Conduit (8 page)

Despite swallowing three aspirin
with her morning coffee, Emily’s headache had not eased up by the time she
reached the office. When she walked into the lobby, Beverly let her know that
their previously scheduled appointments for that afternoon had been rescheduled
so they could attend the memorial service. On Sundays they only had a few
scattered appointments, but keeping a few appointment times open on the weekends
allowed them to bring in clients who were unable to meet during the week.

Beverly also mentioned a new appointment scheduled for a ten
o’clock consultation. Other than that, their day was free. Emily figured she
would use the time to start her research on the murders. She told Beverly that Cassie
would not be in until later, and she would handle the consultation that began
in fifteen minutes, but not to schedule any other appointments.

In her office, Emily created a new case file while her
computer warmed up. From her desk drawer, she took out a notepad along with a
manila folder. On the label she handwrote, “Uncle Leo.” She determined earlier that
she would not give the case a name that would connect it to the serial killer
case. Beverly wouldn’t be brought into the loop since they agreed to work the
case pro bono.

On her computer, Emily directed an Internet browser to the
website for
The Wichita Eagle
newspaper. A large article about the murders appeared on the homepage, written
for the Sunday edition. She wondered if it would discuss the newest body from
the day before. She opened up the article and found a link to other news
articles about the killings.

In another browser, she performed a news search using the keywords
“murder” and “Wichita” and found several articles from newspapers across the
country. She had noticed the increased media presence in her hometown in the
past weeks, most of which probably deemed themselves as some type of
investigative reporter who would break open the case before the police. Normally,
the media intrusion in the city would have annoyed her, but the wealth of
information now worked to her advantage. She wanted to see every angle worked
by reporters, as one might open up some undiscovered ideas.

Emily pulled up the article from
The Wichita Eagle
. She leaned back in her office chair, leaving her
hand on the mouse. Sipping her coffee, her eyes traveled across the words on
her computer screen.

The article showed large photos of each of the six victims
in three rows of two under the glaring headline, “REMEMBERING THE VICTIMS.” Thorough
biographies of each victim complemented the photos, exactly what she needed. If
two of these women called to her in the midst of their terror, getting to know
them was the first step in figuring out why she was involved.

Glancing over the photos, Emily didn’t recognize any of the
victims outside of seeing the photos flashed on the evening news. The first
victim, Robin Stewart, was a brunette with true natural beauty. She worked in a
pharmacy during the week. Her mother had been diagnosed with stage four brain
cancer three months before Robin’s disappearance, and she gave into the disease
only a week after a jogger discovered Robin’s body.

Morgan Grier, the second victim, was petite in stature but a
powerhouse while alive. She ran a martial arts studio in an inner-city
neighborhood and spent her days steering kids away from drugs and gangs. She
had won several awards for her efforts, and was beloved by all who knew her. A
photo inset next to her biography showed candles, cards, teddy bears, and other
mementos sitting outside her studio, left behind by mourners to honor her life
and memory.

The third victim’s lifestyle couldn’t have been more
different than the first two. As an engineer in the aerospace industry, Shannon
Hale’s husband supported their large family while Shannon took care of the kids
and home. They had just celebrated the news of expecting their sixth child,
with whom Shannon was twelve weeks pregnant at the time of her death.

Emily paused in her reading. She thought she remembered news
reports discussing the third victim’s pregnancy, but she had blocked out the
gruesomeness. The deaths were brutal enough without considering that a family’s
most joyous time had taken such a tragic turn.

She glanced over the rest of the victims in the article. Ashley
Norris was a gorgeous blonde who looked like any one of a thousand other aspiring
actresses. She worked for a small-time modeling agency out of Kansas City, and
performed in a local dinner theatre on the weekends to save money for a move to
Los Angeles to pursue her dream of fame.

The fifth photo was that of Diane Murphy, a stout businesswoman
with full cheeks and thick glasses who had nothing in common with any of the
other victims. According to the article, her career consumed her entire life.

The last box showed a young woman, Lucy Kim. A kindergarten
teacher by day, Lucy attended Wichita State University in pursuit of her Ph.D.
with the hopes of teaching at a university. The public learned of her identity late
last night.

Emily printed out the article and added it to her folder.
She clicked out of the Internet browser and put the file away in her cabinet.
She had hoped to recognize one of the victims or to discover some sort of
connection she had with them, but none of the short bios on the victims sparked
any recognition.

As she left her office to refresh her coffee before starting
on the other articles, Emily glanced at her watch and noticed it was nearing time
for her consultation appointment. Instead of getting more coffee, she detoured
to a file cabinet at the end of the hallway near Cassie’s office and took out a
new client packet. She wandered into the conference room and organized her
items and her thoughts at the head of the oak conference room table.

A few moments later, Beverly entered the conference room
with her ten o’clock consultation. Emily stood up to greet her potential new
client, a welcoming smile on her lips.

“Mr. Jake Hanley for his consultation,” Beverly said, with a
delightful tone and pleasant grin. Emily retained her own smile long enough for
Beverly to exit the room and shut the door.

Emily’s smile dissolved and only the thudding of her heart
rang in her ears. His eyes had not left hers since he walked in the room. She should
have been left with a creepy feeling from him stalking her all the way to her
office, but a warm flush invaded her neck and cheeks.

“I thought you were going to kick me out the moment you saw
me here,” Jake said. He sat in the corner chair diagonal to hers and swiveled
to face her.

She closed the new client packet in front of her and clicked
her pen to retract the ink tip. She laid the pen down in a slow movement to
take a second to figure out what to say. “I would have thought so as well, but
I guess I’m more curious than that.”

“They say curiosity killed the cat,” he said.

“But it never killed a human,” Emily said. She knew the
answer to her next question before she asked it. “Do you have a case for me?”

“I’m sorry I used that ruse to come see you.” Sincerity
laced his voice and Emily’s guard lowered. “I remember you said you own this
firm and I knew it was the best way to see you again. You never told me your
name, but your website has a photo of you. It also says you are open on
Sundays, so here I am.”

“Then it’s a good thing we offer free consultations.”

Jake chuckled, but quickly became serious. “I want to
apologize to you.” He gestured his hands toward her.

The sheer closeness of his hands jolted Emily’s breathing. Her
tongue darted across her suddenly dry lips. “Apologize?”

“You know, for last night at the party. Even though I didn’t
mean to, what I did to you wasn’t right. I’m not a stalker, a creep, or
anything else as distasteful.”

Emily laughed. “Oh, really?”

“I guess it does look bad that I’m sitting here right now,”
Jake said. “I wanted to tell you in person that before last night, I’ve never
done what I did to you. I wasn’t even sure it was possible to get into someone’s
head like that, and I wasn’t trying to do it. I saw you across the room and couldn’t
help what happened. I guess my abilities just took a strange turn. I couldn’t
control it, and the next thing I knew, you were scolding me.”

Emily’s smile fell. She knew all about her talents taking a
strange turn. Sometimes those things came natural to her and before she could
process the changes, she was doing something new, like hearing voices and creating
automatic writings.

Jake pushed his chair back and stood up. “I understand if
you won’t accept my apology.” He gestured inward at his chest. “I probably wouldn’t
if I was in your place and someone had done that to me. I guess I needed to let
you know that I am sorry, even if it means nothing to you.” He started for the
conference room door.

“Your apology would be more sincere if it came with dinner,”
Emily said. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to turn and run.
She had never said something so blunt and had not intended to say it to this
man.

Jake turned around, his eyes wide and lips parted. “And I,
uh, definitely want you to know how sincere I am. When do you, I mean, when are
you free? Tonight, maybe?”

She offered a shy smile. “Tonight works.”

“How does six sound? I can pick you up here or—”

“I’ll be out front. Six o’clock tonight.”

Jake nodded with a shocked expression, as if he never
expected this result from his simple apology. “I’ll see you then.” He walked
out of the conference room door and disappeared out of her sight.

Emily remained seated in her chair for several minutes,
terrified to move. What had she done? She hadn’t been on a date in the several
months since she ended it with Nathan, or even considered the idea of jumping
back into that scene. Nathan had made her realize how inconvenient her talents
were when it came to romance. It was too hard keeping secrets, and with that
came immense pressure when meeting new men.

But Jake was like her. He had secrets, too.

Emily rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. An
uninvited vision of Jake’s smile beneath those green eyes penetrated her
thoughts, and his musky scent invaded her nostrils. She allowed herself a
moment to think about him as a man, as someone with whom she would love having
more than a casual dinner date.

She grabbed the new client packet off the table and dashed
out of the conference room. Jake may be like her, but that didn’t mean she
could share all of her secrets with him. How could she ever discuss the strange
automatic writings or the voices that came at the most inconvenient times? Automatic
writings were one thing, but hearing voices ranked high up on the crazy list. How
could she explain that to anyone if she couldn’t even understand it?

Dinner with Jake would succeed in taking her mind off the case
for a brief hour or two. Maybe she could even turn him into a good contact for
future jobs and make it a successful working dinner. Anything beyond that would
be impossible, at least until she found a good shrink to cure her of being crazy.

If Emily didn’t start talking soon, she
knew Cassie would assume something was wrong and interrogate her. Emily never
fared well under that kind of spotlight, especially in the confines of a vehicle,
and not when she had so many things she wanted to tell Cassie. She searched for
something to say that wouldn’t sound forced and lead Cassie straight to
suspecting her of holding back secrets.

Humming along with the radio, belting out a line or two
every so often, Cassie didn’t seem to notice Emily’s silence. Her head bounced
to the beat, the windshield wipers acting like a metronome. Emily usually
mirrored Cassie’s actions, but Diane Murphy’s memorial service weighed on her
mind. That and Jake Hanley.

Emily chased Jake out of her mind for the hundredth time
since he had left her office that morning. She had not revealed her upcoming
date to Cassie, and she worried that if she thought about it too much, she
might talk about it without being asked. Until Emily knew how things turned out
with Jake tonight, Cassie did not need to know about her date. Besides, Emily
expected nothing more than a friendly dinner, during which they could discuss
how they could help each other out in the future on a professional level.

The car sped faster through the rain soaked streets than
Emily liked, but she was used to Cassie’s nail-biting driving. She watched the
city go by under the torrent of yet another spring shower. Listening to the
rain patter on the roof of the car, Emily mused it was the perfect day for a
memorial service.

Though the dark rain clouds covering the city spelled gloom
and doom, the spring rain would bring life back to nature, but could never
return life to the six victims or restore life for their families. They were
forever impacted by the sick actions of one man whose motivations might one day
be exposed, but never fully understood. Catching the killer could provide a
little bit of closure, but not nearly enough to patch their now broken lives.

Emily briefly reconsidered their intrusion on the memorial
service. The invasion into the victim’s private life on probably the worst day
in their family history made her feel a little guilty, but if they could find
something, even one small clue to lead police to find the man who took her life,
it was worth it.

She turned away from the rain-streaked window and toward Cassie.
“How do you propose we go about this?”

“We can’t tell them we’re working with the police,” Cassie
said. “They might not open up to us if they think we’ve got anything to do with
this investigation.”

“Maybe we can say we’re old friends and just go from there.
Since Diane went to high school here in Wichita, it will be easy to say we know
her from back then and kept in touch over the years.”

“Great idea. She was right around our age, so that will work.
Which high school did she go to?”

“East.”

Cassie groaned. “I used to date a boy from East back in high
school and let’s just say those are not good memories.”

“I remember him. Joshua something, but you called him
something else—”

“The Frog,” both women said in unison, followed by laughter
that generally accompanied memories of their teenage antics.

“Why is it that most of your stories start with a guy you
used to date?” Emily asked.

“What can I say? I’m rather experienced in the dating arena.”

“I don’t think that’s something to brag about, at least not
in public.” Emily pointed to the stoplight a block in front of them. “Turn left
up here.”

“I know how to get there,” Cassie said. “I also used to date
a boy from Holy Spirit in high school.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “You need some sort of dating
consultant to get to the bottom of your inability to settle down. Speaking of
which, what happened with Stephen last night?”

“It was actually beautiful and poetic. I gave him an earful,
he gave me an earful of excuses, and then his wife called my cell phone while
we were arguing.”

Emily’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

“I didn’t recognize the number so I answered it. I never do
that, but I was so tired of listening to him that I thought it was a good way
to get out of the conversation. She had checked his cell phone records because
she suspected something was up. She didn’t know my number and saw it quite a
bit on the bill so she gave me a ring. I got to tell her right in front of him
that he was out on a date with me.”

“Surely you told her you just found out he was married.”

“Of course! I’m not one for angry, vengeful wives coming to
my door unannounced. I told her she could either keep the sorry bastard or
divorce him, but that I was a private investigator and I’d be glad to take her
case for a much reduced fee if she needed help with the latter.”

“What did she say?”

“She’d give me a call in the next few days.”

“You are the only person I know who is able to solicit business
in the oddest situations.”

“Gotta make a living somehow.” Cassie steered the car into
the parking lot of Holy Spirit Catholic Church and maneuvered into an open
parking space toward the back of the lot. She turned off the engine, but made
no move to exit the car.

Emily scanned the sea of parked vehicles. “It’s packed.” she
said. “At least we’ll have our choice of people to talk to.”

“Over the years, we’ve had to misrepresent ourselves in a
lot of places,” Cassie said, “but this is probably the grimmest of settings to
do our dirty work.”

“Under the grimmest of circumstances.”

“I wish I could disagree with you.” Cassie gave a strained
smile. “Let’s get this over with.”