Obsessed by Darkness

by Autumn Jordon

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind? The dean is in the next office. I’m sure he can help you find some coffee and tea. I take my coffee black. John, you want some?”

  Stauffer shook his head, tracing Emma with his eyes from foot to head. “I’m good.”

  She drew in a breath to settle her stomach’s fluttering and concentrated on the man’s partner.

  Johnson held up two fingers. “Just one tea and one coffee.”

  “Yes, sir,” Riggs answered.

  “There’s a kitchenette down the hall,” Frank offered. “I’ll show you the way.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen.” Johnson pinched his trouser legs between his fingers as he took a seat.

  Frank shot her another supportive smile before following Riggs out the door.

  For some reason, as the lock clinked into place, she wished Frank had stayed.

  Bathing in the sunlight that streamed through the office window, she noted Johnson’s dark hair had a tinge of red to it.

  “First, we appreciate your cooperation,” he said, causing her to shift her focus to his words. “I know you spoke to Officer Banko, but would you mind telling us again what happened? How you came upon the scene? Be as specific as possible because what might not seem important to you could be very valuable in solving this case.”

  Sadness veiled her heart. Denise had become a case. No one should end up as a case, but the sad fact remained, some did.

  Emma inhaled and settled back against the sofa cushion. She had reiterated her morning in her mind at least a dozen times while she’d waited for them to arrive. Nothing new had come to her.

  Lacing her fingers together, she pressed her thumb against the skin covering her wrist and found her pulse. Mentally she reminded herself to remain calm and to take her time as she retold the details of her morning. She didn’t want to neglect anything which might help the officers learn who or what had caused Denise’s death.

  “You saw no one at all during your run?” Stauffer asked over Johnson’s shoulder when she’d finished.

  She nodded. “No. I focused on my footing while navigating the gravel path leading from the stables to the crest of the hill, so I can’t say if there was anyone in the area. That would be unlikely, however, unless they were using the path too.”

  “Why?” The detective sitting in front of her asked.

  “It’s dense woodland on both sides. Not an easy place to maneuver. Generally, the path is used for trail riding, hiking and mountain biking.”

  “Dangerous area to run,” Stauffer observed.

  “I always considered the campus safe, until now.” She swallowed hard. “Naïve of me.” She looked back to Detective Johnson. “Did she kill herself?” The words tasted sour on her tongue. “Or was she murdered?”

  “We can’t say at this point in the investigation.”

  Emma dropped her gaze to the floor. Her forlorn expression was reflected in the shine of his shoe. She recalled the deserted path. The only sounds she’d been aware of were the swish of her clothing, her feet hitting the ground and her lungs working hard. Then she remembered the shadows she’d seen lurking in her peripheral vision and an icy shiver ran up her spine.

  Her head snapped up and she latched onto the cop’s gaze. “Was she…?”

  “Raped?”

  Emma nodded, glad to be understood without saying the word aloud.

  “A rape kit will be used, but it doesn’t appear she was sexually assaulted,” Johnson replied with compassion.

  A knock on the door compelled the older detective to rise. He retrieved the two mugs from Riggs and thanked him as the door closed again.

  Emma had caught Riggs’ curious hard stare before the door closed in his face. He didn’t like being on the outside.

  “Did you consider Ms. Davidson a friend?” Johnson handed her the cup containing tea.

  She cradled the mug between her palms, letting its warmth seep into her skin. Until then, she hadn’t realized how cold she felt. “Yes. I guess. We didn’t socialize in the same circles, but we both shared the same academic interest.”

  “Did you consider her an academic rival?” Stauffer’s question and steely stare were meant to shake her up. She figured he played the bad cop to Johnson’s good cop.

  “No. Why would I?”

  “We understand she was very bright and had recently accepted a part-time position with the same pharmaceutical company you’re seeking employment with.”

  The two detectives had learned a lot about her and Denise in a short time, which caused her pulse to spike. Why were they so interested in her life? She squared her shoulders and began.

  “P&J. I’ve been hired by P&J. I’ll start my internship with them upon my graduation, in December. I recommended Denise to Mr. Younger, the interviewer who recruited me. They’re starting a new progressive hiring program in which they recruit students early in their education if they show employment potential. P&J’s management team believes if they bring students into their facilities and provide them with part-time jobs, working around the student’s classes, those students will remain loyal and continue working for them after they graduate.”

  “I see.” Stauffer’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t hired early.”

  “Actually, I’m the first. I’ve worked for P&J part time over the past year.”

  “Do you know if Denise was close to anyone here at the school?” Johnson took his turn asking questions. “A boyfriend?”

  The older man leaned back on the chair, crossed his legs and drank from his mug. His calm tone made her feel more at ease and willing to be open even while Stauffer’s rapid, no-nonsense firing of questions put her on guard.

  “I think she was seeing someone.” Emma took a sip of her tea and licked the moisture across her dry lips. “At least, she met him after lab class and study group a few times. I don’t know his name. Maybe one of her closer friends can help you.”

  “Do you know the names of her close friends?”

  “Tara Beck.” Trying to remember who she’d seen with Denise, she raised her eyes to the ceiling. “And Jean Willow. I think those are two of her friends. Tara was also in our study group last year. I’m sure of her name, but Jean… I heard Denise call her Jean, but I might be wrong about her last name. Tara would know. Or maybe her roommate would. I don’t know who she rooms with… I mean who she roomed with, but all undergrads have one or more roommates to share expenses and space.”

  This wasn’t right? Denise had been too young and had so much to live for. Emma felt sad using the past tense when referencing Denise.

  Stauffer tapped his pad. “When was the last time you saw Denise?”

  “Last night. After I left the chemistry lab. I saw her walking through the common courtyard outside The Lair. She was with several friends.”

  “The Lair?”

  “It’s a social-restaurant area in the student housing complex.”

  “Was her boyfriend with her?”

  “I doubt if the guy she was seeing was her boyfriend, but no. He wasn’t with her. There were three other women. Tara was one. And another man. The guy… He held the hand of one of the other woman, so I assumed they were a couple.”

  “What time was that?” Stauffer asked.

  “About 7:30.”

  The officer’s pen lifted from the pad and his head popped up. “You were in the chemistry lab on a Saturday night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t the buildings secured during after class hours?”

  “I have a key.”

  Stauffer’s right brow cocked. “Why?”

  “I’m a TA, teacher’s assistant, for Professor Langson. I’m standing in for him this week since he had a family emergency. He learned of his mother’s injury yesterday morning and called me immediately. Last night I was in the lab working on my thesis since my free time will be limited this week.”

  “I see.” Stauffer again scribbled on his pad.

  “I think I’ve told you all I know
. Can I go? I really need to review the professor’s class plan and prepare for tomorrow.”

  “Just a one more question,” Johnson assured her. “Can you think of anyone who might’ve wanted Ms. Davidson dead?”

  “No.” The question took her by surprise and widened her eyes. “Denise was very nice. Always smiling.”

  Even in death, Denise smiled.

  “OK. I think we’ve asked all the questions we have at the moment.” The older man stood and placed his mug on the side table. He took her cup also, setting it aside, and then dug a card out of his breast pocket and handed to her. “If you think of anything else, please give me a call. Remember don’t brush off anything as irrelevant.”

  “It’s the little details,” she said, totally understanding.

  “Exactly.”

  She rose and with his hand at her elbow crossed the carpet only to stop midway. “Wait. I forgot.”

  “What?”

  She fished the mint box out of her pocket. “The reason I found Denise was this.” I saw it lying on the path and I bent over to pick it up. I had meant to throw it in the trash container near the bridge. That’s when I saw blue jays feeding on berries. I stopped to watch them.”

  Detective Johnson pulled a white linen kerchief from his pants pocket. He examined the plastic container lying in her palm, before gingerly picking it up by the edges.

  “Very good, Ms. Lewis.” The crow’s feet creasing his left eye lengthened when he smiled. “It could mean nothing and then again it could help break the case.”

  An eerie feeling made Emma’s fingers tingle, as she considered the possibility of a killer handling that container before her. She pushed the feeling aside, knowing she’d jumped to unfounded conclusions again.

  As she gripped the door’s curved handle, Stauffer spoke. “You’re not planning on taking any trips home are you?”

  She faced his suspicious gaze. “No.” Her ponytail brushed the nape of her neck as she shook her head.

  “Good. We might have more questions for you later.”

  “If you do, I’ll likely be in one of three places: the study area of the library, the chemistry building or my apartment. Or call my cell.” After giving him her number, Emma leveled her shoulders, opened the door, and walked out carrying the unsettling feeling she would see the detectives again.

  ***

  At the bottom of the administrative building’s steps, Emma drew up short, coming toe to toe with her roommate, Nanette Yves. Nan’s chest rose and fell in short bursts, a tell-tale sign her friend had sprinted to the building. Her tawny forehead furrowed with worry and tiny lines flanked her cat-shaped eyes.

  “Oh, my God. I found you. I’ve been going nuts worrying about you.” Nan’s distress accentuated her French enunciation. “Carol woke me up and told me she’d seen the police take you away, but no one knew where you’d been taken. It took me an hour to find a cop who could tell me anything. Are you OK?”

  Emma saw her own mélange of wretched emotions reflected in Nan’s amber irises. The streaks of orange and yellow in Nan’s long brown hair caught the late morning sunlight as she swept strands of it away from her face.

  “Are you OK?” Nan asked again. “You look completely drained.”

  Emma shook her head as Nan threw her arms around her and gave her a bear hug.

  “Finding that girl had to be awful.”

  “Yes.” Finding Denise dead had been horrible. Emma’s scalp tingled as Nan ran a comforting hand over her ponytail. She closed her mind to the mental image of Denise’s broken body and breathed in Nanette’s lavender scent, letting most of her anguish drain from her tight muscles into her friend’s embrace.

  She sighed.

  Nan pulled back but still anchored her with a strong grip. Her friend’s wide gaze danced across her face. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

  “I’m hotter than the last flat cake on a griddle.” Emma attempted a smile, but failed miserably because her molars were busy grinding against each other.

  “Why’s that?”

  “The officers… Well, the one officer who questioned me made feel like he thought I had something to do with Denise’s death. Told me not to leave town.” The words were like vinegar on her tongue.

  “The man’s insane. You can’t swat a horsefly off a horse’s ass for fear of killing the pest.” Nan looped her arm through Emma’s and propelled her toward the parking lot. “I brought your car.” She cursed in French and then repeated her words in English. “Of all the F’n mornings to sleep in.”

  “You always sleep in on Sundays.” Emma smiled and immediately felt awful for badgering her friend.

  “Yeah.” Nanette posted a full-blown grin, assuring her they were good. “Well, Saturday nights are the best night of the week to let loose. You have all the next day to recover.”

  “Unless you have to go to work,” Emma clipped back.

  “Right. Which we don’t.” Nan bumped elbows with Emma and then threaded her arm through hers. They walked in silence for a minute. “So, they think someone murdered Denise?”

  “Not necessarily. They didn’t offer a scenario at all.”

  “They didn’t hint at anything? Drugs? Suicide?”

  She frowned at her friend. “Denise wouldn’t kill herself.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know her.” Nan batted her lashes once then stared, signaling she had another question.

  “How about rape?”

  “They did say there were no clear signs of rape—so no.”

  “That’s good.” Nan gave Emma’s hand a squeeze. “Security is going to be tight around here.”

  “Good. Right now I don’t feel very safe.”

  “You, along with every other female on campus.”

  Leaves rustled under their feet as they crossed a small area of lawn in silence. Above them a jet plane carried its passengers on to new adventures and in the distance the cheers from soccer fans rose and fell. The world continued to spin.

  When they reached Emma’s car, Nanette, without being asked, took the driver’s seat. Once they were settled in, Nan asked, “Do you feel like talking about it?”

  “No. Not really.” Emma rested her head against the seat’s headrest.

  The breeze flowing through the open window on this surprisingly warm day made the car’s interior comfortable. She leaned against the door, turned her face up and closed her eyes against the sun’s rays. She wanted to feel serene. She wanted to breathe in every autumn scent. She wanted to capture the memory of every sound. She needed to hold on to all of it. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

  “We’re not. You don’t need to be bombarded by a gazillion questions. I’m taking you out to Mark’s parents’ vacation home. I already checked with him and it’s cool. We’ll spend the afternoon in the sun, doing whatever you feel like. We’ll stop at the grocery and pick up a few burgers, Portobello mushrooms and veggies. I’ll cook dinner on the grill. Then tonight we’ll see how you feel and if you want to go back to the apartment, we will. Mark said we have the use of the place for as long as we want.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “I ask myself the same question all the time.” Nanette wound a comforting arm over Emma’s shoulders and coaxed her closer. Her friend knew she needed someone to talk to. She needed to feel safe.

  “Why did it happen?” A tear slipped down her cheek and moistened Nan’s jacket.

  “I don’t know.” Nan smoothed her hair. “Shhh. I honestly don’t know.”

  Emma cried, not for herself, but for the woman who had lost her life.

  Chapter Three

  “C.U.F.F., we have a situation.”

  Mike Adams, head of the U.S. Marshals in the North East Pennsylvania District, commanded attention just by walking into a room. An unassailable leader in his own right, Will Haus, the C.U.F.F. team’s tactical leader, followed on Mike’s heels.

  Chase Hunter and the other four remaining C.U.F.F. members fell silent over their cups of early morni
ng Joe and a box of doughnuts Jolene had picked up at a Scranton bakery. Immediately the team circled the oval table hosting the emblem of the U.S. Marshals embedded dead center, and took their seats. Legal pads and pencils were provided, creating a work setting for each.

  As if on cue, behind Chase, the blinds covering the large-paned windows drew closed, cutting off the sunlight cascading in from the crisp morning outside.

  “Let’s hustle, team,” Will ordered in a tone that stated they were headed for a briefing on a priority mission.

  Chase settled into his customary seat, flanked on his left by Aden Nash and on his right by Jolene Martinez. The three of them were the youngest members of the C.U.F.F. team—in age and experience. Anchoring the other side of the table, veterans Gary Wayne and Rod Strider settled in, leaving a space open for Will at the head of the table, on Gary’s right. All three men were part of the original elite undercover force started by the Marshals nearly a decade before. And from what Chase had heard through the grapevine, all had been part of a U.S. Army Special Ops Force—SOF—recruited by the U.S. Marshals to go undercover and bring down one of the most dangerous drug-trafficking ring in U.S. history. Their bust had made headlines for weeks.

  Chase remembered hearing something about it when he had been a snot-nosed kid of seventeen. He’d been too horny at the time, chasing after Julie Sandson, to really pay attention to anything going on in the world.

  A throat cleared and all heads turned to Gary.

  “We’ve been asked for help.” Adams placed his laptop and a small stack of manila folders at the head of the table. He unbuttoned his tailored suit jacket and adjusted his belt buckle before he nodded to Will who obliged by dimming the lights.

  Chase caught Will’s covert glance in his direction as the room darkened. The flash in his boss’s eyes said he’d better listen close to whatever the hell Adams had to share. In Chase’s sixteen months of tenure with the team, he’d yet to be the one to go undercover and lead an investigation. He knew his time was coming and he dreaded the idea. Knew he wasn’t ready. He’d fucked-up once and others had paid for his mistake.