Emily showed the card and disappeared inside the revolving door. A florist had delivered a new table arrangement, teddy bear sunflowers and spikes of blue delphinium. Freesia filled the air. Ordinarily she'd stop and take in the beauty of the flowers. But not then. All she could think about was Jenna, Tina, Bonnie, and the serial killer that had somehow brought all of them together. She and Chris would talk later, but right then she was on her own. David was mad at her. Kip wasn't answering. Even Gloria was too busy. She felt a flash of paranoia; a feeling that came from making a major mistake and never being able to rectify it.
'FBI here. Can't talk,' Gloria whispered. 'Call back in an hour'
'All right.' Emily shut her phone and looked at the black album. The image of a little blond girl came to mind. She was laughing. She was on a swing. She was running in a field. And she ended up in the cold darkness of hole in the ground, a root cellar, a grave.
If Dylan Walker was responsible for Kristi's death, then how was Reynard Tuttle involved? She flipped through the pages. What happened?
But more than anything, where was her daughter?
Christopher's number lit up the LED display and her phone vibrated.
'I'm on my way back to the hotel,' he said. 'Em, I have some news' His voice was mixed with dread.
'What is it?' Emily asked.
'Better if I talk to you about this in person'
'Chris,' her unsteady voice was ten times louder, now. 'Don't do this. Tell me. Am I in trouble?'
Christopher hesitated. 'No, not you. Not directly.'
'Please' Emily was begging then. She never begged. 'Is it denna? '
'All right. Be calm. Sit tight. I'll tell you' His words came in a machine gun fashion, a breath between each staccato utterance. 'Shali Patterson's car's been found. The one Jenna and Nick Martin were driving. There's blood on the steering wheel.'
'Were they in an accident?' The remark was merely her best reaction to what he was saying, partly a cover for what she already knew. It was also hoped. The color had drained from her face. 'What hospital?' The phrase ended with the up tick of a question. It was spoken by a mother with hope at least a mother wanting to believe that everything was all right.
'Jenna and Nick are missing. The VW was found behind a grocery store not far from Jeffries's place.'
There was silence. He waited for Emily to say something. 'Are you all right?'
'Dear God,' she said. 'Where are they? What happened?'
'There's more, Emily.'
'Yes?' She steadied herself. What more could there be?
'There was a note'
'A note?' From Jenna? 'I don't understand'
'We'll figure it out. I'm turning in to the garage now.' Silence followed and Christopher thought maybe the phone had lost its cell.
'Emily?'
'Yes. Yes,' she repeated.
'You need to know something. The note was addressed to you.
Emily put her hand out for the card. There was a slight tremor in her grasp, but she kept her eyes riveted on Christopher Collier as he entered her hotel room. There was a strange look on his face, and she couldn't quite determine what it was. Look at me, her dark brown eyes pleaded. Show me. She took the card. It was plain, white, and carried in a clear glassine envelope.
On its slick surface it read:
EMILYKENYON: YOUR TURNNOW
The words were handwritten, with a distinct and printing cursive combination that looked like what they'd seen at Tina Esposito's house and in the black album. She noticed some smudges on the other side. It had already been processed for latents by the crime lab.
'When did you get this?' she asked.
'Two hours ago. Yes, it's been processed. Unfortunately, it's clean.'
Still holding the card, Emily sat down. 'How could you? Why didn't you call me right away?'
Christopher moved closer. 'We think it's about Jenna's disappearance.'
The air was sucked out of her lungs, and she could barely speak. She forced the words from her lips. 'No. No it's not.'
Christopher shook his head and tenderly took her hand. 'Look, Em, it seems to be. The card came for me. It was in my mail slot downtown. No one saw who brought it. It had no envelope, just the card' He could see that Emily was crying then, though she was doing it silently, in that way that he came to know when they worked together. When the case went bad. When the murder scene involved children. She was tough and smart, but she had her breaking point. A lot of cops did. Some reached for the bottle. Some smoked like there was no tomorrow. Emily Kenyon cried it out, very quietly.
'Look, there's something else you should know,' he said. 'The blood in the car was Bonnie's and another person's'
'Jenna's?' Her face froze.
He shook his head. 'We typed her through your old HR records. Not her. We think Nick Martin's, but that's just a stab in the dark' He regretted his word choice right away and backpedaled. 'You know, just preliminary. Could be anyone'
Emily got up and opened a bottle of water. She took a couple of aspirins.
'All right,' she said. 'The card is the same as the one we saw at Tina's. The writing is the same'
He nodded and let her talk.
'Someone wants to hurt me, right?'
'That's what I'm thinking. That's likely the message here, about it being your turn'
'Right. My turn to suffer? My turn to die?'
'Maybe. But we don't know.'
'But we do know one thing. My daughter is missing. Some sicko is playing some game with me. I don't know if it is Nick or Dylan or Tina's husband or who might want to do this.'
She went for the crumpled Macy's bag and pulled out the papers she'd smuggled from the hospital. It was all she had. Doing something always won out over tears and frustration. She and Christopher spread them out on the hastily made bed.
'I've started dividing by year,' he said, 'I found the one with Tina Winston's daughter listed.' He held up a printout. 'Says the father is Eddy Bunt, thirty-three, born in Tacoma'
Emily took her notebook to Christopher and wrote down the name. She reached for one of the papers and started scanning.
'We'll figure this mess out. We always could, you know.'
She looked up and smiled. 'I know. I just want to know where my daughter is.'
'Me, too'
Her eyes stopped cold on one of the printouts. The mother's name was listed as Bonita Jeffries. The father was Herb La Sift. But that wasn't what nearly cut off her air supply. The birthday was Columbus Day, October 12, the same year as Nick Martin's birth date.
She pointed to the document. 'This could be Nick. Same birthday. I know that from the school records I looked at '
'No shit? There's another here. Bonita Jeffries is the mother and Johnny 'Ace' Wage is the father. Same DOB as La Sift.'
'Boy? Girl?'
'This one's a boy.'
Emily set down her pen, her eyes fastened on Christopher's. 'There's someone else with that birthday, you know.'
He nodded. 'Dylan Walker.'
'That's right.'
'What a lonely woman won't do for love.'
