Emily Kenyon 01 - A Cold Dark Place

the idea of leaving the scene and not making the call to 911. I could have left Bonnie for someone else to find. But who? And when? Bonnie lived a solitary life. Maybe shed lie on that bloody bed until the blowflies came and went, raising generation after generation?
    Calling 911, doing her sworn duty to uphold the law, was her only possible choice. Yet it came with a price. As the swarm of vehicles converged all around her, Emily knew she’d have to face head-on what she’d fought so hard to leave behind.
    “Emily Kenyon?” the voice came from behind her. Emily turned around to see a familiar face, an older one, but recognizable nevertheless. It was Christopher Collier, a detective she knew from her days in Seattle. They’d shared many of the biggest and toughest moments of her professional life. Seeing him would be tough, too.
    “I couldn’t believe it when I heard your name,” he said, coming closer with a friendly smile on his handsome visage.
    “Hi Chris,” she said, letting the uneasiness that had gripped her pass. “It has been forever”
    “Yeah,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. Like her, he had been nothing but green when they first knew each other at the academy. His still-dark and wavy hairline had receded and he’d added some weight, but overall Christopher Collier looked no worse for wear. “I heard you got your shield. Read it in the Police Bulletin a few years back. Over in Spokane, are you?”
    Emily nodded. “Near there. In Cherrystone, where I grew up. It’s quiet. Nice place for me and Jenna” Saying her name just then was hard, she hoped that it didn’t prompt a question: “Saw that there’s an APB out for your daughter, Jenna. What’s the deal with that?”
    Thankfully, it didn’t.
    The pair went for the front door, as two blue uniforms started unfurling plastic ribbons, yellow crime scene tape.
    “So you called this in? What’s goin’ on?”
    She liked Christopher. In a very real way, it was a gift from the Almighty that he’d been the one to respond to the Jeffries crime scene just then. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t bring up any of the unpleasantness that had made her flee Seattle. At least not to her face.
    “Working a triple homicide back home” She could tell by the look on his face, he already knew about all of that, but she continued anyway. “One of the victims had a connection with Jeffries and…” She stopped as they went inside the front door. “Watch for the glass.”
    He looked down and acknowledged the sparkling shards. “So, what’s this Jeffries woman’s deal?”
    Christopher Collier was a patient man, a broad-shouldered six-footer with a gentle countenance. He could be fierce when needed, but generally was the kind of man who deliberated on everything. Carefully. Thoughtfully. He never rushed. Emily liked him for that very reason. But as she struggled to come up with a good reason why she was there in a house with a dead body, it felt a little as though he was letting her twist in the wind. She told him about the Angel’s Nest connection with her homicides in Cherrystone and how she’d seen Olga Morris-Cerrino, then Tina Esposito, which had led her to Bonnie’s house.
    Bonnie ‘s corpse.
    She led Christopher into the hazily lit living room. “I found her down there in the bedroom. My guess is that she was killed in bed. She sleeps days, works nights. The assailant got in by breaking that window and turning the knob.”
    “Okay,” he said. “Let’s have a look.”
    Emily stayed where she stood. “Your case,” she said. “I’ll stay here”
    The Seattle police detective disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. Emily heard him speaking to another of the detectives, a younger man, whom she did not know.
    “Emily Kenyon,” he said, his voice somewhat lower than normal. “She used to be one of us. Got her butt kicked hard by the Kristi Cooper case”
    “I remember studying that case at the academy. That’s her?”
    “Yeah, she’s okay. Been through a lot. I’ll handle her. Let’s look at the vic”
    Kristi Cooper. Kristi. The name nearly stopped Emily’s heart. If she lived to be one hundred years old, she’d still never get over what happened with Kristi. It was clear that others hadn’t forgotten the name either. No one ever would. Jesus, the police academy taught that? As Emily remained frozen in the living room, a dead woman on the bed, a half dozen police officers and detectives moved in and out