* * *
Emerson entered the precinct at eight thirty, feeling like a zombie. She hadn’t been able to shake the thought that if she had sent Stryker home, he’d be dead, his body slammed with bullets. His life over.
Her heart clenched as she entered the crime lab. After completing the paperwork, she dropped off the slugs and shell casings before continuing on to Homicide. As promised, she’d worn her vest, but only to make Stryker wear his. Which he had.
She grabbed a cuppa joe and started reading emails. One from Parker caught her eye.
Detective, here’s an email from my future employer. She mentions the date of my interview, along with my start date. I’m going to give my notice at the club tonight. Good luck catching April’s killer.
Emerson replied. “Thanks for the email. Good luck with your new job.”
Nikki dropped into the guest chair. “How are you holding up?”
“Going through the motions, but my heart is broken.”
“I’m so sorry, and I’m here for you, whatever you need.”
“Thanks,” Emerson replied. “We’re gonna find him.”
“The tip line has been slammed with leads about the Wedding Gown Killer,” Nikki said. “I think every bride-to-be is terrified out of her mind.”
“Real brides aren’t his target,” Emerson said. “Our plan has gotta work, but he’s so cunning.”
“He left Claire-Marie Fox’s cell phone,” Nikki said. “He’ll slip up again or get cocky from all the press. What happened with Parker?”
“His sister verified his story, plus, he took a bunch of photos in Philly that put him there at the time of Gloria Stanton’s murder.” Emerson showed her the email from Parker and brought her up to speed on their conversation. “I’ll verify he interviewed with these companies, but I’m confident he’s not our guy.”
“That leaves us Casey Quinn.” Nikki sipped her coffee.
“And any leads from the tip line.” Emerson’s phone rang. It was Danielle. “I’m gonna take this,” she said to Nikki. “It’s Claire-Marie’s sister.”
“Back to chasing leads.” Nikki returned to her desk.
“Hey,” Emerson answered. “How are you?”
“Hanging in there,” Danielle replied. “Made any progress in the case?”
“I can’t discuss details, you know that.”
“It’s me, Em.”
“No breaks, not yet.”
“My dad was asking about funeral arrangements. What should I tell him?”
“We can’t release the—Claire-Marie has to stay with us until the medical examiner has …” She trailed off. She had to handle this differently. “Tell your parents it’s going to be a few more weeks. Can you suggest a memorial, for now?”
“I’ll mention it.”
“How’s your mom doing?” Emerson asked.
“She’s at home. My brother’s here and he’s been great. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How do you process all this death? I mean, we’ve never really gotten into the details of your work, but this is what you do. I can’t get past my hate. I’m angry all the time now. I fantasize about finding him and killing him. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Emerson’s heart clenched. She wished her best friend was sitting in front of her, so she could comfort her. She wished she could turn time back. She wished she could have saved Claire-Marie. She wished for things she had no control over.
