Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

files.”
    “Hello to you, too.” I pecked the miniature keys of my laptop. It was open on a small desk, wedged between a telephone and two empty Coke cans. I knew Richard was shaking his head but I refused to look at him. “Got some good stuff today,” I said. “I’m feeling very Nancy Drew. Very James Bond.”
    When I finished what I was typing, I leaned back in my chair and waited for him to admit interest. His eyes were red, the skin beneath them sunken and gray.
    Finally, he caved. “Well?”
    I described the clientele and financial files I’d found at the drop zone. “I’ve got the customers, their contact info, and notes about them on the thumb drive.” I nodded toward the drive beside me on the table. Richard lifted it and dropped it into his shirt pocket.
    “The financial part is trickier. That’s where you come in.”
    We installed the Quicken software he’d brought and used it to open the files I’d e-mailed myself. Soon we were paging through screens of spreadsheets and accounts for Gulf Coast Skydiving. Several people on the list appeared to carry a declining balance. I figured Rick and Marie might offer discounted tickets to people who bought jumps in bulk.
    “Let’s figure out who’s on the staff,” Richard said.
    I ran a report to categorize payroll expenditures for the last six months. Richard scribbled names on hotel stationery. He asked me to do individual reports for everyone on the list so we could figure out how long each had worked there. Most had been around for years. Craig Clement had come on board two months ago.
    A few hours later, we’d made a comprehensive list of employees and regular skydivers. We even knew how often each group worked or jumped. It was time to call it a day.
    “If somebody there is involved,” I said, “I’d think it would be a jumper, not staff. Why would a staff member need a jump ticket?”
    “Good question. Another thing you can find out.”
    I slumped. My list of things to do and watch and find out at the drop zone was getting longer by the day.
    By the time Richard left, it was mid-afternoon. I was convincing myself to buckle down and do the work I’d promised Bowman when my cell phone rang.
    The number for BioTek’s main line was on the display. I was glad Jeannie was thinking of me, and it was like her to call at the perfect time.
    But when I answered, I heard, “Glad I caught you. Pete Bowman calling.”
    Well, shit.
    He was brief, making clear in Bowman-esque terms that I was expected back at the office on Monday. There were meetings to attend and butts to kiss, his included.
    “I’d like to see your reports,” he said. “Please e-mail them.”
    The reports I’d been putting off ever since I got to Houston.
    “Of course. Sure.”
    He clicked off the line, and in the silence that followed, I had the feeling he’d called about more than my reports. Either he was suspicious or I was paranoid. Maybe both. Jack would have said I was over-analyzing.
    It was two o’clock in the afternoon and I’d skipped lunch. Too tired to face the world, I called in a pizza. I told myself that after I ate, I would work on Bowman’s stuff for the rest of the afternoon until it was finished.
    While waiting for the heart attack in a box, I picked up my old journal again and flung myself over the bed. I was closing in on the tough parts.
    ***
    April 12—8:45 p.m.
    Had quite a scare at the office today but have calmed down a bit since. Jeannie and I were at my desk, waiting for the Columbus group to tie in for our 1:00 telecon. She was annihilating my M&Ms, yammering on about Sexy Henry. My phone rang, I answered on speaker, but instead of Columbus, it was a lunatic threatening me about Nora’s case! He said, “You’ve got an important meeting coming up, Emily. Be a smart girl when you see those photos.” Then he hung up. Just like that.
    Jeannie said, “Does shit like that actually happen in real life?” And then she smiled and said that was a good joke, I had her going, and she shook a finger at me like…shame on me and she’d be getting even soon. I lost it right there. Bowman walked by right before Jeannie closed my door.
    Who was that? How does he know who I am? And, how does he know where I work, or that I was planning to look at a photo line up of the man I saw with Mattie?
    We reported it to the police. I called Detective Cole in Austin and filled him in too. I feel better now. Jack’s more upset than I am.
    I decided not to tell