The Chain of Lies

CHAPTER 4



Saturday morning, Emily woke up thinking about the address book. She had lain in bed the previous evening, scouring it, looking for anything else that might make sense to her. Nothing did. It seemed to be a jumble of cryptic names and phone numbers, sometimes followed by other numbers that made no sense at all. She assumed it must have been some kind of code that Evan would have understood, but likely no one else.

For safekeeping, she had tucked it under her pillow, sleeping with her phone and gun on the night table and her purse nearby. Someone had been searching for something in her house, likely the gun from the safe deposit box, and they weren’t going to stop until they found it. If someone had been in her house Thursday night while she talked with Isabel about the book and the boxes in the storage unit, it was possible they’d be after that information, as well.

Emily had half expected an intruder on Friday, keeping her guard up throughout the day, but it had been a quiet day. She’d spoken with Colin on the phone a couple of times, received a few texts with photos attached from Maggie and Molly, and got a call from Isabel asking when she could get a peak at the contents of the storage unit.

After hitting the shooting range in the afternoon, a kickboxing class in the early evening, and receiving a reminder call from Camille about the brunch for her brother Peter, she’d stuck a frozen meal in the microwave and watched a romantic comedy on the television before heading to bed. Nestled under the covers, she stayed up late studying the black book.

The bright morning sunlight streaming in her bedroom window told Emily she’d better drag herself out of bed and get ready for Camille’s brunch or she’d be late and have to make her apologies. She hated making apologies.

A quick shower, a dollop of hair mousse, a few blasts of hot air on her loosely tousled curls, and a dab of make-up was all she would need and she’d almost be ready to head out the door. She chose a deep turquoise top, which her friends all said played up her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, and her black jeans which she knew hugged her tush and legs in just the right places.

Was she trying to impress the guest of honor? No. Looking good simply boosted her self-confidence and lifted her spirits, although making a good impression in front of Peter would make Camille happy.

She thought of Colin and smiled, wishing he was going to the brunch with her. Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror, she stopped and did a once over, thinking how pleased Colin would be with what he saw.

Autumn was just around the corner, making the morning air crisp and cool. Emily pulled on her short black-leather boots, with just enough spiked heel to make her legs look longer. She stuck her gun, her phone, and the little black book in her large leather purse, slung it over her shoulder, and she was out the door.

~*~

“Knock, knock,” Emily called out as she walked through Camille and Jonathan’s front door. She could hear music and conversation coming from the open kitchen and family room at the rear of the house.

“We’re back here!” she heard Camille holler.

Isabel and Alex had already arrived. Isabel hugged her as she entered the open great room area. Alex and Jonathan were sitting on the couches, deep in conversation with Peter. Camille fluttered about the kitchen, putting the last minute touches on the delicious spread she had prepared.

After Isabel greeted her, Emily walked over to Camille at the stove, gave her a sideways hug, and asked if there was anything she could do to help.

“Oh, you haven’t met my brother yet. Here, let me introduce you, then you can help me cut up the fruit and take the muffins out when the buzzer goes off.” She grabbed Emily by the hand and led her over to where the men were seated.

“Peter MacKenzie,” Camille said, which caused her brother to rise to his feet, “this is my friend, Emily.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter MacKenzie.” Emily stuck out her hand, expecting to shake his. Rather, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips and gave it a light kiss. She wanted to draw it back, but for fear she would offend him, she let him hold it a moment until he released it.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said in a deep voice, perfect for television.

Peter looked down at her with his brilliant blue eyes—just like his sister’s. He even had red hair, like Camille did, but his was more of a deep auburn. He was tall and lean, six three or four, she guessed, with sparkling white teeth that filled out a perfect smile. “Would you like to sit with us?” he asked, gesturing toward the couch he had been sitting on.

“Thanks, but no, I promised Camille I’d help her in the kitchen.”

“Well, let’s talk later. My sister tells me you’re a private investigator, and I find that fascinating.”

The timer on the oven beeped loudly, alerting Camille the muffins were ready to come out.

“We’d better get back and tend to the food so we can eat.” Camille hooked her arm through Emily’s and walked her back to the kitchen area.

Within minutes Camille announced the food was ready. Spread across the long breakfast bar there were platters of two kinds of quiche, a sausage frittata, cinnamon-swirl french toast, thick slices of bacon, crispy hash browns, blueberry muffins, and fruit compote with strawberry whip. Stacked at the end were the plates, napkins, and silverware.

“Grab a plate and serve yourself, guys,” Camille instructed. “Nobody’s waiting on you in this house.”

The six of them sat around the dining table and enjoyed all Camille’s hard work and talent. Peter took a seat next to Emily and they shared friendly conversation and enjoyed the food. She found him interesting and easy to talk to with stories about his work, the places he’d traveled to, and his plans for the future at his new job in Seattle.

Though he shared quite a bit about himself, he often peppered his conversation with questions about her life and her work, which gave their exchange a nice balance. He told her about some of the stories he’d covered and she told him about some of the cases she had worked. He made her laugh a few times, but he also shocked her when he described a story he had covered recently on the trafficking of sex slaves in the United States. Occasionally, the other guests joined in on their conversation, but mostly it was just between the two of them.

When the food was consumed and the conversation died down, Emily took her plate and Peter’s to the kitchen and laid them in the sink. While the others enjoyed their coffee around the table, Peter picked up the remaining plates and silverware and brought them to the kitchen and offered to help Emily stick them in the dishwasher.

“There’s no need to do that, Peter.” Emily smiled at his helpfulness.

“Like Camille said, nobody’s waiting on me in this house. We all pitch in.”

“All right, then. If you insist,” she teased.

~*~

On her drive home, Emily’s phone began to ring and she saw it was Camille.

“Hello,” she answered cheerfully.

“Hello, there, Emily. This is Peter.”

Emily was startled a bit at the man’s deep voice. “Oh, I was expecting Camille.”

“She lent me her phone—you know, roaming charges. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tonight.”

“Dinner? Tonight? You mean with you and Camille and Jonathan?”

“No, I mean with me. Nothing fancy, just somewhere casual.”

For a moment she thought she’d say yes, it would be fun. Certainly better than sitting home alone on a Saturday night, but then she remembered Colin. How would she feel if he took another woman out to dinner, even a casual and friendly one?

“I’d better not.”

“I don’t understand. I thought we had a connection today. Or was I the only one who felt it?”

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, he seemed like a great guy, not to mention the fact he was her dear friend’s brother, but she had to be honest with him. “I like you, Peter. I had fun talking with you today. But…well, it’s just that I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh, I see. I didn’t realize. Camille didn’t say anything. I would have thought she would have invited him over this morning, too.”

“He’s out of town for a little while, but he should be back soon.” Or at least she hoped he would be. “I think you guys would really hit it off.”

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Emily peeked up at her rearview mirror and noticed a black sedan four cars back. She made a sharp right turn at the next corner to see if the car stayed with her. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’d better say no. Sorry.”

She looked again in her mirror and the car was still there. She hung another sharp right and checked again. This time the car was gone. Coincidence? There were a lot of black cars on the road—still, until the mystery was solved, she’d have to stay vigilant.