Abandoned

by Rhonda Pollero

  “Please tell me your father kicked the kid’s ass.”

  “My father died when I was eleven.” It was the first time she’d ever said that to anyone. It was oddly freeing. And one small chunk of her real past was revealed. It was a start.

  Conner took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Emma reclaimed her hand. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “True, but that still doesn’t deter my interest.”

  “If I remember correctly, we first caught sight of each other in a bar where you instigated a fight and I threatened you with my gun.”

  He smiled broadly. “And what’s not to love about that?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Emma had insisted Jeanine go to bed over an hour ago. Guilt had the woman hovering, which made Emma feel more anxious. The only thing that kept her sane was knowing that Amelia had gotten into a car willingly, so maybe there was some harmless explanation for her disappearance.

  It was nearly midnight when her restlessness had her jogging out to the mailbox to collect her mail. She figured so long as she stayed busy, the better. She also played it safe, tucking her twenty-two into the waistband of her jeans before heading outside.

  Thanks to the newly installed, motion detector lighting Willis had installed, her entire path was illuminated. But when she got to the box, she reached into its dark interior and immediately touched wet something. Yanking her hand back, she stared down at the red smear on her palm and swallowed her fear. Cautiously, she took her cell phone out of her pocket and used the flashlight app to light the interior of the mailbox. Lying atop a small stack of mail was another blood-dipped flower.

  “Whoever you are,” Emma projected her voice as she would do in the courtroom, “You’re a fucking, miserable coward! Show yourself. Tell me to my face what the hell your problem is. If this is supposed to be a message, I don’t understand it. Too subtle for me, pal. I’m not going to waste my time trying to figure it out. Might as well use your damned words and tell me straight out.”

  She was met with silence. “Dickhead.” Carefully, Emma took everything out of the box and glanced around nervously before jogging back to the house. The minute she was inside she pressed the buttons on the alarm’s keypad to arm the house. However, in her frazzled state she ended up making a mistake, and suddenly every light in the house came on and a loud alarm blared. Emma got a grip on herself and was able to hit the kill code just as her landline rang.

  “Hello?” she said into the receiver. The echo of the alarm was still reverberating in her head.

  “This is Travis at the com center. We’re showing an active alarm at your home.”

  “It was me,” Emma told him.

  “I’ll need your code word, Ms. McKinley.”

  “Harvard.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  As she was replacing the receiver on the cradle, Jeanine and David came down the stairs. Jeanine was wearing a faded terrycloth robe and David was wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt.

  “What happened?” Jeanine asked. Then seeing Emma’s hand, she added, “Are you hurt?”

  Emma shook her head. “It’s just paint,” she said, having learned as much from the two previous encounters with the ‘bloody’ flower delivery guy. “Conner got the results on the other two today.”

  Going to the sink, she washed her hands and listened as her breathing returned to normal. Her rapid heartbeat was another matter. “I accidentally set off the alarm. Sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you two.”

  Jeanine was looking at the flower. “What kind of person would do this to a chrysanthemum?”

  “The same one who did it to a tulip and a lily on the porch for me to find,” she answered.

  “Always with the blood effect but the flower is different?” David asked.

  Emma nodded. “But that’s a dead end. I called a nursery and all these flowers are readily available this time of year. Sold in most grocery stores, in fact.”

  “Maybe you should call the sheriff,” Jeanine suggested.

  Emma shook her head. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. I’m really sorry I disturbed everyone. Please go back to bed.”

  “Can I make you some tea?” Jeanine offered.

  Emma smiled. “Thank you, but no. Please go back to sleep.”

  It took some insistence on her part, but Jeanine and David finally ended up returning to their rooms. Emma turned off the lights downstairs and followed them up five minutes later. Just because she could, she tried her sister’s cell again. Again, it went to voicemail.

  She glanced at her bedside clock: one a.m. She was far too keyed up to sleep so she got out of bed and returned to the kitchen. There, she made herself a mug of decaf coffee. Then she went to her office and opened the large file folder Conner had given her earlier in the evening.

  Since he was presumably busy tracking down her sister’s cell records, she might as well return the favor and read the life and times of his divorce and custody battle.

  “Nice,” she muttered as she read the initial pleadings. The former Mrs. Kavanaugh and her attorney had thrown every possible accusation his way, save for child abuse. They did allege abandonment since Conner’s job took him away at any and all times of the day and night.

  They glossed over the affair she’d been having with her boss and for some reason the presiding family court judge had sided with Conner’s wife.

  She sipped her fake coffee as she read through the custody saga. The ex had even filed to restrict visitation because Conner took Sam with him to the prison to visit her uncle the murderer. Through the attached affidavits Emma learned more about Michael Kavanaugh’s crime and conviction, and his subsequent exemplary life inside prison.

  Grabbing a legal pad, she made several notes as she went along. As far as she could tell, Conner had a pretty good case for material change in circumstances. He was now the sheriff, so he had more control over his schedule, and his right to see his daughter was severely restricted by his ex’s move to Chicago. There was only one unknown in the equation. Samantha. Because she was sixteen, the judge would take her testimony in camera and her desires would be paramount to the outcome. If Samantha didn’t want to spend more time with her father, then Conner would be screwed. However, from what Emma had seen Sam adored her father, and she didn’t doubt for a second that the girl would be outspoken about that if and when asked.

  Her cell chirped and she grabbed it in a nanosecond. “Amelia?”

  “Sorry,” Conner said. “Did I wake you?”

  Dawn was just breaking on the horizon, spilling weak light into the room. “God, no. I was just finishing up your divorce file.”

  “I told you not to bother with that until we find Amelia.”

  “Did you get the subpoena for her cellphone?”

  “Not yet. Apparently, I have to wait for someone from the cell carrier’s legal compliance division to get into the office at eight this morning.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and sighed. “That’s stupid.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m doing a pretty good job at lying to myself. Ya know, concentrating on the fact that she went willingly.”

  “That’s good.”

  “But in reality, she went willingly into a car with stolen plates, so that worries me. Oh,” she began as she set aside her pen, “I had another special delivery tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Another flower dipped in red paint.”

  Conner let out an expletive. “I don’t suppose your video system covers the mailbox?”

  “No. It’s too far away from the cameras mounted on the house.”

  “Do you need me to come over?” he asked.

  Yes. Selfish. But it would be wonderful to be cradled in his arms. It dawned on her that Conner made her feel safe. She had never had that feeling before and it was exhilarating and scary. “No, I’m fine,” she fibbed.

  “Well, I’ve bee
n thinking.”

  “About?” she asked.

  “Could this be a ransom situation?”

  Emma ran her fingers through her hair. “No one has made contact.”

  “Yet. I have to ask. How well off are you?”

  “I got a twenty-million-dollar settlement.”

  He whistled. “Who knows about that?”

  “The case was settled and the records sealed.”

  “But you’ve been spending money in Purdue like you had a tree made out of it in your backyard. Maybe someone noticed.”

  “Maybe,” she muttered as she pondered the thought. “But if that’s the case, why haven’t I been contacted?”

  “I didn’t say this was a job cooked up by a genius. Just throwing it out as a possibility.”

  “So, should I put up flyers or something?”

  “Not yet,” Conner cautioned. “You don’t want to do anything to antagonize her captors. Assuming this is a kidnapping. Which seems to fit the evidence we have so far. It would explain the use of a lure and the precaution of changing out the license plate.”

  “I’ll pay anything to get her back,” Emma said.

  “Purdue has its share of criminals, but I can’t think of anyone around here smart enough to pull this off. So, could this be someone from your past? Maybe someone you represented?”

  “I doubt it,” she answered. “I left New York quickly and quietly and no one can connect me to Purdue. Except…”

  “Except?”

  Emma hesitated. “Can we save this conversation for later this morning?”

  “Time is a commodity here, Emma. If there’s something I should know, tell me now.”

  “It’s not something I want to do over the phone.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  As she put on a fresh pair of jeans and a boat neck tee, Emma tried to rehearse what she would say. In all the scenarios passing through her brain, they all ended with Conner storming out of her house. Sadness made her chest tight as she applied a small amount of makeup so she didn’t look like death warmed over. Her final act was to make a pot of real coffee. Then she waited for what felt like an eternity but was actually a scant seven minutes.

  She’d killed the alarm and opened the door before he finished climbing the steps. She placed her finger to her lips. “David and Jeanine are sleeping.”

  Conner wasn’t wearing his uniform. Instead he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. The pale blue shirt accented his eyes and clung to his muscled torso like a second skin. His jeans hung low on his hips, inspiring all sorts of inappropriate thoughts on her part.

  “Coffee?”

  He nodded.

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Black is fine.”

  As she led him toward her office she felt nerves coil in her stomach. Emma had to keep reminding herself that telling Conner the truth could help find Amelia, and that had to be her first priority. Still, telling the man she’d been dishonest from day one wasn’t something she was relishing.

  She pointed him toward the empty chair across from her desk. As a stalling tactic, she went over her conclusions about his custody issues. “So, you’re going to have to get Sam’s feelings on all this or it won’t be worth the effort of filing. The judge will place great weight on what she wants.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “You have a good case,” she told him. “I’d be happy to draw up the petition if you’d like.”

  His smile reached his eyes. “Thanks for that. But let’s focus on your sister.”

  Emma inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly. Her eyes scanned his face, and she catalogued everything she liked about him just in case he stormed out the door.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  Emma placed her hands on the desk and made a small circle with her index finger. “I didn’t come to Purdue by accident.”

  “I already know that Elgin found out about you from one of your law professors.”

  Emma shook her head. “I keep forgetting about the Purdue gossip channel.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then blurted out, “I’m not Emma McKinley.”

  “What?”

  “Technically I am.” She nervously reached up and began twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “My name was changed when I was eleven. I was born Emily Stevens.”

  “Were you adopted?”

  She shook her head. “Emily Hodges as in daughter of Courtland Hodges.”

  She watched as recognition dawned.

  “The assassin?”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Why would you want to come to Purdue after what your father did here twenty years ago?”

  She opened her desk drawer and took out the envelope of clippings and passed them across the desk. “Someone has been sending these to me for six months. At first I ignored them because it was a closed chapter in my life.”

  “But now you’re not so sure he really was the killer?”

  She shrugged. “Someone wanted me to come here and look into the case. I wasn’t interested until my mother became ill and I found this in her dresser.” Emma reached in and took out the time-share promotional brochure. It was tri-fold, with a picture on the back she ignored as she folded it so Conner to see the wording of the invite. “I never knew why my father did what he did but I think maybe it has something to do with this time-share thing.”

  “You think he killed a sitting president over a vacation rental?” Conner asked with a definite edge in his voice.

  “I don’t know why he did it and thanks to Kenny Simms, no one will ever know. Maybe if he wouldn’t have shot my father on the scene, we would know my father’s motivation.”

  “So, you aren’t here to prove there was some Oswaldlike conspiracy at play?”

  Emma’s whole body suddenly felt tight. “I came to grips with what my father did years ago.”

  “Then why the name change?” he asked.

  “My mother was being haunted by the press and by the various governmental commissions examining the assassination. To protect my sister and me, she changed our names and moved us from Washington, D.C., to north Georgia. She gave us the gift of a relatively normal childhood.”

  “What about the lawsuit?”

  “I worked for a very prestigious law firm in New York and I stupidly confided in a guy I thought was my friend. He told the partners and they fired me. I sued them for wrongful termination and won.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I swore after the New York fiasco I’d never tell another soul. Hell, Amelia is engaged and she hasn’t even told her fiancé yet.”

  Conner stood, stuffing the clippings into the envelope as he did. “Can I keep these?”

  “For what?”

  “I want to run them for prints. Maybe find out who lured you here in the first place.”

  Emma blinked. “You’re not pissed at me for not telling you about my past?”

  “Nope. I’m definitely pissed. But I’ll get over it.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Emma called in to work and said she’d be in late if at all, just in case Conner was right and this was some whack job of a kidnapping. Not an ideal way to make an impression on her new boss; it did seem, however, to be her best option.

  “Did you sleep at all?” Jeanine asked when she came down wearing a faded floral dress and a well-worn sweater.

  Emma just shrugged. “You might want to make a fresh pot of coffee or use the Keurig. The stuff I made is really bitter.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” she said, though she remained lingering in the doorway of Emma’s office.

  “Yes?” Emma prompted.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I caught Jess and Sam in here last night when you were out with the sheriff.” She was wringing her hands. “I was gonna to tell you when you got home but then…”

&
nbsp; “Do you know what they were doing in here?” she asked.

  Jeanine frowned. “Nothing good,” she insisted. “I reminded them both that this was your private space and I ordered them into the living room.”

  “May I talk to David when he gets up?”

  “Feel free,” Jeanine said. “And if you want us to leave because—”

  “I don’t want you to leave. I just want to reinforce the rules with him. And with Sam.”

  Jeanine checked her watch. “It’ll be a little while before Sam gets here. Do you want to talk to them together or separately?”

  “Separately,” Emma decided.

  “I’ll get David,” she said before spinning on the ball of her foot and leaving the office.

  Emma would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed. She’d had such hope for David, and it definitely did not bode well that he’d broken one of her cardinal rules in the first weeks.

  Emma was absently twisting her hair into a ponytail when a very disheveled-looking David was escorted down the stairs and virtually shoved into the room by his mother. He was still half-asleep but since he wouldn’t make direct eye contact, she figured he knew exactly why he’d been summoned.

  He rubbed his face, then said, “I can explain.”

  “I’m ready to listen,” Emma said as she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “Your computer has a bigger and better processor than mine.”

  “And?”

  “I heard you talking to the sheriff about your sister’s cell phone records and I thought maybe I could save you some time and just hack into her account.”

  Emma uncrossed her arms. “You can do that?”

  He nodded. “Maybe. I overheard her number and the carrier. Mom just found us in here before I had a chance to try.”

  Emma relinquished her seat. “Let’s see what you can do,” she said, motioning David around the desk.

  David’s fingers flew across the keyboard. The screen went from normal to dark and suddenly a bunch of numbers and symbols scrolled quickly down the screen. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “One sec,” he said. “Okay, I’m in.”