The waitress came over and topped off Annette’s coffee. Once she was gone, Annette continued, “I never bought that Emmer would be a threat to Dani or Cassidy, but you never know. I checked him out before you got here, by the way. Wanted to see what he’s been up to the last year and a half, what’s changed in his life. He’s still only got the one property near the university. One vehicle.”
Josie had also dug up everything she could on the man, but she was grateful to have Annette’s help. “No spouse or partner of any kind as far as I could tell.”
“That’s right,” Annette confirmed.
“Not surprising,” Noah said. “Given his obsession with Zara.”
“The issue is that if he took Dani and Cassidy, where would he be keeping them?” Annette sipped her coffee, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on its rim. “It would have to be in his house, which might have the room to hold two grown women, but he lives in a pretty dense residential area. Keeping them quiet would be an issue and trust me, both of them would understand the importance of not staying quiet in a situation like this.”
None of them brought up the unfortunate possibility—probability in Josie’s experience—that both Dani and Cassidy were already dead. It wouldn’t be hard to keep neighbors from discovering the two women inside his home if he’d already killed them. At least until decomposition became advanced. The smell alone would be a problem, but he’d also have to contend with the insect activity, assuming he hadn’t accounted for that by storing their remains in something airtight. The thought made Josie want to vomit up all the coffee she’d consumed in the past hour. Just because she saw such gruesome things on the job regularly didn’t mean she’d ever get used to them.
“I’ll use the bathroom in his house,” Noah said. “It’ll give me a chance to do something of a plain-view search.”
That was Turner’s favorite trick. Annette nodded her approval.
“Can you think of anyone else from Turner’s time here who might target him?” Josie asked.
“Unless he’s keeping a hell of a lot more secrets than that escort, no.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Dustin Emmer looked like a boy who had dressed up as a professor for Halloween. He was average, just like the guy in the video from Dani and Cassidy’s house. Josie and Noah knocked on his front door as he was getting ready for work, which he told them almost a half-dozen times after reluctantly inviting them in. He wore a pair of corduroy pants, despite it being July, and a blue short-sleeved button-down shirt. The vest over the top of it was brown, like his pants. His tie was tightly fastened around his neck and tucked neatly into said vest. All of his clothing looked a size too big. His dark hair was slicked back from his face, stiff with gel.
His home was old, all creaky original wood from the floors to the wainscoting. The glass of the windows facing the street was distorted, as though it had been warped, which told Josie the house had likely been built in the early 1900s and he hadn’t replaced the windows. Clearly, he was going for the turn-of-the-twentieth-century look. Two of the living room walls were covered with bookcases. Every book was vintage, the spines worn, some edged with gilt. The bindings were either leather or cloth. There wasn’t a single modern volume to be found. A musty but not entirely unpleasant old book smell permeated the place.
In the center of the room, two leather armchairs the color of espresso surrounded a small, round table. A pile of books rested on its surface, nearest the recliner that looked the most broken in. Dustin Emmer stood next to it, his hand resting along its back, but didn’t invite them to sit.
“What do you want?” he asked bluntly.
“We’re here to talk to you about Detective Kyle Turner,” Noah said.
A slight widening of his eyes was the only indication that the question put him on alert. “I’m not sure who you mean.”
“He’s the guy you’ve been calling a couple of times a week for the last several years,” Josie said. “You two have a mutual acquaintance.”
“That’s a private matter,” Emmer insisted. His fingers dug into the leather of the chair. Was it fear or anger that had him so on edge? Or both?
“Not anymore,” said Noah. “Where were you Monday evening? Around seven?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“How about between 10p.m. Saturday to 5a.m. Sunday?” Josie asked.
Emmer stared at her as if she’d grown horns. “I don’t remember.”
“You keep a calendar?” Noah said.
“Well, yeah, I— That’s private. I don’t know what you think you’re doing or what this is really about, but I don’t have to answer your questions.”
“No,” Noah said matter-of-factly. “You don’t. That’s your choice. We can speak with your neighbors and your colleagues at the university instead and try to piece together what we need to know.”
Ideally, they’d just get a warrant to search everything associated with Dustin Emmer—house, phone, laptop, office,car—but they had no probable cause. Him harassing Turner for several years wasn’t probable cause. They had absolutely nothing connecting him to either crime. They hadn’t even been able to find a connection between him and the Barnes women besides Turner.
Josie slowly scanned the room. “I’m sure they’d love hearing about that whole librarian thing you’re into. That’s how you came to know Detective Turner, after all.”
A low rumble came from Emmer’s throat. He looked a lot like a bull, nostrils flaring, fists opening and closing. “You have no right.”
“We do,” Josie said. “We also have an obligation. Two women have been murdered and two have been abducted, and we’re short on time, so you can tell us what we need to know and we can go, or we can speak to every person in your life instead. Your choice.”
