They stepped on the existing tracks of the search team. Each step was a shadow behind those who'd walked ahead.
In front of the young woman, now doubled over in anticipation of vomiting, was a mass of undulating maggots.
A CSI in a dark blue jumpsuit, bent down. 'Dead fawn,' he said, not masking his disappointment. 'No tag, but steer clear. Damn it. This must be our hot spot'
For nearly two years, the dead deer was the closest anyone really got to finding Kristi. Emily had left the Seattle Police Department by then, moving David and Jenna into the old house on Orchard Avenue. She'd told everyone that her parents were ailing, but the truth was she could no longer face the reminders of what she'd done. Being exonerated by the department's Internal Affairs meant nothing.
Not when a missing girl with blond hair and blue eyes haunted every dream.
Sunday, 7:10 n.M., Seattle
Emily finished a drink from the minibar and looked in the mirror. All the makeup in the world wouldn't make her beautiful just now. Christopher Collier would have to see her for what she was-a middle-aged mother heartbroken with worry about her only child. Where was Jenna? What had happened at Bonnie 's? She filled the sink and splashed cool water on her face. She'd hoped it would reduce the puffiness of her eyes, but she doubted it. She patted herself dry and put on a touch of makeup and some lip color. She was about to try something with her hair when the hotel phone rang.
'Emily, I'm downstairs. Want to eat here? I checked out the dining room menu. Looks good'
'Sure, Chris. Be down in a minute.'
'Good. We have lots to talk about '
Emily buttoned up a fresh blouse and slipped on a simple linen skirt. She ran a brush through her thick, dark hair. She fished through her bag and found a gold bracelet that Jenna had given her for Mother's Day the year before her marriage crumbled. She dabbed on a little blush. This was as good as it was going to get.
Christopher has seen me at my worst. He won't mind.
Sunday, 8:00 nM
The dining room at the Westerfield was all cream and gold, with ceilings soaring thirty feet above candlelit tables spread with linen, silver, and crystal. The menu was a haute cuisine mix of Pacific Rim cooking. The feature that evening was Chilean sea bass prepared with sesame, garlic, and scallions. Emily and Christopher both ordered it, along with a bottle of Chardonnay from a small Washington vintner that had won raves from Wine Spectator. A little awkward small talk reigned for a while. Christopher had been divorced for ten years. His kids lived with his ex and her new husband on a ranch in Boise. He lived in a downtown condo overlooking Puget Sound and Seattle's Pike Place Market. He still loved hiking and made frequent treks in the Cascades and Olympics.
'You still hike, Emily?' He speared a bite of flaky white fish.
She touched her napkin to her lips. 'Yes, but we don't get out as much as we'd like,' Emily said, obviously referring to her and Jenna. Every sentence seemed to be constructed that way. It only served to remind her of the deep emptiness she felt, the fear she had for her daughter's safety.
After a pause, she said, 'Thanks for not making a big deal about me being the Emily Kenyon at the Jeffries scene' When she'd overheard him talking about it, he'd seemed forgiving-more forgiving than she had been over the years about what had happened back then.
He swirled the wine in his glass. 'No problem. That case has followed you much more than me. I mean, I was there, too, you know.'
'Yes, I remember.' Emily sipped her wine, reminding herself she'd had already had what amounted to two shots of tequila. Though grateful that he understood, Emily took the opportunity and changed the subject. 'Did you make the notification about Bonnie Jeffries? Should I brace myself?'
'No,' he said. He set his fork down. 'That's one of the reasons I wanted to see you. Catching up with you, as pleasant as it is, wasn't my sole motive.'
Emily felt a flash of embarrassment. 'Of course.'
'We can't find any record of Bonnie having any family,' he said.
She thought of the papers up in her room. Tina hadn't mentioned any children, either. 'What about the pictures? Maybe a nephew?'
'No family. Seems Bonnie's parents were killed in a car wreck back in ninety-one. No sibs. No husband. The woman lived alone after the Angel's Nest scandal. Hardly ever went out. Her neighbors didn't even know her last name or where she worked'
Dinner continued with some shop talk, some family stuff. When the dessert cart scooted by, both took a pass. Christopher pulled out what looked like an old photo album. It was scuffed black leather, with red corners. Emily hadn't really noticed that he brought it along until then. She looked at it inquisitively.
'From Bonnie's place,' he said. 'I think you should see it.'
She put her hand out, but Christopher didn't give it up.
'Not here. Let's take it somewhere private. Your room?'
If it were any other man, Emily would have shot down the suggestion with a laugh and a quick retort. But she trusted Christopher. And more than that, she saw the concerned look in his eyes.
Or was it something more?
Chapter Thirty
Sunday, 9:45 EM., Seattle
'Doing some clandestine research on the case?' Christopher asked as they entered Emily's hotel room. She nodded in the direction of the stolen stacks of hospital records she'd laser printed off David's office computer.
'And, no, I didn't have a warrant,' she said.
'I didn't log this baby into evidence yet, either,' Christopher said, setting the photo album on the corner of the bed. 'Nice place,' he said. 'They must have big expense accounts in Cherrystone' He surveyed the plush surroundings, deep coppery hues on the pillow-overloaded bed, a gas fireplace, an oil painting that appeared to be original not a massproduced phony like most places have. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Olympic Mountains off in the distance were nearly indigo and the city lights of Seattle twinkled in the foreground. 'My place is right over there'
Emily stood next to him, feeling the effects of too much Chardonnay. 'Where?'
He pointed to his condo, but when she didn't spot it, he reached over and turned her head just a touch. 'There.'
The moment begged for double entendres along the lines of I'll show you mine, if you show me yours- evidence, that is. But both parties resisted. There was too much at stake just then, and the teasing near-romance of their friendship was years ago.
The message feature on her cell phone pulsed and Emily took the cue to break away from Christopher and the window. She dialed and learned that David and Olga had phoned. She'd call both of them back after Christopher showed her whatever it was that he'd brought to dinner.
Christopher took the opportunity to dial in for an update on the Jeffries case. His face was stone. No smile. None of the charm that he'd shown during dinner. Whatever he was hearing, it was unpleasant and dark. When he ended the call, he told her that he'd been talking with the medical examiner's assistant about the Jeffries murder.
'Overkill, for sure,' he said. 'I guess even a rookie could tell that by the scene. Jesus, talk about blood-soaked. ME says that Bonnie Jeffries was beaten and stabbed. Either could have killed her. She was hit with a hammer or something like that-tool marks on her skull are being reviewed now. Looks like at least a half dozen times. She was stabbed with a serrated blade probably thirty-five times.'
The possible circumstances of her last breaths were more than bone chilling. They were arctic.
'She had a big set of knives in the kitchen,' Emily said. 'I have the same set'
He nodded. 'Right. I saw them. Not yours. Hers'
'I got that'
'The ME says she was probably out cold when she was stabbed. Not a single defensive wound'
