tense with a suspicious stance. She wouldn’t let just anyone into her house. Amelia wouldn’t, either.

  “I’m Special Agent Gabe Ryan from the FBI,” he said as he stepped forward and offered his hand to her. Emma looked at it, then shook it hesitantly.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said. It pleased Amelia just a little that Emma didn’t seem like she liked Gabe one bit. “I guess I have a few minutes. You can come in.”

  Amelia didn’t like how uncomfortable Emma looked about all of this, but she’d be safer once they had a suspect. It wasn’t ever easy for any of their victims. At least she had made it out alive.

  They followed her into a large foyer which looked like it came straight from an Instagram page. A white cat ran up to greet them, and Amelia couldn’t help but flinch. Emma threw down her gym bag and picked her up, nuzzled her for a moment.

  “Hello, Dove,” she cooed. “How are you, sweetheart?”

  Amelia took that moment to take in the house. It was her first time being there. Before, they’d talked to Emma at the hospital and then at the police department. It looked like the house of a survivor, though only those who had survived would pick up on that.

  It was an open floor plan so intruders could be seen. Amelia spotted a camera watching them. The hidden secrets behind a modern, luxurious house with bold colors against white. A soothing fountain. Plants flourishing everywhere. Looked like Emma was reaching for enlightenment, for peace. Had she found it?

  She walked into the living room, still carrying Dove, then plopped down into a bright green chair that looked kind of like a folded leaf. The detectives took their seats on her white couch, facing her. Dove purred lovingly.

  “So, before we launch into everything, we wanted to pick your brain for a moment,” Amelia said. “We’re hoping you can help us narrow down anything about the suspect. Shock has a way of hiding things. Most victims can’t recount exact details right after they’re safe from their ordeal. But in time, memories often return.

  “You were trapped there for days. We suspect that you must’ve at least seen a glimpse of the man, it’s hard to imagine how you couldn’t have. Even if it seems miniscule, you most likely noticed something that can help us. You had the most amount of time with him.”

  “So now that things are a bit more settled, would you mind telling us again about the days you were being held in the house? We can start from the beginning and go from there. Maybe there’s something new you remember. Even the slightest detail may be the clue we’re looking for.”

  “I don’t really see the point of reliving that.” She looked away, down at Dove. “I’ve gone over it all already multiple times. We’ve started from right when I was kidnapped, all the way through, and it’s more difficult each time. I don’t like having to keep remembering. My therapist says it’s good to move past things. Don’t let the past keep traumatizing you.”

  “I understand that it can be difficult,” Amelia said, hoping to catch Emma’s eye. She knew that Amelia knew what she had gone through before. She just needed that eye contact, needed to convince her to trust her. Even if she did agree with her therapist. “But like I said, things get revealed in time, and this is important. As you know, he’s still out there. We want to do anything we can to stop him from hurting any other women. Once this is all over, it might make it easier for you to heal.”

  “I know I just…” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I just don’t remember much. I wish I could help, but I can’t keep talking about this.”

  “Let me just cut to the chase, Ms. Green,” Gabe said, ruining any connection there was. Amelia hated him and his blunt tactics, but she couldn’t show that then. “We found your fingerprint on the shoe of the killer’s latest victim. As you can imagine, this is highly unusual and caught our attention. Now we’re just trying to figure out why.”

  Amelia noticed how Gabe didn’t take his eyes off Emma as he watched her squirm. He also didn’t tell her that the fingerprint was found in blood. He didn’t shock her as much as he could’ve, and he left it open for her to lie. Amelia didn’t expect the reaction Emma had. Maybe he did know what he was doing.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. Her face had paled. Eyes wide. She looked truly shocked. Frightened. Her hands shook as she petted Dove. “How could my fingerprint be on her shoe? You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”

  “Of course not,” Amelia rushed in to assure her. “We think you were framed. At the very least, we suspect that someone else put your fingerprint there for a reason. But we’re trying to figure out how. Why. Did you touch anything while you were captive? Anything that might’ve been imprinted?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “And no one came in until you guys did. I was alone as far as I know. I don’t know how he could’ve gotten my print.”

  “I see.” Amelia didn’t want to ask the next question, but it was necessary. No matter how much harder it made life for Emma. “Do you know anyone in your personal life who might have something against you? Have you made anyone mad lately? Is there anyone who might’ve orchestrated this exchange to hurt you for whatever reason?”

  “What?” Her whole body went rigid. “Are you suggesting someone close to me had something to do with this?”

  “We can’t know for sure,” Amelia said. She debated whether to tell her that most crimes are committed by those closest to the victim and decid
ed against it. “But we have to keep all our options open. Follow every possibility. I know it’s a difficult thing to think about. But we can’t write anything off.”

  “Well, I mean my father…” She looked away, shook her head. “I just don’t understand all this. It’s such a mess. Do you think I’m in danger? I just can’t take this again.”

  “We have no reason to believe you’re in danger.” Amelia looked her in her eyes and held her gaze. “There could be a simple explanation for this. Crime scenes unfortunately get tampered with from time to time before we have an opportunity to make a perimeter to keep it safe. We just have to ask the questions and be as thorough as possible. Of course, it’s always good to be vigilant. Be on guard, look out for things, especially with this guy on the loose. But you don’t need to worry about it too much. We’re going to do everything we can to keep you safe.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to smile and failed. “I just, I really don’t have any idea how that could happen. I’ve lived a pretty low-profile life since...” Her voice trailed off, but Amelia had already guessed her answer. This cautiousness had started years ago. Emma’s family was consistently talked about, their lives splashed across social media. But Emma stayed in the shadows. She didn’t have much of a presence anywhere. She was invisible compared to the rest of her family.

  “Since the incident,” she continued. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. Maybe it is simple, though. Maybe she was a client, and I touched her while trying to help with a pose. I do that now and then.”

  “That’s a good place to start,” Amelia smiled. She knew the fingerprint was in blood so the only way for it to get there was for Emma’s finger to have been in the blood, but it was best to keep Emma as calm as possible. Some of the tension left Emma’s body as she nodded. “I can see this has been difficult, so if you don’t have anything else to share, we’ll get out of your hair. Stay safe, and if you think of anything, please call us.”