“Yeah. But Shannon had a watch, and it helped.”
She rolled her eyes and sank into the ratty easy chair, whose comfort was more important than its indeterminable color. “Oh, I bet he liked that. You spying on his personal life.”
“He didn’t seem to mind.” Yet I knew Shannon would hate that violation once he thought about it—once the urgency of the moment was forgotten.
Tawnia frowned. “We’ll have to find something you can carry around with you. Something you’re not worried about making the imprints fade or being replaced by your own.”
“Let me know when you figure that out.” The best comforting imprints came from objects most treasured by people—wedding rings, photographs, keys, or other jewelry. I couldn’t exactly ask to borrow irreplaceable treasures.
“I will. Hey, what’s up with Jake? Randa seems to be all alone in the Herb Shoppe, and she’s got a bit of a line.” She held up a hand to stop me from moving. “No, not enough for you to rush in there to help. She can handle it. But where’s Jake?”
I didn’t feel like talking about Kolonda Lewis.
“Have you tried drawing another picture?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my long worktable, my legs stretched out to the floor. “Of Dennis, I mean.”
“Every chance I get.” She shook her head. “Nothing. But I drew so much that I finished all my work early today.”
She eyed the door to my bathroom somewhat regretfully. I knew how she felt. Once you settled in that chair, you wished you never had to get up, even for something as urgent as pregnancy bladder. I slept there some nights when I was working late.
I extended my arm to help her up. “We need to go see Dennis’s office.”
“Won’t the law firm be closed by now?”
“Well, the police are there, so probably not yet.”
“Then let the police take care of it.”
“I have to go. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m all jumpy.” Of course that might be because Jake was somewhere with a beautiful, accomplished woman who loved him, but at least going to Dennis’s office might do something constructive.
“Okay, but I need to eat. We’ll have to stop someplace on the way.”
“No way. I’ll throw something together while you’re in the bathroom.” I opened my mini refrigerator next to the bathroom door. “You’ve been eating nothing but white flour and preservatives all day.”
Tawnia laughed. “So does most of the world, and we do just fine. But if you insist, at least make it something edible, okay? None of that rye bread junk you tried to give me last week. Talk about a meal that haunts you.”
“Don’t worry. I have meat rolls, freshly baked last night.” I’d meant them for our lunch today, but she’d had that awful sandwich instead, and I hadn’t begun to make headway on them, despite my large appetite.
“Wait,” I said before she could close the bathroom door. “I just thought of something. What about naming the baby Unity? That might inspire some good.”
“Unity? For a baby name? Oh, come on.” She shut the door in my face.
Randa had finished with her customers by the time Tawnia emerged from the bathroom, and I let her go a few minutes early as I closed and locked up both shops. Then we took Tawnia’s car to the law firm where Dennis worked because if she didn’t do the driving, she tended to become nauseated. We ate as we drove to the address I’d looked up on the Internet and programmed into her GPS. I didn’t know if I was in a hurry to get there before the police left so I might be let in, or if I’d hoped the police were gone and the office still open so I could talk my way in. Either way didn’t bode well for my success. My only advantage was Tawnia, the queen of getting her own way. We’d have to play it by ear.
The offices of Simeon, Gideon & Associates were even more prestigious than their name. The ultimate of cutting edge architecture, though the rather abstract statue in the spacious lobby, obviously designed to impress, looked lumpy and lopsided to my trained eyes.
Tawnia eyed the statue appreciatively. “Is that a man fighting a bear or a woman giving birth?”
I laughed. “Take your pick.”
“So how do we get permission to search the place?”
“I don’t know. If Paige’s still here, she might find a way to get us in, at least to Dennis’s office.” Belatedly, I thought about calling to let Paige know I was here. Then again, she hadn’t invited me along in the first place—not that I blamed her. She was the one who had to work with Shannon. At least she hadn’t specifically asked me to stay away.
“May I help you?” asked the blonde at the tall reception desk.
I put my hands on the desk and leaned forward. “We’re working with the police on Dennis Briggs’s disappearance. I’d like to see his office, please.”
She eyed us doubtfully. Tawnia was dressed the part in her office wear, a stretchy maroon maternity suit to be exact, but in my comfortable camouflage pants, baggy after my hospital stint, and my fitted T-shirt, I probably looked more like a teenager on her way to high school. “The police just left.”
“It will only take a few minutes,” Tawnia said. “We couldn’t get here sooner.”
“Let me call someone.”
I had visions of Tawnia talking to the guy in charge while I sneaked around and searched for Dennis’s office. Not going to happen from the secure look of this place. Besides, with my luck, I’d end up tackled and earn myself another broken rib.
Removing my rings and shoving them in the pocket of my pants, I trailed my hands over the objects on the reception desk. A sign-in chart, a bronze plaque, a pen, a potted flower. Nothing. I flexed my toes and slowly paced the length of the reception desk, but there were no imprints on the floor, either. No surprise since not much was felt strongly at foot level. If it were, I might be forced to wear shoes, despite the back pain most of them caused me. I headed over to the waiting area of leather couches and stacks of magazines. More potted plants.
“What is she doing?”
“It’s called psychometry.” Tawnia spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She didn’t elaborate, and I was glad the receptionist seemed too cowed by her cool response to ask any questions.
I sensed nothing. If someone here had it out for Dennis, they hadn’t left their feelings lying around this public area. A part of me was relieved. Strong imprints left in a public place were usually terrible because people simply didn’t have many loving emotions about things that didn’t belong to them. Rather, they felt greed, anger, hatred, desire, and revenge. The library was the exception. I’d found a lot of comforting imprints on books, though some sections I’d learned to stay away from altogether, like those dealing with grieving, weapon-making, and intimacy. No reason to destroy my life with imprints that were insidious and addictive. I didn’t plan on becoming a junkie of any kind.
A man emerged from the elevator situated on the wall to the left of the desk. “I’m Ben Fuller, one of the associates here,” he said to Tawnia. “May I help you?”
I hurried over to them. The man was about our age and handsome in an I-know-I’m-good sort of way. His brown hair was a little too short for seriousness, and his face slightly soft-looking for my tastes, but his immaculate suit and highly buffed shoes screamed upscale professionalism.
Tawnia began explaining our purpose, making it sound as though the police had invited us. I let her do it because fabrication has never been my strong suit, something I’d have to work on for my investigating. Plus, she was the older twin, having been born before midnight on February twenty-third, twenty-seven minutes before me, which made me younger by an entire day. Since I was the one taking care of her in practically every other way, she needed to earn that older sibling status. Not that she would agree with me.
Ben stared at my feet, but I hadn’t seen any signs saying people had to wear shoes. Contrary to popular belief, governmental health regulations did not require people to wear shoes in buildings, public or otherwise. If such notices were posted
in private businesses, it wasn’t because of the health department. Last I’d checked, it was also legal to drive in all fifty states without shoes, though some officers themselves didn’t know the law. In my teens, I’d received a ticket for failing to wear shoes while driving. I’d fought it in court—and won.
I met Ben’s stare evenly. For some reason I wondered if his mother called him Benny. He seemed like a Benny to me.
“The police just left,” Ben said. “They took Dennis’s hard drive and some other records—we are cooperating fully, of course. They didn’t say anything about anyone else coming, and now the office is actually closed for the day.” He said it with a finality that might have had me pleading for an exception or walking to the door.
Tawnia took it all in stride. Taking out her phone, she began pushing buttons. “You know Dennis’s wife, Sophie, don’t you?”
“Well, uh, I’ve met her. I guess.”
“Hi, Sophie? This is Tawnia. I’m at Dennis’s office with Autumn, but I need you to please talk to Ben Fuller here. Let him know that Autumn’s working with the police like she was doing at your house today. We need to get in to see Dennis’s office.” She handed the phone to a surprised Ben.
“Hello?” He was quiet a long time as Sophie’s voice ebbed and flowed, loud enough for us to hear but not loud enough to make out the words. “Really? That’s interesting. So you think I should let them in? Well, all right.” He handed Tawnia back the phone.
“Okay,” Ben said. “You can see his office only, but you need to hurry. As I said, we’re closed.” He was obviously not inclined to make small talk with people he didn’t know well. Or maybe he had a guilty conscience where Dennis was concerned. In my opinion, everyone here was suspect.
He took two steps away from us and leaned over the reception desk, whispering something to the receptionist. She nodded and glanced nervously at us over his shoulder.
Ben straightened. “Come this way.” His gaze ran over me again, not altogether sneering but different now that he’d talked to Sophie. She must have told him about my ability, and I had fallen in his estimation from scum to freak. Well, no matter. It was why I was here after all.
He didn’t take us to the elevator but to a door near it, which opened onto a long corridor. It was the kind of law firm where everyone had his own office, even the lowly IT guy, though his was probably far smaller than those of the partners and associates. From what Ben told us, Dennis’s job consisted of everything—writing programs, installing software, keeping the network up, and doing odd bits of research. Tawnia latched onto this last bit of information.
“So, he might have learned something in his research that put him in danger.”
Ben stared at her. “We handle a lot of sensitive items, but I don’t think anyone would want to, uh, knock him off because he stumbled across some information. It’s not as if we do anything illegal here.”
No one spoke, but Tawnia and I exchanged a significant stare when Ben wasn’t looking.
“Of course not,” I muttered when the silence grew too noticeable, but my mind was working overtime. What if Dennis’s disappearance had nothing to do with the murder he’d witnessed? I wasn’t a big believer in coincidences, but they did happen, and after all, five years had gone by since the murder. Why would he be discovered now? The chance of uncovering something possibly damaging about his own employers or their clients was a lot more likely.
I mentally reined in my thoughts. Not only was this speculation unhelpful at the moment with Ben staring suspiciously at me but I didn’t want my thoughts to influence any imprints I might find.
Dennis’s office was about as large as the back room at my shop, though arranged in a square instead of a rectangle, which made it feel more roomy. Plus it had a nice-sized window that opened into a small courtyard with several large flowerbeds. Not bad at all. A wide oak desk held a neat stack of papers, an iPod dock, and two large monitors. Two extra chairs stood against the wall under a dry erase board. A tall bookshelf held numerous books and several pictures of Sophie and the kids. Much like his areas of the bedroom and master bath, the office was uncluttered to the point of sparseness. Except for the pictures, it could have belonged to anyone.
I began with the bookshelf first, running my fingers over the spines of the books. Many people were attached to their favorite books and left imprints on them. These, however, seemed new, or nearly so. I wasn’t surprised that they held nothing. Not even the pictures of his family had more than vaguely pleasant imprints attached. He hadn’t handled them since he’d placed them on the shelves.
My jumpy feeling was still present as it had been since I’d left Sophie’s. I reached the desk, pulled open a drawer containing an ergonomic keyboard. A thin, silver pen lay at the top of the keyboard, far from the other writing utensils that filled another compartment in the drawer.
I leaned over and touched the keyboard. Flashes of concentration, contentment, frustration. Too many imprints to separate, not one standing out from the rest. The daily grind.
Okay, the pen. As my hand approached, I noticed a smear marred the shiny surface. Probably Dennis’s fingerprint—nothing I needed to worry about preserving since he hadn’t disappeared from here, and Shannon had probably already lifted Dennis’s fingerprints in connection with his full background check.
The smoothness of the pen against my skin was immediately blotted out by an imprint.
I entered a room where two men sat at a large conference table. Bright daylight shone through two oversized windows on the far wall.
“Ian, I have the information you wanted,” I said.
The men turned and the smile froze on my face. “Thanks, Dennis.” The man with the blond hair came to his feet and reached for the papers.
I stared at the dark-haired man across from him, my eyes falling to the hands on the table and then back to his face.
Fear crashed over me. Utter, blinding fear that paralyzed absolutely. Fear that made me want to scream and weep. Fear that removed all hope.
Also, a sliver of something more, something I couldn’t decipher because it was obliterated by the fear.
Maybe he didn’t recognize me. It was my only chance.
The man rose slowly to his feet, dipping his head in polite acknowledgment. His eyes were intent on my face, and my terror cranked up a notch.
“Uh, Dennis, can I have the papers?”
“Oh, yeah.” My grip loosened enough so Ian could take the papers, but I clutched the silver pen desperately. Sweat made my hands slick. Turn. Leave. Taking a breath, I managed to do just that.
Finally, I was in the hallway, breathing heavily. One thought was uppermost in my mind, even above the terror: I have to get out of here. It was the only way my family would be safe. First, I had to make myself walk. One foot in front of the other. Hurry!
The imprint disappeared, and I waited only a second to make sure there were no others before dropping the pen.
“Autumn? What did you see?” Tawnia gripped my shoulder tightly, as though doing so would call me back to the present.
I wished when I saw imprints that I could see them with a disconnected outsider’s view. Unfortunately, that was not how it worked—at least not with the most vivid ones. These memories would become my own, and like at Sophie’s today, try as I might to tell myself I wasn’t in danger, my emotions refused to believe me. I was fortunate this imprint had been so brief.
“Well?” Tawnia asked. She and Ben were staring at me, Tawnia with concern, Ben with skepticism.
“I know why Dennis left,” I said. “But I don’t know how it’s connected to the murder.”
Chapter 5
“Murder?” Ben’s brown eyes opened wide. “The police didn’t say anything about a murder.”
“That’s because it’s on a need-to-know basis.” Shannon strode through the doorway, Paige close behind him.
I caught a glimpse of the receptionist in the hall beyond them. Now I knew what Ben had been whispering to her
before he brought us back here. He must have wanted to throw us out but was playing it safe in case we were legit. If we weren’t, he’d expect Shannon to do his dirty work.
Shannon crossed to the desk and glared down at me. “I thought I told you to stay out of this.”
I lifted my chin. “I thought you knew you weren’t my boss.”
“This is serious.”
“Which is why I’m here. Look, do you want to continue pretending you’re protecting me, or do you want to know what I found?” Shannon’s jaw worked silently for a moment, as though struggling to control what was trying to burst forth. To give him credit, he didn’t immediately slap me in cuffs and charge me with interfering in a police investigation.
“I’d like to know.” Paige was smiling, but the worried look in her eyes and the line on her brow told me she didn’t know how Shannon was going to react to her support.
“Was Dennis murdered?” Ben interrupted, his face looking pasty. “Is that what this is all about?”
To my relief, Shannon fixed his stare on Ben. “No. At least not that we know of.” When Shannon turned back to me, I found myself wishing I could ask for his watch because I still felt unsettled by Dennis’s fear. I couldn’t ask, though, because that would be proving Shannon’s point, if only in a small way.
“Okay,” Shannon said. “What did you see?”
“She didn’t see anything,” Ben said. “She was sitting there the whole time. And if you are trying to imply something is amiss here, I’ll remind you that Simeon, Gideon & Associates is a law firm and completely capable of protecting itself.”
Shannon’s face darkened, and I would have felt glad that Ben had diverted his attention if my hands hadn’t started shaking. I tucked them into the pockets of my pants so no one would notice.
“No one is implying anything, Mr. Fuller,” Shannon said. “Now if you would be so good as to leave us alone a minute—”
Ben scowled, but he started toward the door.
“Wait,” I said. “We’ll need to talk with someone here named Ian.”
On the Hunt Page 6
