Chapter 3 - DEAD WOMEN DON’T CALL
Emily dropped the phone.
Matthew caught it before it hit the concrete.
“Emily?” the voice said again through the speaker.
No one moved.
The captured man had gone pale.
Matthew lifted the phone.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
Then the line went dead.
Emily backed into the wall.
“No.”
Dr. Ortiz reached for her.
Emily raised one hand.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I know what my mother sounded like.”
Matthew handed the phone to his security chief.
“Trace it.”
The man on the floor laughed.
It was a weak, breathless sound.
“You can’t.”
Matthew looked down at him.
“Try me.”
“It bounced through six relays before it reached the tower.”
“You know that how?”
The man shut his mouth.
Emily pushed away from the wall.
“Who was that?”
He looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“You were terrified of the call.”
“Because calls like that mean somebody knows where you are.”
“Who?”
He shook his head.
Matthew crouched in front of him.
“Name.”
The man smiled through split lips.
“You first.”
Matthew’s face did not change.
“Matthew Carter.”
“No.”
The man’s smile widened.
“Your other name.”
Emily looked at Matthew.
For the first time, she saw him lose control.
It lasted less than a second.
A twitch near his left eye.
A shift in his breathing.
But it was there.
Emily stepped away from both of them.
“Of course.”
Matthew stood.
“Emily.”
“No.”
“There is no other name.”
The man on the floor snorted.
Matthew ignored him.
Emily said, “I get chased out of my house, jump into your car, find out you know who I am, find out you were going to meet Diane, and now the man who was shooting at us knows something about you too.”
“Those facts are connected.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
She turned toward the hall.
Matthew followed but kept his distance.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere without you.”
“You can’t walk on that foot.”
“Watch me.”
She made it seven steps.
Then the pain sharpened and her knee buckled.
She caught herself against the wall.
Matthew did not touch her.
That annoyed her too.
“Say it,” she muttered.
“Say what?”
“That I told you so thing you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Liar.”
“Frequently.”
Emily looked at him.
He almost smiled.
It vanished before she could decide whether she hated it.
Dr. Ortiz appeared with a pair of medical sandals.
“They’re ugly,” she said.
Emily looked down at them.
“They’re horrible.”
“They’re also dry.”
Emily put them on.
The security chief returned ten minutes later.
His name was Marcus Reed.
He placed the captured man’s wallet on a metal table.
Inside was a retired deputy identification card.
JONATHAN PIKE.
Former county sheriff’s investigator.
Retired three years earlier.
Matthew’s expression turned grim.
Emily said, “He worked for Nolan.”
“Before Nolan,” Marcus said.
“Pike was chief investigator under Sheriff Brant.”
“My father knew Brant.”
“Everyone knew Brant.”
“No. My father hated him.”
Matthew looked at her.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
That admission irritated her.
Her father had been full of things she did not know.
Locked drawers.
Conversations that stopped when she entered rooms.
His habit of calling her his little escape hatch, which she had always thought was a joke.
Marcus slid a second item across the table.
A key.
Old brass.
A small red plastic tag hung from it.
A number had been written in black marker.
318.
Emily picked it up.
“Storage unit?”
“Could be.”
“Hotel room?”
“Could be.”
Matthew looked at Pike through the window.
“He wanted us to find it.”
Emily frowned.
“Why?”
“Because men who don’t want a key found don’t carry it in the front pocket of their wallet.”
Emily turned the key over.
There was a tiny scratch on the back.
Not a scratch.
Letters.
E.H.
Her father’s initials.
Her throat tightened.
“Dad had this.”
Matthew said, “You’re sure?”
“He marked everything.”
“With initials?”
“With the point of his stupid drafting compass.”
Her voice broke on stupid.
She looked down.
Nobody filled the silence.
That helped more than sympathy would have.
Marcus cleared his throat.
“There’s something else.”
He turned one of the monitors toward them.
A traffic camera showed three police cruisers at the entrance to the orchard road.
Sheriff Price stood beside the lead vehicle.
He was not wearing a raincoat.
He looked furious.
“Your state police call got forwarded to the county,” Marcus said.
Emily’s stomach sank.
“How long?”
“Six minutes, maybe eight.”
Matthew looked at her.
“You have a choice.”
She laughed without humor.
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“You can stay here while my lawyers contact state investigators and a federal attorney I trust.”
“Or?”
“You can leave with the sheriff.”
Emily stared at the screen.
Nolan Price had attended her father’s funeral.
He had hugged Diane for a long time.
He had touched Emily’s shoulder and told her to call if she ever needed anything.
She remembered the ring on his little finger.
A silver crest.
The same crest Pike had on a chain around his neck.
She turned back toward the holding room.
“Let me ask him one more question.”
Pike was sitting upright again.
His hands remained bound.
Emily held up the key.
“What is 318?”
He stared at it.
For a moment she thought Matthew was right and Pike wanted her to find it.
Then Pike whispered, “Your father’s last mistake.”
“What does that mean?”
“He thought paper could protect people.”
“From who?”
Pike’s eyes moved toward Matthew.
Then back to Emily.
“From men with buildings named after them.”
Matthew’s jaw tightened.
Emily caught it.
“Are you talking about him?”
Pike smiled.
“I’m talking about all of them.”
Outside, brakes squealed on wet gravel.
A voice boomed through a loudspeaker.
“This is Sheriff Price. Emily Hale is believed to be inside. We have a warrant to enter and remove her for emergency psychiatric evaluation.”
Emily’s face went numb.
Matthew turned to Marcus.
“Warrant?”
Marcus checked his phone.
“Signed fifteen minutes ago.”
“By who?”
“Judge Laughton.”
Matthew swore softly.
Emily knew that name too.
Judge Laughton sat on the Hale Foundation board.
Diane had hosted his anniversary party last spring.
Emily looked at the locked entrance.
“They did this in less than an hour.”
Matthew’s voice was flat.
“They prepared it before you ran.”
A cold understanding moved through her.
The locked bedroom had not been the entire plan.
If she fought.
If she escaped.
If she screamed.
Diane had already built the story that would make it meaningless.
Marcus said, “They can’t legally force entry into a private facility without confirming the warrant.”
Matthew looked at him.
“How long to confirm?”
“Three minutes.”
Emily looked at the security feed.
Deputies were moving toward the gate.
Pike leaned forward in his chair.
“You want to know if your mother’s alive?”
Emily turned.
He nodded at the brass key in her hand.
“Then don’t let them take 318.”
May you like
A crash shook the outer door.
And the lights went out.
