Conduit (An Emily Monroe Novel) Page 8

  “Detective Aurelio has only attended one other autopsy. It will do her some good to see this one and ask questions. Detective Timmons will guide her questions so she gets used to this part of our job.”

  “I think you just made all that up so you didn’t have to go yourself.”

  Lionel arched his eyebrows and smiled in response.

  The door to the autopsy suite swung open and Perry Weinberg ambled into the hallway wearing a surgical gown, hair net, and shoe covers. He pushed his trademark dark-rimmed glasses around on his nose. Lionel rose from his chair and joined Shawn to face Perry.

  “Well, it’s official,” Perry said. “She wasn’t murdered.”

  Perry’s attempt at humor would have worked better on his assistants, Lionel thought. “Of course she was murdered.”

  “Sorry, boys,” Perry said. “Official cause of death is heart failure caused by myocarditis.”

  “I didn’t play much Scrabble as a kid,” Shawn said. “Is that some fancy new word for murder?”

  “I’m afraid not. It’s inflammation of the myocardium.” Perry peered over the top of his glasses at Lionel’s confused look. “That’s the middle layer of muscle in the heart wall. It could have been caused by something as simple as a virus and it can be fatal, as it was in this case. Her wounds weren’t quite as extensive as the previous victims, so the heart failure could have been her saving grace.”

  “She may have died officially of natural causes,” Shawn said, “but she wouldn’t have died when she did without the torture, so we still have a case of murder.”

  “Which is why I’m ruling it as a homicide,” Perry said.

  “Obviously he didn’t intend for her to die while he was working on her,” Lionel said. “He still had to carve his letter, so he did it postmortem.”

  Shawn rubbed his forehead. “We’ve been under the assumption that he stalks his victims extensively before grabbing them. That way he knows where and how to best take them without any witnesses. If that’s correct, he probably would have known about her medical troubles and not picked her.”

  “An interesting twist, but I think you’re reading too much into it,” Lionel said. “What if she didn’t know about her condition? Even if she did know about it, if she didn’t exhibit behavior during his stalking period to reveal she had a medical problem, then he wouldn’t know she had one.”

  “Again, you are in constant need of my insight to solve your tiresome debates,” Perry said.

  Lionel raised his eyebrows.

  “She didn’t know about the heart condition. When her father identified the body I asked about all medical conditions and any medications she was taking.”

  “And I bet he said she was in perfect health and no meds,” Shawn said.

  “I’ve got her blood off for a rush toxicology screening. That might let us know if your killer gave her any kind of drugs before she died that may have contributed to cause of death, but it will also tell us about any recreational drug use. Her dad also said she didn’t drink alcohol, smoke, or use illegal drugs.” Perry shrugged. “Of course he could be in the dark about the extracurricular activities of his little girl and we’ll see cocaine on her tox screen. I’ll know more when I get the results back.”

  “I can’t say it hasn’t happened like that before with family members not knowing what their loved ones are into,” Lionel said. “But somehow I doubt it in this case. According to the families and tox screens of the other victims, none of them had vices.”

  Shawn frowned. “Do you think there may be something to that?”

  “What do you mean?” Lionel asked.

  “If this guy is picking up women randomly and there are no connections at all in the victimology, there has to be a good chance that at least one of them smoked or drank alcohol. It’s possible that out of six women, one might even experiment with marijuana.”

  “Their families all said they didn’t smoke or drink, and no drugs showed up on their toxicology screenings,” Perry said. “What that means is up to you. I need to get back to work so I can get home at a decent hour and enjoy my day off, instead of playing detective with you two. If I find out anything else I’ll let you know.” He paused at the morgue doors before entering. “Almost forgot. No trace evidence on the body. We searched and searched, but he cleaned her up good, just like all the others.”

  After Perry disappeared behind the autopsy suite doors, Shawn moved closer to Lionel. “Damn the no trace. I keep hoping—”

  “We didn’t expect there would be any,” Lionel said.

  “I am curious about this medical history thing. None of these women drank or smoke. Those odds are pretty slim. Not as many people smoke as they used to so that may not be strange, but at least one of them would have had the occasional alcoholic beverage.”

  “It’s definitely worth looking into,” Lionel said. “Why don’t you check with the families and see if there are any connections, like all of the victims are recovering alcoholics.”

  Shawn grinned. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could tie this to a wayward member of AA? Then we could wrap this up quickly and I could start working on my golf swing.”

  “It would be great,” Lionel said, “but I think the odds of that are slimmer than you learning how to play golf.”

  Chapter Eleven

  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 o
n 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 sh
rink to cure her of being crazy.

  Chapter Twelve

  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.