The Eyewitness Page 4

  “I think I’m going to love working in trace evidence. It’s a little overwhelming, but one day at a time. Right, Mom?”

  The woman who had always been the family’s foundation blinked away tears and planted on her own pretend smile. Like mother like daughter. There were moments to share grief, and there were times you had to move forward.

  “I’ve met everyone in the lab.” The words rattled from Emersyn’s mouth at top speed. Dead silence wasn’t their friend. “You remember me telling you about Angela McCain after my interview? She’s amazing. There is so much I need to learn from her.”

  She stopped talking the instant her mom set a hand on her arm.

  “I miss him, everything about him.”

  “I know, Mom. Me too.”

  “My one wish for you, my girl, is that you find a man who can love you like your father loved me. God, the sex alone was amazing. And then there was—”

  “Too. Much. Information.” Emersyn placed her hands over her ears and laughed out loud. Her parents had never hidden their love for each other. At times, she suspected they went into lip-lock just to get Nathan, Tessa, and her to leave the room and give them some peace.

  “You weren’t created on a tree branch, dear.” She took Emersyn’s hands between hers. “The love of a good man is a gift. I’m giving you a little more time before I start to nag.”

  “Mom . . . ”

  “It’s not good for you to hide away in this house. Your father wouldn’t want that, and you know it.”

  “Dad wanted me to wear my blouses buttoned to the throat and be in every night by nine.”

  “Well, of course,” she said with a laugh. “He knew exactly what went on in the minds of your young men.” She wrinkled her brow. “I can’t count the number of nights he laid awake waiting for his little chicks to return to the nest.”

  “I was so hard on him. I wish I could—”

  “Don’t do that to yourself. If he didn’t have you to worry about, his mind would have never left that damn file on his desk.”

  Emersyn’s heart skipped. “What file?”

  “All of them. Each one got under his skin. It wasn’t me who took that haunted look from his expression every evening after work. It was you, Tessa, and Nathan.” Her mother pulled her winter coat off the hook. “All I’m saying is it’s time for you to get back into the world. When was the last time you went out with your friends?”

  Tears burned behind Emersyn’s eyes. She was such a hypocrite. There was no way she could go out with her friends knowing her father’s killer was still out there. “I can’t laugh, enjoy myself when—”

  “That bastard is walking free. I get that because I feel the same way.” She tenderly brushed Emersyn’s hair off her forehead. “You have worked so hard to reach this place in your life. If you allow your father’s murder to consume every joyful moment, the killer wins, again.”

  “Please don’t tell me to keep out of it.”

  “If you need help, come to me. I was married to a cop for two-thirds of my life. I know a few things.”

  Emersyn let her mother wrap her arms around her and held on tightly until a horn honked in the driveway. She pulled away, swiping the moisture from her cheek. “I’ll do that. You have my word.”

  Nothing else was said while her mother gathered her leather gloves and purse and left the house. As soon as Emersyn had made sure her mother was safely in her aunt’s car, she locked the door and set the alarm. She spent the next hour playing with her meal while her favorite drama played out on the screen on mute.

  This impulse set in motion by Oliver’s visit at lunch was a crazy idea. But . . . could there be evidence in that tree that the CSI team missed? There was only one way to find out.

  She returned her dishes to the kitchen and headed upstairs. This was her stupidest idea to date. Late February weather in Maryland was cold, icy, and completely unpredictable. It was black as a skunk in those woods off the trail, but it had also been her playground as a kid. There wasn’t an inch she hadn’t explored. The likelihood anything had been left behind was slim to none, but she wouldn’t rest until she knew for sure.

  She changed into her winter hiking gear and slipped a dark wool cap over her head. Downstairs, she entered her father’s study and opened the door to the small coat closet. From the top shelf, she took down a metal box and balanced it on her knee. Everyone in the house could open the box but never dared touch it.

  Lifting the lid, she removed her father’s extra revolver and loaded the magazine. After checking that the safety was in place, the gun went into her front coat pocket. She checked her penlight, made sure the gloves and evidence envelopes were in her back pocket, and left the house through the French doors in the back. Jumping the chain-link fence, she took off at a slow jog through the woods, giving her eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness.

  The crime scene search officers would have been on-site immediately after the shooting, while Emersyn was still in surgery. Since no one bothered to share anything with her, she’d spent most of her healing time studying the ballistic trajectory. Once she was back on her feet, she’d walked this trail numerous times, so she knew the tree in question as well as she knew her middle name.

  The sturdiest branch within reach was a good six and a half feet high. With a good jump, she gripped a limb and climbed the trunk until she was high enough to lift herself into a standing position on the trunk.

  There was a time in her life when she’d wished she could live in a tree. Her definition of heaven was saddling a high branch with a good book, soaking in the warm breeze as it shifted through the leaves. Since no one ever looked up, she could watch over the neighborhood below and pretend she was invisible.

  That was a good fifteen years ago, and the magic had disappeared. She tucked her collar tight around her neck as a chill shivered down her spine. Using her penlight, she spotted the cluster of branches she would have used to get a clear shot. Ten feet, another fifteen to go. Easy peasy.

  After a slow, steady climb, Emersyn placed her left foot on one branch and wedged the other into a groove in the trunk. Leaning her full weight forward, she rested her torso on a bough at the V between two branches. In this position, the bastard would have blended into his surroundings until his mark came into view.

  She fingered an indention through her glove in a cross branch. Shit! This is the spot. Tugging the glove on her right hand off with her teeth, she moved her fingers over the bark until she found what she was looking for: two grooves that the base of the rifle would have left behind. The Bushmaster was a heavy weapon. He would have used the branch to steady his shot.

  Nausea roiled in her stomach. She took in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. This wasn’t the time to freak out. She was here to do a job.

  After replacing her wool gloves with latex examination gloves, she slowly moved the penlight over every inch of bark, searching for fabric fibers, skin, hair—any trace evidence that could be used to find this guy. After thirty minutes, her fingers grew so numb, she almost dropped the light. She had gone over the entire branch three times, inch by agonizing inch.

  Emersyn glanced at her watch and pulled her wool gloves over the latex. Welcoming heat slowly brought life back into her chilled fingers. Her mother would be home in less than an hour. That left time for a five-minute break before she went over the entire area one more time. The last thing she wanted was for her mother to come home and find her gone. Alec or Oliver Gates would be the first calls she’d make before bringing in the cavalry: Nathan.

  She rolled her shoulders and stretched. Using her right leg as leverage, she reached both arms over the cross branch and pulled herself higher. Her neighborhood below appeared so calm and peaceful. But that was an illusion.

  Emersyn hadn’t dared glance in the direction of the bike trail, but for the life of her, she couldn’t keep her eyes from zooming in on the spot now.

  The scent hit her first, the coppery stench of blood mixed with dirt and p
ine. Then an excruciating pain shot through her chest, and her lungs emptied. She sucked in a breath, one after another. Nothing. She couldn’t exhale. The night sounds were soon drowned out by the roar of her heart drumming against her rib cage.

  A dead quiet settled around her as the feel of time slowing down made her dizzy. She wasn’t experiencing a bird’s-eye view of the area but a view through the scope of a rifle. Her father stood below, his full body centered in the crosshairs. The recoil from the blast almost sent her into a free fall to the ground.

  Her arms clutched the branch, the bark cutting into her palm. It was all in her head, every smell, the deep wrenching pain in her chest, and the silence. Dear God. What was wrong with her? She closed her eyes tightly and took in another cleansing breath as she erased the vision from her mind.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Alec!

  His forced whisper permeated her fear and pain. She opened her eyes and glanced down the trunk. He stood like a statue, his heated glare peering through the branches at her. Hell, she was glad to see him.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Don’t you dare fall out of that fucking tree.”

  “I don’t fall out of trees.”

  His stance relaxed a little. “Are you all right?”

  I’m scared out of my mind. Emersyn bit down on her lips to keep the thought caught in her throat. “I need a minute.”

  He let out a groan and jumped for the first branch. Before she could tell him to stay where he was, he was balanced right behind her, the heat of his body calming her drumming pulse.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Em, I don’t want to hear those two words one more time today.” His hand settled over hers. “Loosen your grip.”

  “I can’t.”

  Her fingers had grown numb, but if she loosened her grip, she would roll right out of the tree.

  “Let go.”

  When she didn’t respond, he lowered his lips to her ear. “I got you.”

  The tenderness in his voice shattered what remained of the hellish visions, and she let out a deep breath clogging her lungs.

  “Relax your back against me.”

  Emersyn inched her hands back, and her index finger brushed over something in the bark that didn’t belong there. She tugged her glove off to get a better feel.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s something on the underside of this branch. Hold me,” she said and dug her nail into the bark around the object.

  “Em, it’s bird shit. Let go of the branch and scoot down toward me.”

  She worked her nail around the object and peeled it off the bark. She pulled the latex off her palm and caught the wood chunk inside the glove. Easing her grip on her right hand, she slipped down the branch until her foot was again lodged in the wedge in the trunk. She tucked the glove into her pocket and faced Alec.

  “Thanks.”

  His hand went to her waist, and he drew her back to him. Pain shot into her fingers as the numbness faded. She swallowed the groan.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your mom called me.”

  She glanced at her watch but couldn’t focus on the hands.

  “She came home and couldn’t reach you on your cell. Your car was in the driveway. She called me because she’s worried about you.” His eyes hardened. “Don’t take that out on her.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Ten thirty.”

  A new kind of fear crept through her. How in the hell did she lose an hour?

  Chapter Five

  Grace D’Azzo met them at the door in her bathrobe, concern etched in every feature. Emersyn kissed her cheek. “Sorry, Mom. I was restless and went for a walk. Lost track of the time.” As much as she wanted to tell her where she’d been, the lie came easier.

  “The bike trails aren’t safe at night—”

  “I know.” She placed her arm around her mother’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug. “I walked around the loop, trying to clear my head. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  Alec stepped around them. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  For the second time that night, she wanted to hug Alec. He was attempting to distract her mother, and it was working.

  “I made a fresh pot.” Her mother gave Alec a quick smile and draped his jacket over the back of the sofa. She fussed over a wrinkle in the wool, hiding a tear that escaped the corner of her eye. “I never understood how you and Joe could guzzle caffeine day and night and still sleep.” She placed a hand on Alec’s sleeve. “I shouldn’t have asked you to race over here, but thank you.”

  “It was no trouble. You can always call me, Grace.”

  Her mother nodded toward the kitchen. “You know where everything is. Help yourself to the coffee, and there’s chocolate cake with your name on it.” She tugged the sash of her bathrobe a little tighter. “Emersyn will join you in a couple minutes.”

  Emersyn waited until he was out of earshot before asking, “What are you up to, Mom?” The thought of spending more time alone with Alec made her as nervous as climbing down the tree.

  “I’m not exactly dressed for company.”

  “It’s Alec. You’re always saying how he’s family.”

  Her mother’s body language changed into the look: arms crossed at her waist, lips pinched, and brow raised to her hairline as her finger tapped out a steady beat on her arm. “It’s been a long day. I’ll give you until tomorrow to come up with a more truthful response.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Emersyn, you were not on a walk to clear your head, and you gave me your word you would not keep things from me. We will discuss this.” Each whispered word rose in pitch.

  Emersyn could feel Alec’s glare on her back. Her mother drew her into a quick hug and headed up the stairs.

  Damn. She eyed the kitchen then the front door.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Alec said, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in his hand. He took a sip, never taking his eyes off her. “We need to talk.” He eased back into the kitchen, his expression daring her to make a run for it.

  Ass. Resigned, she dropped her coat next to Alec’s jacket and joined him. She filled her favorite mug, sliced two pieces of cake, and dropped into the kitchen chair across from him. “I appreciate you helping Mom.”

  “What happened to you in that tree?”

  “No ‘You lost your mind’ or ‘What the hell were you thinking’?”

  “Waste of breath. Your mind started clicking the instant Gates mentioned the damn sniper nest. I should have come directly here after my shift and sat on you.”

  “You pompous jerk. I would like to see you try.”

  He took a slow sip, and then the tip of his tongue darted over his bottom lip as his gaze dared her to break their connection. She remembered those lips. Soft. Tender. Demanding.

  “Em, I’m not leaving until you answer my question.”

  She shook her head, clearing the thought. A lie hadn’t work a few minutes earlier, and she didn’t have the energy to come up with another one. “I can’t explain it.”

  “Try.”

  “I searched the trunk and branch three times before I moved farther up to the area the sniper would have rested his weapon.” The next words clogged in the back of her throat. She shut her lids tight to keep the images away.

  “And?”

  The one-word question came out tender, gentle. He was holding an interrogation at her kitchen table and pretending to be a nice cop. One thing she’d learned the hard way was that Alec Pearce wasn’t nice. So why was he handling her so carefully?

  Clearing her throat, she forced the words out. “I glanced down at the spot Dad . . . ”

  “Did you black out?”

  “No, not exactly. It was more like I relived everything that happened, but at the same time, I watched it all take place from the sniper’s point of view.”

  “How much ti
me did you lose?”

  How did he know?

  “About an hour.”

  He shoved out of his chair, his hand raking through his dark-brown waves with such force she was surprised he didn’t pull the hair out by its roots. “Next time, call me.”

  “So, you can talk me out of it.”

  He stalked in close, his breath warm on her neck. “No, so I can keep you from killing yourself. I don’t want to hear that fear in your mother’s voice again.”

  “That’s a low hit, even for you.”

  He dropped into the chair next to her. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” His expression softened. “I made a promise to your dad, and I intend to keep it.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to share information on the case with me?”

  “No, this means since I can’t lock you up in this house, I’m going to keep your cute ass out of trouble.”

  Heat burned in her cheeks. “Sometimes, Pearce, I really hate you—like now.”

  He let out a hard laugh. “I can accept that. Will you call me?”

  It wouldn’t have been terrible having him there tonight. But did she want him underfoot? Could she spend time with him in close quarters without wanting to throw her fist at his stubborn chin every other minute? The look that had been on her mother’s face made the decision for her.

  “Fine. I’ll call.”

  He nodded then asked, “What was on the bark?”

  She removed the folded glove from her pocket. Opening a small evidence envelope, she shook the bark into it and sealed it closed. “It’s a used Band-Aid.”

  “That could belong to anyone.”

  “It’s not anyone, and you know it.”

  He took his time making his slice of cake disappear and then set his fork on the edge of the plate. “I’ll hand it in to be processed.”

  “No. I’ll do it myself.”

  Alec opened his mouth to argue, but she was ready.

  “I won’t have you covering for me. If this has Dad’s killer’s DNA on it, it will never be admissible in court after all this time. What it will hopefully do is give us a lead.”