Dark Justice(51)
Male or female. My body went cold. She thought I’d killed her father and his employee. She really believed that. No telling what Sergeant Wade had filled her ears with.
The camera moved from Cheryl Stein to a younger woman standing next to her. The reporter identified the second woman as Ashley Eddington, wife of Nathan. Ashley’s face looked hard and sun-browned, dark straight hair hanging past her shoulders. She clutched the hand of a little girl, about five. “I want answers too.” She looked into the camera, her eyes red-rimmed and defiant. “And I think that woman everyone’s looking for—Hannah Shire—has them.”
Her voice held such hatred. My heart folded in on itself.
“Like Cheryl said, we won’t stop until justice is done. If anyone out there has seen Hannah Shire, please, please call the police.” Sudden tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I’ve lost a husband. My daughter has lost her father.” Her face twisted. “That woman doesn’t deserve to live.”
Oh, dear God, help me.
The camera panned down to Ashley Eddington’s little girl. Her expression looked lost, her large eyes sad. She clutched a brown stuffed dog to her chest, his neck encircled with a red-and-white-checkered scarf. Across the back of the scarf I noticed black stitched lettering in all capitals. My gaze bounced away, then tore back to those letters.
What did they say?
Heat flushed my veins. I leaned forward, eyes lasering the TV. The camera pulled in for a closer picture of the girl. I gasped.
The letters spelled RAWLY.
Chapter 27
Emily sprinted toward the back of the parking lot as fast as she could in heels. At the end was a knee-high wall she could climb over. Beyond it lay the parking area for the building facing the opposite side of the block. If she could just get there, maybe hide in the building . . .
Her laptop bag bounced against her hip. She threw a hand over the thing to steady it.
Behind her she heard a car coming down the drive on the side of her work building.
Emily swerved to duck behind a car. She turned too close, hit the bumper, and went down hard. The laptop bag flew off her shoulder. She skidded against the pavement and ripped her pants at the right knee. The skin peeled away. She gasped in pain and gripped her knee. That hurt worse. She pulled her hand away. Her palm was bloody.
Emily tried to breathe.
She grabbed the laptop bag and slid its long handle over her shoulder and head so it wouldn’t fall off again. No way could she lose it—the video and encryption message were inside. She huddled behind the car, listening. Her knee throbbed.
The car she’d heard came closer, then stopped. Turned. Stopped again.
A door opened and shut. She heard footsteps. Was it just someone coming to work late? Or was it him?
Silence. Emily’s muscles were like stone, pulse whooshing in her ears.
Still no sound. She leaned down to look underneath the car. All she could see was the pavement around the cars in the next few rows. She straightened and listened some more. What was he doing?
Fingers against the car’s back bumper for support, she rose up halfway and leaned to her right to see around the vehicle. Nothing. She pulled up a little higher, craning her neck.
There. In profile. In an instant she took in the lanky body, the buzzed hair cut. He was standing by her Kia, looking around.
Emily dropped to the ground, panting. Now what? He had to know she was still nearby and would wait for her to come back.
The footsteps started up again. Coming closer.
Was he checking rows to see if she was hiding?
Sweat dripped down Emily’s forehead, even in the chilly February air. She hung there, trembling, her knee aching.
She looked around the car again.
No sight of him. And no footsteps.
Her heart beat like crazy. What if he’d seen her? He could jump out any minute. Then he’d drag her to his car—
The footfalls sounded again. He was coming toward her.
Emily leaned down to look under the back of the car—and spotted his feet at the front. She froze.
He walked to the right, then disappeared. He must be checking between all cars in that row. If he came down one more row, he’d see her.
She huddled against the bumper for a minute. Then crab-walked around to the left side of the car. All the way up toward the front. She peeked around the edge.
No sign of him.
She stilled. Was he walking down to the next row?
Emily rose up more, peering over the hood. The man was at the end of the row, headed down to the next one—where she’d been hiding. She counted to three, then moved around to the front of the car.
The footsteps neared until she knew he was behind the car, right where she’d been hiding. Then they faded again.
There were two more rows he’d check. Then he’d come back.