Emily Kenyon 01 - A Cold Dark Place

have rolled her eyes. If she had been with someone she trusted, like Christopher, she’d have threatened to call in to the show.
    Who cares about the price of gas when our lives in general are so screwed up? Who cares about anything when your daughter is missing?
    Refusing to wait with her daughter’s safety on the line, Emily knocked on the door marked with a black plastic label- 703’/2-and held her breath. She’d never seen Dylan Walker except in photographs. It had been a long, long time. Prison years were like dog years-times seven or ten. She doubted he’d still live up to his nickname: Dash.
    “Are you looking for Dan?” A voice came from a graying man with rounded shoulders, a bright pink nose, and wireframed glasses that gave him the distinct countenance of a skinny Santa. He was cutting grass.
    “Dan?” Emily looked puzzled.
    “Yup. Dan Walker. He’s not there”
    Dylan Daniel Walker. She processed the information. It would be a violation of his parole if Walker had taken on an other name to hide who he was. But using his middle name was fair game.
    “He’s been gone for a while. Lost his job at the hospital a week or so back. Maybe he’s out looking for work. Hope so. I’m his landlord, I can take a message”
    “No message” Emily showed her detective’s badge and the old man acknowledged it. “Just waiting for another officer to arrive.”
    “Let me know.” He didn’t ask any questions, which surprised her. Instead he brushed his sweaty brow, nodded, and went back to his yard work. “Might rain soon,” he said.
    Emily was about to take a seat on the railing by the front door when her cell phone rang. She flipped it open. The voice wasn’t familiar at first, but her words were.
    “Can I put you on the air?”
    It was Candace Kane, the reporter from the Spokane radio station.
    “No, you cannot,” Emily said, wondering how the reporter got her hands on her cell number. The number she always gave out went through dispatch-a landline. “I’m in the middle of something here”
    “I know. I heard about Bonnie Jeffries. You found her,” she said. “That’s why I’m calling.”
    Emily felt some relief. The call hadn’t been about denna. “Candace, I know you’re just doing your job, so I know that you’ll understand that I’m just doing mine. I can’t comment on the investigation. For one thing, it’s not my place to do so-this is a Seattle case”
    “Yes,” Candace said, “I understand that. But you’re over there in Seattle because of a connection between the Martins and Angel’s Nest. Bonnie Jeffries worked for Angel’s Nest. Right?”
    “Look,” Emily said, her patience rapidly evaporating, “you apparently already have better sources than me”
    She noticed Christopher parking out front, and very abruptly the phone call was over.
    “Sorry, I’m late,” he said, coming to her. “Got the warrant, here.”
    “He’s not here,” she said. “Landlord’s over there. He’ll let us in.”
    On seeing them talking about him, the landlord ambled over.
    “Now there are two of you,” he said, squinting into the sun. He looked at Christopher only-one of those men who are blind to a female cop when there’s a choice between a man and woman with a badge. “What can I do you for?”
    “We have a warrant to search this apartment,” Christopher said, holding out the folded papers.
    He waved the warrant away. “No need. I follow the law. When you’ve lived in this neighborhood you see a fair amount of those. Of course it wasn’t always that way. We’re supposedly a neighborhood in transition. To what I ask?”
    “Sir, I can only imagine,” Emily said as he fished in his front pocket for his keys.
    “Found ‘em,” he said. “What’s Dan done to get all this fuss?”
    Christopher started to answer. “We can’t say-“
    He cut off Christopher with a quick, “yeah, yeah … I know the drill. I’ll wait outside. Leave the place as you found it please. Otherwise the wife and I will have to clean it up. We can’t afford to call in any more help, you know. Fixed income.”
    “All right,” Emily said. She put on her rubber gloves. Christopher did the same.
    “You won’t find anything nasty in there,” the landlord said. “Dan is the neatest fellow you’ll ever meet”
    Christopher held the door and the pair retreated inside. The apartment was in perfect, almost boot-camp-barracks order. Nothing suggested that Dylan Walker was anything but the