With a long list of people to contact related to Kinley’s case, Emilie started her day at Daniels, McCarthy & Associates. Rhoda remained adamant that nothing related to Kaylene’s death be investigated from the Haven. After a quick hello to Bella Stoller that turned into a warm chat with the motherly receptionist, Emilie hurried down the hall to the empty office Savannah had opened to her. She’d make her calls and get out before anyone else derailed her with a need to talk. So far, Rhoda hadn’t noticed when she arrived late at the Haven or took a long lunch on occasion, but at some point, she’d ask questions.
Emilie started with a call to Allison Carruthurs, the counselor Kaylene had seen. The woman wouldn’t tell her much in the moment other than she’d had no indication Kaylene planned to use any kind of violence against Robert or the girls.
“Every conversation I had with her was about her strength and how she could escape with the girls. After she told me about how Robert monitored her movements, I knew she must find that strength.”
Emilie paused in her note taking. “What do you mean ‘monitored her movements’?”
“He logged her mileage and matched it against her errands, let her know when she’d gone too many miles. He only gave her the keys when she’d been good. She even told me he seemed to have some way of knowing where she went.”
“You mean following her movements through credit card use?”
“Oh no. That would have required him to trust her with finances. She got cash only if he deemed she’d behaved.” The woman paused. “I don’t want to say too much until I’ve looked at her file, but she commented that he knew her route and where she’d gone.”
“As if he tracked her?”
“Exactly. Might be why he gave her a smart phone.”
Emilie was still thinking about that conversation when her cell phone rang. A minute later she was embroiled in a conversation with Officer Roberts.
“Sorry for the delay returning your call. How can I help you?” The woman’s voice was crisp and focused.
“I wanted some advice.” Emilie quickly filled her in on what had been happening.
There was a moment of silence, then Officer Roberts sighed. “You’re in that place where there’s not enough information for us to act on, but I want you to take precautions.” The woman proceeded to give her the kind of advice Emilie would give her clients. “If you have more incidents be sure to let me know. Keep a running record too. We’ll need that to build a case if this escalates.”
“I’d like to keep that from happening.”
“So would I. Keep me posted.”
Emilie rubbed her temple where tension coiled. “I will. Thank you.”
By the time she reached the Haven around ten, she was ready to call it a day. Taylor followed her into her office, a legal pad at the ready. “A man came in for you and hovered in the lobby for an hour.”
Emilie frowned. “Did he say who he was?”
“No. He unnerved Johanna though.”
The receptionist was usually unshakeable, a requirement for being the guard. “When was he here?”
“She said from nine fifteen to tenish.”
“Okay, I’ll follow up with her.” Was it her stalker or Nadine’s ex haunting the office? Sometimes people got the most twisted ideas about what was an effective use of their time. Emilie tapped the Hunter file where it sat on her desk. “Can you follow up with your police contact to emphasize that this PO has to be served ASAP?”
“Sure. A friend got me a copy of Kaylene’s concealed carry, by the way. It’s on your desk.”
“Okay, I’ll look at it next.” Emilie paused. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Rhoda asked me to send you to her right away.”
“Any idea why?”
“None.”
Emilie rubbed her forehead. This was going to be one of those days, the ones that left her wishing for a quiet afternoon in front of an air conditioner with a glass of iced tea, soft music playing in the background while she read a book by a favorite author. Instead, today she’d slog through, searching for any iota of control she could wrest while she was carried along in a river that thrust her where it chose.
Emilie’s cell vibrated and shimmied across her desk. She grabbed it and glanced at the number. Reid. The river eddied her around another blind bend. “I’ll take his call, then head to Rhoda’s office.”
Taylor shook her head, her shoulder-length curls swaying. “I wouldn’t. Rhoda really wanted to see you now.”
“Okay.” She tapped a text to Reid. Call you in 15? If she was lucky, Rhoda wouldn’t need much from her. “Thanks.”
Taylor nodded and stepped from her office. Emilie collected her thoughts while grabbing a legal pad, but she froze as her office phone rang. The number was one she didn’t recognize, so she took the call.
“Hi, this is Katie Trainer. You left a message?” The girl’s voice was hesitant, but mature.
“Thanks for getting back to me.” Emilie sat in her chair and grabbed a pen.
“Alaina said you wanted to talk about Kaydence?”
“Yes.”
“She said it was okay to talk with you.”
“I knew Kaydence’s mom and am trying to learn more about their family and what happened.”
“It’s still hard to believe she’s gone.” The girl’s voice wavered.
“I know. Did you know Kaydence well?”
“The three of us did everything together. Sometimes the friends you were close with in elementary and middle school fade in high school, but we didn’t let that happen.”
Emilie well remembered those days and the preciousness of friends who stuck with you through the awkward tween days. “Did you know her mom?”
“Sure. We spent the night at Kaydence’s house a few times, and I saw her at events. She seemed like such a nice lady.” There was a pause and then the girl blew out a breath. “Do you think she killed Kaydence?”
“No.”
“But if she didn’t . . . ”
“That’s part of what I’m trying to figure out.”
“You’re the only one who’s asked about Kaydence. I wish the police cared.”
“They do. They’re busy with so many cases, it can be enticing to accept the easy answer, but I want to make sure it’s the right answer.” Emilie considered where to take the conversation. “Did Kaydence get along with her mom?”
“Better than I do with mine. It felt like it was them against her dad.”
“He was so strict, and it drove Kaydence crazy. There was this nice guy from my youth group that she liked, and her dad wouldn’t even let her go on a group date. He wanted to keep her little, but she was headed to college in a couple years. What would he do then?”
“A good question. Did she ever say he hurt her?”
“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did something to Mrs. Adams.”
“Really? Why?”
“There was a time when she dropped Kaydence off, but had a sprained ankle. Another time she had bruises on her arm, but Kaydence said her mom was clumsy.”
“Maybe she was.”
“Maybe, but there was something about the way Kaydence said it that made me think she was reading a script, you know?”
“I do.” She’d seen it before. Clients who had said something so many times, they parroted it even when they knew they could be honest. Kaydence might have wanted to share what happened at home with her friends, but it sounded like she hadn’t. Who provided the script? Mom or Dad? “What was Kaydence like?”
“Smart and quick with words. She always knew what to say. She knew how to get the teachers to love her and how to put a classmate in their place without crossing the line to cruel.”
There was a knock at her door, and Emilie looked up to see Johanna standing there holding a huge bouquet of multicolored roses exploding from a crystal vase. Her jaw dropped and she gestured toward the corner of her desk. “That’s interesting. Why do you think that was?”
“Because it was the only way to survive at home.”
Emilie let the silence build as she waited for Katie to continue. Johanna set the flowers down and then slipped from the office, the scent of roses soon filling the small room.
“You have to understand—Kaydence never said anything that I can point to as proof her dad abused them. But there was always this cloud on her face when she talked about him. It evaporated the moment she’d talk about her mom or Kinley.” There was a loud noise in the background. “I have to go, Miss Wesley.”
“Can I call if I have other questions?”
“Sure. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can.”
“Thank you.”
After she hung up, Emilie took a moment to collect her thoughts and jot them down while Katie’s comments were fresh. There was something about what she’d said—the young woman intuited something more happened behind closed doors, but it wasn’t enough evidence to convince a judge Kinley needed to go home with her uncle. For that to happen, she needed appeal-proof verification that Kinley’s best interests would be harmed if she went home.
And that substantiation seemed impossible.
She tugged the small card from the flowers and opened it. For the loveliest woman of all.
Of course it was unsigned. Could Reid have sent them? She snapped a photo and sent it to Reid with a quick thank you. The bouquet was a little over the top, but beautiful.
Her phone dinged with a text. Robert knows about you.
Reid’s message made no sense. How?
Not sure.
Emilie gathered her legal pad and pen and wove her way through the office maze to Rhoda’s office. The executive director’s office had a bank of windows that were filled with bulletproof glass . . . just in case. The sad thing was those precautions were needed. One corner of one pane had a feathering that marred the smooth surface where a frustrated ex had brought a gun to communicate his anger. Rhoda had placed a beautiful ficus tree in front of it to show her clients beauty could grow in places touched by violence and fear. There was also an abundance of sunlight that created a place of life unhindered by the gauzy curtains that filtered light but allowed it to fill the room.
There was a small oval coffee table flanked by a petite love seat and two stuffed chairs. A box of children’s toys sat on a shelf next to a row of picture books and coloring pages. There were also adult coloring books and an assortment of colored pencils to give the women a distraction while they told their stories. Staring at someone could freeze a person’s story in her chest no matter how much she wanted to talk. The simple diversion of a coloring page could unlock that door.
Rhoda sat behind a small desk with spindly legs, her files in a locked credenza.
Everything about the office was welcoming, just like Rhoda used to be . . . until Kaylene died. The ripple effects of that act were far reaching. Emilie felt the vibrations as she knocked on Rhoda’s open door and walked in.
“Ah, good. I’ve been waiting for you.” Small lines radiated from the corners of her eyes, a tightness to Rhoda’s features that hinted at a tsunami of tension. “Taylor filled you in.”
“On our visitor? Yes.”
“Good. I assume that visit’s related to yesterday’s hearing.”
Emilie nodded as she sank onto a chair in front of Rhoda’s desk. “I think so. The ex was in the courtroom until the judge was ready for us and then disappeared. I’m not certain where he went or why he’d come here today, but it’s logical in a twisted way. I’ll check with Johanna when we’re done.”
“Good. You got the PO?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Rhoda pushed back from her desk and took her reading glasses off. “I don’t like to say things like this, but since you’ll be affected, I feel I should let you know. There’s a strong chance we’re losing our lead funding source.”
“Why?”
“He’s eccentric and doesn’t believe we’re effective enough to prevent situations like the Adams case from repeating.” Rhoda set her hands on her lap, but not before Emilie noted their tremble. “It’s easy to argue we weren’t responsible, but it’s also simple to say we didn’t do enough. Right now I’m losing the debate.”
“Would it help if I could prove Kaylene wasn’t the murderer, that something else happened?”
“Even if you found something, I have two weeks to present the funder with a plan that demonstrates something like that won’t happen again. Anything in the media could be devastating.”
Emilie’s thoughts spun as she took in the injustice. “We can’t control that. It’s the nature of who we work with.”
“You and I know that, but the funder is conveniently forgetting.” Rhoda rubbed around an eye, a gesture unlike her normal poise. “If there was anything I could do to change his mind, I would, but I’ve about exhausted my grand ideas. I’m open to thoughts.”
“Is this our major funder?”
“Yes.”
The reply left no room for caveats or wondering. Something more had to be behind this than the Adamses. “Can you tell me anything more?”
“I’ve already said too much. If you come up with ideas or arguments, let me know.” The phone on her desk rang, and Rhoda reached for it. “Sorry to have such bad news.”
As Rhoda picked up the phone, Emilie nodded and then stood, a plan already forming.