On the way to Mourning Dove Investigations, Virginia spoke on the phone as Emory drove and Jeff sat in the backseat. When she hung up, she let them know, “Juniper said Rue’s going to be okay.”
Jeff patted her on the shoulder. “Thanks to you.”
“Yes,” replied Emory. “We’re lucky the panels hadn’t fully charged.”
Jeff caressed their shoulders. “And most importantly, we have our very first retainer client!”
Virginia shook her head. “All about business.”
“Hey, don’t knock the business. Without the business, Rue Darcé would be lying on a morgue table right now instead of a hospital bed.”
Emory glanced in the rearview mirror. “He is right.”
“Thank you,” said Jeff.
“Ooh!” Virginia faced Emory with a grin. “Speaking of business, are you excited about seeing your new office?”
“I hadn’t even had a chance to think about it with all that’s been going on. I am looking forward to having my own space, not that squatting with you guys hasn’t been fun.”
Jeff told him, “Don’t be surprised if it doesn’t look exactly the way you imagined.”
“What do you mean? I did the design myself. I picked out everything – the flooring, curtains, desk, lighting.”
Jeff replied, “Well, construction is all about interpretation.”
“No, it’s not. I wanted simple, sleek and modern.”
“You mean boring, stark and barfy,” said Jeff.
“What did you guys do?”
“Just some minor reconfigurations of your design suggestions.”
Emory shook his head and looked at his two partners. “They weren’t suggestions. You guys told me I could choose the look of my own office.”
Virginia inhaled through her teeth. “That was before we saw the look. The plans needed some cosmetic surgery.”
“A little nip and tuck.” Jeff pointed at the windshield. “Keep your eyes on the road.”
Virginia placed a hand on Emory’s forearm. “It was for the best. You’ll see.”
Emory was unsuccessful in getting more information from his partners during the remaining two minutes of the drive. He parked across the street and headed for the front door with Jeff and Virginia at his side.
Virginia opened the door. “I hope they didn’t leave a big mess for us to clean up. Oh good, they did clean up after themselves.”
Jeff rubbed a finger on the nearest bookshelf. “Not enough.”
Everything looked the same in the reception area, with the exception of a new high-back sofa bench on the left wall. The blue-gray antique was the width of a love seat, but the button-quilted back rose almost seven feet up the wall.
Virginia nodded toward the bench. “There it is.”
“It’s a door?” asked Emory.
Jeff walked over and ran his hand up the bench’s back. “You know we don’t do standard doors in this office.”
“How do you open it?”
Virginia replied, “Third button across in the third row from the top.”
Jeff waved toward the bench. “After you.”
Emory glanced at the bench’s legs and saw they didn’t touch to floor but were about a quarter-inch above it. He joined Jeff beside it and counted to the button Virginia described in the padded back. The bench moved to the side revealing the entrance to Emory’s new office.
Emory walked in and stood in the middle of the room, spinning around to take it all in. The wall opposite the door was concealed behind several full bookshelves. The office side of the door was a tall landscape painting of the Smoky Mountains, while the wall to the left of the door held a large, detailed map of the state of Tennessee. A seating area in front of the window included four eclectic chairs and a mahogany table. In front of the opposite wall stood a walnut antique desk with a matching swivel chair. “By cosmetic surgery, you really meant a different medical procedure all together.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jeff.
“Cloning. It’s a clone of your office.”
“It’s not a clone.” Jeff ran his hand over one of the bookshelves. “You have completely different books. Yours are mostly reference books, including the entire collection of the ever-riveting Tennessee Legislature volumes so you can look up even the most obscure law in the state. Instead of a mural of the globe on the floor, you have this nice mosaic of a mourning dove in flight. And look at this.” Jeff pushed a button next to the Tennessee map, and it dropped down inside the wall to reveal a massive monitor with a slideshow screensaver of Bobbie. “Your murder board is digital. There’s an app on your laptop to populate it, so no more printing.”
Virginia grinned at him. “What do you think?”
“It’s not what I wanted, but I have to admit, it is pretty spectacular.”
She hugged him. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“It is funny, though. With all the furniture, the space looks smaller than I remember.”
“There’s a good reason for that.” Virginia broke from Emory and searched the bookshelf nearest his desk. “Here it is.” She pulled on a book, and a wall panel behind Emory’s desk opened up.
“It’s a panic room!” announced Jeff. “Once inside, you can lock it so it can’t be opened from the outside.”
“Why would I need a panic room?”
“It’s not just for you,” replied Virginia. “It’s for all of us.”
Jeff explained, “Now that we’re dealing more with murder cases, we thought it would be a good idea to have some added protection so we’re not sitting ducks here.”
Virginia headed inside the panic room and waved them in. “Come on. Let’s check it out.”
Emory walked by the shelf to see which book was pulled. “The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud?”
Jeff pushed him forward. “We can change that.”
Emory walked through the secret door and saw a twenty-by-ten-foot room with a long couch, bunk beds, shelves stocked with food and water, a small desk with a computer and landline, a television mounted on the wall and a stocked gun cabinet. “Are you sure this isn’t a bomb shelter?”
Virginia took stock of the shelves. “We wanted to be prepared for anything.”
Jeff plopped down on the couch. “It’s comfortable. I’m guessing this is a couch and not a sofa.”
Emory laughed. “I’d say so.”
Virginia headed for the door. “All right. I’m going to get settled in.” She left the guys alone in the panic room.
Jeff patted the cushion next to him. “I looked up your name – your original name. I did find some interesting information about your past, but that story has a lot of blanks. Care to fill them in?”
“Like what?”
“You need to tell me what exactly happened when you were a kid and why your dad wanted to kill you.”
“You’re right.” Emory sat on the couch and turned his body to face him. “Here’s what happened.”