by Rick Mofina
“It has to do with Darmont Hill College’s Student Names Policy.”
“The Names Policy?”
“Most schools have such policies. Former students can request a name change to their records and diplomas. It’s mostly common when they get married, or change their name for other reasons, as long as they supply the proper documents.”
“I see.”
“Mr. Grant...” Parkerfield lowered his voice. “The woman you enquired about, Emma Anne Chance? She didn’t attend and graduate from Dalton under that name.”
“What?”
Now Parkerfield had Ben’s full attention.
“No, not long after she graduated she requested and received a name change. All of her records were changed to be under the name Emma Anne Chance and we issued a new diploma with the changed name.”
Ben swallowed hard. “Do you know what Emma’s name—I mean Emma Chance’s name was prior to her changing it?”
“Yes, it was Vanessa Prather.”
Ben shook his head. He was shocked into a moment of silence, but then realized it must be a coincidence, and forced himself to recover. “Is that her full name?”
“Full name is Vanessa Claire Prather.”
His heart pounded. “You’re certain?”
“Yes. She’s originally from Maryland.”
“Spell out her full name.”
Parkerfield spelled it out. It matched the name Tessa had found.
Ben’s stomach heaved, his knees buckled and he staggered, slamming his back against the car door, his shirt bunching up his back as he slid to the sidewalk, staring at the Klassyn duplex as Clinton Parkerfield’s tiny voice called to him from a million miles away.
Seventy-Seven
Orange County, California
Present day
Striding back and forth in her living room, hugging herself, Emma battled to calm the tingling in her chest.
Her throat had gone dry, constricted as if a noose were tightening around it.
Through the front window, she glimpsed an Orange County Sheriff’s car rushing down her street.
Time was ticking down on her.
Her first thought was to get her passport, and Kayla’s, and fly to Canada to join Ben.
I could figure things out there. But could I survive going back to Eternity?
She rushed upstairs, grabbed suitcases. As she packed, she abandoned the idea of going as far as leaving the country now. Still, she got the passports just in case.
After packing, she placed her phone and laptop on the kitchen table. Then she made a few quick calls from their landline.
Glad she’d parked in the garage, Emma went through the kitchen, loaded the suitcases and Tug into her SUV, then she silenced her phone and laptop, then completely shut them down before intentionally leaving them behind.
She drove through the neighborhood, counting three marked police units; saw deputies going door-to-door with tablets and clipboards. Guessing the investigation was not at the stage of roadblocks, she was relieved no one had stopped her.
Several minutes later, Emma wheeled into the lot of the SoCal Seaside Assurance bank, parking in a palm-shaded spot.
After tying Tug’s leash to the wheel, she lowered all the windows almost halfway and locked the doors.
“You stay here. Be good. I’ll be right back.”
Tug barked and Emma went inside, her mind racing while in line, remembering that there were federal laws concerning large cash withdrawals over ten thousand dollars. A large amount would draw suspicion.
“I’d like to withdraw five thousand in cash,” Emma told the teller when it was her turn.
“Five thousand?”
“Yes, we’re getting work done on the house with contractors.”
The teller held Emma with a cool gaze for a second, nodded, got the cash and counted it out.
In the lot, Emma found a man wearing dark glasses and a ballcap beside her SUV. He had bent down to tie his shoe and when he stood he was staring at Tug.
“You know, lady, you shouldn’t leave your dog unattended in the vehicle like that.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It’s not good for them. There are laws, you know.”
“I know, thank you,” she said before buckling up and pulling out of the lot.
Driving off, she checked her mirrors for anyone who might be following her but saw nothing.
Ten minutes later, Emma, stopped at a cream-colored strip mall bordered with a trimmed hedge. She parked in front of Irina’s Home Away From Home. She took Tug’s leash and they entered. Irina’s smelled of dog and shampoo. They went to the counter where a teenage girl smiled at Tug.
“Hi. I called about boarding my friend Tug here.”
“Oh yes. We remember Tug.” She looked in her computer. “For thirty days?”
“Yes, to be safe. We should be back by then. Emergency family trip.”
“I see we have all Tug’s information from last time. Any medications?”
“No.”
“Any special instructions, considerations?”
Emma reached into her bag for Tug’s blue rubber ball, handing it to the girl.
“He likes to play catch with his ball.”
“Ahh.” The girl took it and smiled at Tug.
“He’s an easygoing guy,” Emma said. “I’ll pay in advance. How much is it?”
“Six hundred.”
Emma paid in cash, then lowered herself and gave Tug a crushing hug.
“I love you so much, buddy!”
Tug licked her face before she handed his leash to the girl.
Driving away, Emma brushed tears from her eyes.
She then went to Walmart, where she bought a few groceries and several disposable burner phones.
Checking her SUV’s digital dash clock, she saw she had just enough time to pick up Kayla at school.
Seventy-Eight
Eternity, Manitoba
Present day
Sitting on the sidewalk, his back against his car, Ben stared at his phone in stunned disbelief.
His stomach hardened and twisted as he raised his focus to Janie Klassyn’s duplex.
Emma...one of The Skull Sisters?
My wife...a convicted murderer?
Shaking his head, he refused to accept what Clinton Parkerfield had just revealed to him.
It’s a mistake. A computer glitch, a typo, an error, duplicate names. It’s not true. It can’t be true.
Standing, staring at his phone, Ben called Tessa Fox to double-check without telling her the reason.
“Hang on, Ben.”
He could hear Tessa’s keyboard clicking through the line.
“Yes, the name is correct: Jane Elizabeth Klassyn became Vanessa Claire Prather.” Tessa spelled out the full name and it matched what Parkerfield had given him. Then she added: “Just before you called I tracked her from Maryland to Indiana where she enrolled in Darmont Hill College. This girl seems to have changed her name more times than the others you gave me. Not sure why. I haven’t confirmed any further name changes yet but I’m working on it. Did something come up? Why did you need me to check again?”
A moment passed.
“Ben? Is something wrong?”
Ben lifted his head to the sky and gulped air before managing: “Thank you, Tessa. Keep me posted.”
Ben lowered his phone, looking at the duplex, pierced by the revelation.
It’s true. Emma changed her name so many times, re-creating herself, shedding her past each time, to hide a monstrous lie.
Who is the woman I married?
A cloud of flies hummed on a breeze, bringing with it the foul smell of the slaughterhouse, sending his thoughts swirling, dropping them on one fact: I’ve got to get back to California.
; Scrolling through his contacts, Ben made a flurry of calls to airlines and travel agents, desperate to get to Los Angeles as soon as possible. It was late in the day. After checking with multiple airlines, he discovered there were no remaining flights departing for Los Angeles today, none that still had seats. He was looking at longer flights to Minneapolis, Denver and Calgary with connections to L.A.
“One moment, sir. We may have found something,” one agent told him. “West Sky Canadian, the new airline, had a cancellation. A seat is available. It leaves later today, departing Winnipeg in five hours arriving about midnight Los Angeles time. It’s direct but the ticket is quite expensive, sir.”
“I don’t care. Book it now. Thanks.”
Ben wasted no time getting back to his motel, checking out, then beginning the long drive to Winnipeg.
His world had been knocked off its axis.
I’m an idiot. I’m a fool.
Taking a deep breath as he drove, he clenched the wheel and his mind went into overload.
Kayla was right all along. I was so blind. How could I have been so stupid? I missed every sign.
The relentless prairie rolled by, empty, eternal and without answers.
He had to craft a strategy. Think. Stay calm. Be rational.
The Emma he knew, the Emma he loved, was a good person. She had a good heart. She was kind to his daughter, loving and devoted to him. She saved a boy’s life.
But why did she hide her past from us?
Ben dragged a hand over his face.
It’s obvious. If she’d told me about her past, would I have married her?
Ben rubbed his face hard—she participated in killing four people, two of them children.
She did her time. She paid for her crime. She left her past behind. But do people really change?
Ben screamed a curse.
Right now he just had to get Kayla away from Emma so he could figure out how to deal with this.
He tried calling Kayla’s phone. No answer.
He dictated and sent a text:
Are you there, honey?
Miles, make that kilometers, went by, with no response. Ben tried again, dictating another text. Nothing. He tried an email. Nothing. Then he tried calling his home phone, the landline. It rang through to voice mail. He didn’t leave a message.
He thought for a moment, then tried calling Emma’s phone. It rang and rang with no answer.
He dictated a text to Emma:
Are you free to talk?
Nothing.
What was going on?
Thinking about Emma, he saw his phone display her older text, sent to him when he was leaving Los Angeles.
I want you to know that whatever happens I love you and Kayla with all my heart.
Ben went numb.
Her message was clear to him now. She knew I was going to find the truth.
* * *
Ben arrived at the airport without having received a single response.
He dropped off the car, checked in and passed through security. In preboarding he continued charging his phone and resumed trying to reach Kayla and Emma without success. His heart hammering, he looked at the other passengers biding their time and envied their boredom. When the gate agents began with boarding calls for his flight, he thought of another possibility.
Calculating the time difference in California, he estimated that Kayla and Emma should’ve finished at school.
As he lined up to board, he scrolled through contacts for Kayla’s friends. He had their numbers as part of the deal when Kayla had gone to parties or concerts.
He found the number for Cheyenne Brady. Hi Cheyenne, it’s Kayla’s dad. Is she with you? Trying to reach her. Can you tell her to call me? Not serious, just need to talk to her. Thanks.
He sent a similar message to Regan Peters.
Staring at his phone as he inched closer to the gate, Ben was getting his passport and boarding pass ready when his phone vibrated.
Hi Mr. Grant. I saw K getting a ride home after school with her stepmom.
Cheyenne ended the text with a smile emoji.
Ben texted his thanks.
His phone vibrated again with another message, this one from Regan:
She got a ride after school with Mrs. G. Trying to reach Kayla too—maybe her phone’s off, or died.
“Boarding pass and ID, sir?”
Ben looked up at the agent, then gave him his passport and pass.
Seventy-Nine
Manitoba and California
Present day
On the plane, Ben connected his phone and charger cable to the outlet at his seat.
Once the jet leveled off, a flight attendant confirmed that access to Wi-Fi was available for purchase on the flight. Ben couldn’t make or receive phone calls but he could send and receive texts and emails. During the flight Ben resumed trying to reach Kayla and Emma.
No responses.
What’s going on with them?
Wishing the jet would go faster, he turned to his window, gazing through the clouds at the patchwork of fields below as the sun neared the horizon. The flight’s duration was over five hours. The woman beside him in the aisle seat with white hair, in her late seventies, was sound asleep.
Ben lowered his tray, opened his laptop and angled it so she couldn’t see. Contending with the knot in his stomach, he began reading his research notes and reviewing all the photos he’d taken in Eternity.
The Tullock home, the cemetery. The unspeakable horror of it all. The homes of The Skull Sisters.
Where my wife was raised.
Everything took on new meaning now. His pulse racing, he reached for his phone. Still nothing.
How could I have been so stupid? So blind. Kayla had locked onto all the signals: Emma’s reluctance to discuss her past. But everything in Emma’s history that I looked at checked out. I didn’t dig deeper because I had no reason to suspect her. But Kayla picked up on something. There was Emma’s aversion to being on TV, her reaction when she learned I was doing a book on the Eternity murders.
On her case.
Kayla said she’d discovered something private that Emma had written about her life. What was it?
Emma has been lying to me all along. I’ve been such a fool.
Ben’s anger rose in his chest. He wanted to punch something. He took a shaky breath and scrolled through his phone.
Again he read Emma’s last message to him:
Whatever happens I love you and Kayla with all my heart.
He went to Kayla’s last series of texts to him when Tug was missing.
Emma found Tug in mom’s spot, like you guessed, but she came home a bloody mess. Says she fell on the trail. She’s acting SO STRANGE! WTF Dad?
Setting his phone down, Ben cursed under his breath, swallowed and dragged both hands over his face.
Ben looked to the clouds, remembering when he first met Emma in Pasadena, signing books at a conference. How she’d told him she loved his work.
“You have a deep understanding for everyone touched by the crime—even the killers.”
Even the killers...even the killers.
He couldn’t believe what was happening. This was a nightmare.
The sun had set and the plane traveled in the twilight.
Examining his situation, Ben was looking at his phone when it vibrated with a message from Cecil May.
Hi Ben. Got an update. Can you talk?
I’m on a flight and can only text. Go ahead.
Del Brockway, your ‘fan,’ has been removed and it appears other investigators are working on the case.
Is it related to one of my books? Am I the target?
No & no. From what I’ve learned, it’s your wife, Emma.
Ben went completely still, before resuming.
Not yet. Working on it. You have any ideas?
Ben’s mind raced with questions and fears.
Could the PIs be working for a news agency? Could they possibly know what I know about her? Given the anniversary of the murders, maybe someone’s trying to track her down—like what I was doing for my book. That would also explain Emma’s behavior.
But Ben kept his thoughts to himself. He replied:
No, no idea. Maybe her rescuing her student is tied to a lawsuit or insurance claim?
Could be, I’ll keep checking.
Ben had another concern and a thought, but he didn’t want to involve police—not yet anyway.
Cecil. This is making me a little uneasy. Can I impose upon you further?
Impose away.
I’m out of town, having trouble reaching my wife and daughter. I’ll be home late. Could you go to my house to check on them and get back to me? Say I asked you because I’m a big worrier. Could you do that?
Sorry, buddy. Out of town myself. I’m in Sacramento for a meeting.
Ben bit his bottom lip then texted: OK no problem.
Why don’t you call Orange County for a welfare check?
No it’s OK. It’s probably a phone glitch. I’ll be home in a few hours. Thanks Cecil. Keep me posted.
Will do, partner.
Setting his phone down, Ben let his head fall back on his headrest and gazed outside into the night.
Who hired private investigators to surveil Emma?
Ben struggled to think, looking head-on to the fact he should stop being an idiot and contact police.
And tell them what? My wife is a convicted murderer from Canada and I can’t locate her or my daughter. The crime was twenty years ago—she’s served her time, done nothing wrong, is a model citizen now, but...but what?
She hid her past from me.
Ben shut his eyes and took a slow deep breath.
Then he took up his phone and stared at a recent picture of Emma, smiling. Happy. Beautiful.
Exhausted, Ben put his phone down and shook his head, gazing outside to lights below.
I’m losing it. No, no police. Emma would never hurt Kayla. I just know it. I need to talk to Emma.
