by Karen Fenech
At the office, Sam received an update that Emerson’s car was parked in the driveway. The agent, Traynor, had been instructed to watch the place but not to approach until Sam got there. Sam caught a ride with another agent, Monroe. Monroe parked behind the government-issue sedan surveying the Emerson house.
Sam and Monroe left the vehicle. Traynor left his vehicle as well, and Monroe made the introductions.
“Appreciate the help,” Sam said. As Sam shook Traynor’s hand, he asked, “Any movement?”
“Negative. The car’s in the same spot since I got here. No one’s been in or out of the house.”
It was a Thursday afternoon. Was it typical of Emerson not to go into work on Thursdays? Sam faced Traynor. “Any sign of Emerson moving around in there?”
Traynor gave a quick headshake, then smoothed down his thick mustache. “Whatever she’s doing in there, she’s doing it quietly, and with those thick curtains on all the windows, it’s impossible to see inside.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Let’s go talk with her.”
Sam squinted in the bright sunlight. He waited for a car to drive by, then crossed the street to Mary Emerson’s tidy bungalow. He hoped that the person who would answer his knock would be Thames himself. Sam had nothing to bring Thames in, but having learned how Thames tormented Paige, it would take all he had in him to keep from killing that son of a bitch on sight.
The other two agents joined Sam at the front door. He rang the doorbell and followed up with a hard knock before the chime ended.
Nothing. Sam knocked again, then leaned on the doorbell button. He wasn’t going to leave without speaking with Emerson.
A house key peeked from beneath a welcome mat. There was a small window in the door. Like every other window Sam could see, this one was covered with a thick curtain. Sam couldn’t see shit through the impenetrable fabric but, knowing that a person in jeopardy was cause to enter a house, said, “I think I see someone lying on the hall floor. I’m going in.”
The other agents didn’t comment. Sam expected they would wait outside, given his excuse for going in, but they backed him up. Sam used the key, then drew his weapon. There was no one lying on the pristine tile in the hall.
Sam called out, “Ms. Emerson. Federal agents!”
The house was as neat inside as it was out. Mary Emerson was fond of embroidery, and the walls were decorated with framed works of flowers and birds. As Sam led the way deeper into the house, he glimpsed an old-fashioned answering machine on a small table. The number on the screen showed zero messages.
Sam turned a corner and came to the kitchen. A cat lay blinking on its side next to a water bowl and an empty food bowl. The water bowl held about an inch of water. It looked like the animal hadn’t been fed in some time. Sam’s senses went on high alert.
“Think she just took off and left the cat?” Traynor asked.
Sam’s shoulders tensed. “No. I’m going to take a look around.” Sam wondered if he was going to find Mary Emerson dead somewhere inside her house.
Mary wasn’t in the house, but the search showed clothing on every hanger in the closet. She wasn’t away on a trip.
Back in the hall, Monroe said, “Look at this.”
Sam turned. The man was pointing to a woman’s handbag on the floor in the hall closet. Monroe bent down, then opened the purse. A wallet was inside.
“I don’t know about you two,” Monroe said, “but I’ve been married fifteen years, and I’ve never seen my wife leave the house without her purse.”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Though they hadn’t found a body here, Sam had a bad feeling about Mary Emerson.
Back in the kitchen, Sam bent over the cat. The animal was lethargic but licked Sam’s wrist. Monroe found food in the cupboard and poured fresh water in one bowl. The animal fell on the food and water with gusto.
As Sam watched the cat eat and drink, he said, “Mary Emerson has a sister. I need to talk with her.”
“Sure thing,” Monroe said.
Traynor left to return to his office. After the cat finished its meal, Sam scooped up the feline. Monroe locked the front door, and they were on their way.
Emerson’s sister didn’t live far from Emerson. Monroe waited in the car while Sam went to the front door of a small two-story house. A wind chime dangled from the unlit porch light and tinkled softly in the light breeze.
A woman dressed in athletic shorts and a T-shirt that was stained with perspiration answered his knock. Her face and hairline glistened with sweat. She was panting slightly. It was clear she’d been exercising.
Sam showed his ID. “I’m Agent Sam McKade with the FBI. I’m looking for Carol Franks.”
The woman wiped the back of her hand against her glistening upper lip. “I’m Carol.”
“Mrs. Franks. I’d like to speak with you. May I come in?”
The woman looked from Sam’s badge to the cat tucked under Sam’s arm. “Sir Lancelot?” She looked up at Sam. “What are you doing with him?”
Mrs. Franks reached out, and Sam released the cat to her. “I’ll explain. May I come in?”
The woman nodded and stepped back from the door. She ushered Sam into a living room painted a sunny yellow, then perched on the end of a multicolored couch.
Sam took the matching chair opposite the couch. “I’m looking for your sister. Is she here?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“I just came from your sister’s house. It appeared that Sir Lancelot had been on his own for some time there, judging from his empty food bowl.”
Mrs. Franks shook her head, and her dark-brown hair coiled into a bun bounced. “That can’t be right. My sister loves Sir Lancelot. She would never neglect him.”
“When was the last time you spoke with your sister?”
Mrs. Franks set the cat on the floor. “It’s been a week.”
“Is there anyone she could be staying with, any friends she may have gone to visit?”
But Mrs. Franks was already shaking her head. “No one. Mary doesn’t have anyone she’s that close to.”
“What do you know of her relationship with Todd Thames?”
Mrs. Franks’s face blanched. “Do you think he’s done something to her?”
Sam gave her the truth. “I’m hoping you can help me find out.”
Mrs. Franks sagged on the sofa as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Oh, no, no, no. I’ll tell you anything I can to find my sister. I told her to stay away from him, but she wouldn’t. She insisted that he had been wronged.” Mrs. Franks put both hands to her now chalk-white cheeks. “She said he made her feel special.” The woman shook her head. “My sister never had that, never had a man dote on her the way she said Todd did.”
Sam’s lips firmed. “Did she tell you anything about their relationship?”
“She wasn’t supposed to. Todd wanted her to keep things between them under wraps. She told me he didn’t want her to be touched by the negative publicity that surrounded him. That Todd was protecting her.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. Yeah, that’s exactly what Thames was doing. “Did you believe that?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to, but I didn’t like anything about the situation. Mary was in love. For the first time in her life, she was happy. I want her to be happy. I hoped that she was right about Todd.”
“Mrs. Franks, we need to find your sister. She may be in danger. I need to know all you know.”
Her face crumpled. “Mary was desperate to please him. My sister wanted to be his champion, his savior, and she contacted human rights activists to band together and take up Todd’s cause. Todd told Mary that he didn’t have any family of his own and said that he wanted a family one day, a wife, kids, the whole deal. Mary wanted that for herself as well. She said that Todd had been wrongfully convicted and his lawyer was working to have the conviction against him overturned, and when it was, they’d be together.” She swallowed and began to run her hand across an orange cushion i
n a vigorous motion. “Mary went to the prison to visit him as often as the prison allowed, but she didn’t always get in. There were two other women who scheduled visits. Younger women Mary felt were more attractive than she was. Mary was afraid that Todd would lose interest in her and choose one of them.” Mrs. Franks let out a shaky breath. “Todd asked her about her family. She showed him photographs of me, my husband, and our three kids. I didn’t like it, but he was in prison, on death row, so I didn’t see the harm. She told Todd stories about my kids and other things, including what my husband and I do for a living. My husband is a car salesman. I work for the IRS.”
Sam leaned forward. “When did she tell him this?”
“I don’t remember exactly, but it was last year.”
“Who has access to your IRS log-in information, Mrs. Franks?”
“No one.” She shook her head back and forth. “I mean, I keep a list of my passwords in the desk in our den. We have so many nowadays, I can never remember them all.”
Sam eyed Mrs. Franks. “Does your sister know about that list?”
Mrs. Franks nodded. “Mary does the same thing.”
Sam had no warrant, but he forged ahead anyway. “I need you to call up your search history from the past year, eliminate the searches in your log, and tell me the names that remain.”
Sam held her gaze. Mrs. Franks left the room briefly and returned with her laptop. A silence ensued. Sam sat as tense as Mrs. Franks.
Some time later, the woman looked up from her laptop. “Searches on two names that I didn’t conduct.”
“What are the names?” Sam asked.
“Paige Carson.”
Sam’s fist clenched. Son of a bitch. That was how Thames was tracking Paige. “And the second one?” Sam was afraid he already knew.
“Janet Glaxton Lambert.”
There it was. Thames had Lambert on his radar as well. Sam noted the dates of the searches as well. None of this information would nail Thames. The searches would appear under Mrs. Franks’s password. There was nothing to tie Thames to them.
Mrs. Franks put her head in her hands. “I haven’t talked to Mary in a week. He could have done anything to her.”
Thames had gotten what he wanted from Mary Emerson. Sam believed Thames was cleaning house and that he had eliminated Emerson, a loose end, so she would not be found alive.
Mrs. Franks brought the cushion she’d been rubbing to her face and began to weep into it. The front door opened. A man dressed in khaki slacks and a navy blazer entered.
The man looked to Mrs. Franks and then to Sam. “What the hell is going on here?”
Sam rose to his feet. He showed the man his ID as Mrs. Franks cried out, “Bill, something may have happened to Mary!”
Sam left Mrs. Franks sobbing in her husband’s arms.
Outside on the Franks’s front stoop, Sam blew out a frustrated and angry breath. Where the hell was Thames now?
Clouds had rolled in, and the sun had gone down while Sam was with Mrs. Franks. Monroe was still parked across from the Franks’s house, beneath a now-lit streetlight. Sam got in the car.
“Where to?” Monroe asked.
“Airport. I need to get home.”
Sam needed to check on Thames’s whereabouts. He needed to call Paige. He took out his cell phone, but Monroe went into a tunnel and Sam didn’t get a signal.
The airport was close to the Franks’s house and they arrived there quickly. Monroe pulled up to the curb.
On the sidewalk, Sam reached back inside the car and shook hands with Monroe. Sam uttered a hasty, “If you’re ever out my way, I’d be happy to return the favor.”
Monroe nodded. “Have a good flight.”
The next plane for Columbia was leaving in minutes. Sam’s office had closed a few hours ago. While Sam booked the flight, he called Marian at home.
Marian answered in her usual sharp tone. “Hello?”
“Marian, it’s Sam. I need a check on Todd Thames. I need to know if Thames has left New York State since he was released from prison.” Sam supplied Marian with Thames’s release date. “I need this information as soon as possible.”
“I’ll get right on it and call you back.”
Sam heard his flight being called and continued his conversation on the move. “I’m about to board the return flight. Leave me a message when you have the information.”
Marian said she would, and Sam ended the call. He didn’t hold out much hope that Thames had left a trail, and Sam didn’t have any legal grounds to start a nationwide search for the man. If Thames stayed true to form, they wouldn’t find Thames until he chose to reveal himself.
And Thames knew where Paige was. Sam’s pulse kicked up. He called Paige. Voicemail.
The gate was closing. Sam didn’t have time to leave a message she might not check until he was back in Kirk. She needed to know about Thames right away. Sam called Harry.
“Sam? You back from Connecticut?” Harry asked.
“I’m about to get on the plane. Harry, I need you to get in touch with Paige. I need you to go over to her place.” Sam quickly told Harry about Thames. “Thames knows Paige is in Kirk.”
“I’ll leave right now,” Harry said.
Sam ran onto the plane. His gut churned. Thames could be on his way to Paige, and Sam was too far away to do anything about it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sam had called Paige when his flight landed in Connecticut, but that was hours ago. She checked her phone and saw she’d missed a call from him. She called back but got Sam’s voicemail. If he was on his way back, his phone would be off while he was in the air. She didn’t bother with a message. He wouldn’t get it until he landed.
She was too wound up to sleep. Maybe a hot bath would help. She checked on Ivy. She was asleep, her earbuds on. Paige thought about removing them, but Ivy looked to be enjoying a sound sleep, and Paige didn’t want to risk waking her.
She put the stopper in the bottom of the tub, then got the water running. She undressed, setting her phone and her weapon on the small faux marble counter. Though Paige had made efforts to conceal it, lately Ivy had noticed that Paige had taken to wearing her Glock in the apartment and had asked Paige about it. Paige told her sister she hadn’t found a suitable place to store it in the apartment yet. Another lie on top of so many.
She finished filling the tub. Water sloshed as she stepped inside. She settled back against the rim and closed her eyes, trying to will her tense muscles to ease. Her body remained stiff, and her mind continued to race. Had Sam spoken with Mary Emerson? Had she been able to provide anything they could use against Thames?
And what of Janet Lambert? They were no closer to finding her murderer. Lambert’s brother was vocal in wanting his sister’s killer found. Paige understood that need for vindication, for closure. She and Sam had worked the case hard, along with Harry and Dom, and were no closer than they had been on the day Janet Lambert had been killed. Thames’s name appeared in Paige’s mind. Paige shifted in the water.
What was that? She heard something . . . She went still. Had she heard something, or was it just the water striking the side of the tub with her restless movement?
Ivy? But Paige didn’t hear the motor on the chair. Her senses heightened. There wasn’t any chance that she’d be able to relax in the tub. She needed to check the apartment.
Her phone was next to the tub. She wouldn’t make a call and risk alerting an intruder that she was on to them. They might go after Ivy. Goose bumps sprang on Paige’s wet flesh. She had to protect Ivy. Text messages to 911 from the general public didn’t go through, but a message from a cop would. She got out of the tub and sent a text.
Her bathrobe was on a hook on the door. Paige slid it on without bothering to towel off and retrieved her gun.
There was no other way. She was going to have to open the bathroom door and expose herself. She turned off the overhead light. Flattening herself against the wall as much as possible, she turned the knob and slowly op
ened the door.
The apartment was dark. She squinted to adjust to the lack of light after the brightness of the bathroom. Nothing. She couldn’t make out a shape . . . but she heard . . . something.
Pulse now racing, Paige stepped beyond the threshold. In her peripheral vision, she saw something dark separate itself from the wall adjacent to the bathroom. Before she could swing her gun around, she was struck on the arm and then on the back of the neck.
Paige dropped the gun. It skittered across the wood floor, too far for her to reach it. In the gloom, she made out a man wearing a stocking mask. He loomed above her, his fingers wound around the handle of a baseball bat. Thames—but no, a stocking wouldn’t stop her from recognizing Thames. Besides, this man was a head taller than Thames and had arms that looked as thick as logs.
As the man was about to bring that bat down on her, she rolled out from under him and struck out with her leg, catching the man hard in the midsection. With a howl of pain, he fell back against the wall. A couple of Ivy’s sketches hit the ground. The man went down on his knees. She followed that kick with a solid jab to the groin. Her attacker howled, then fell face first onto the floor.
She scrambled away from him and dove for the gun. Her fingertips brushed the grip, but the man was on her before she could reach it. Panting and groaning, he yanked her up by her hair, flung her back to the ground, then kicked her in the ribs.
Her vision blurred with pain, but again she thought of Ivy. Paige had to subdue him. She couldn’t let him get by her and reach Ivy.
Paige kicked out and swept the man’s legs out from under him. He struck the TV, knocking it from the stand onto the floor, and landed on his back. Then Paige was on him. She clapped his ears, then struck his nose with the heel of her hand. His blood pooled beneath the stocking, and the man howled in pain. She brought her elbow down on his throat. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went still.
Breathing hard, Paige removed the stocking and thumbed his eyelids. He was out. Ignoring the pain in her side, she sprang off him and snatched up her gun. She got her handcuffs from the upper shelf in the hall closet and cuffed the man, then hurried to Ivy’s room. Ivy’s bedroom door was closed. Paige opened it in a rush. Ivy was still asleep. Unharmed. Relief weakened Paige’s legs, and for an instant she needed the support of the wall to keep her on her feet.
