Killer Insight

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, smiling, “I remember that.”

  “And who helped the Robertsons find Collin?”

  The Robertson family had lived on the opposite side of the McGinnises. Collin was the youngest member. One day he was playing hide-and-seek with a bunch of us kids from the neighborhood, and somewhere in the middle of the game he’d disappeared. Someone finally noticed that he was missing and had raised the alarm. While his frantic mother and other parents scoured the neighborhood, I’d suddenly had a vision of Collin in the Fishmans’ attic, two doors down. I’d told Collin’s mother what I’d seen and sure enough she found him exactly where I’d said he’d be. He must have sneaked into the house when no one was looking, made his way upstairs to the attic and fallen asleep on some old quilts.

  “And your point is?” I asked.

  “Hell, you’re better than a bloodhound, Abs. If we have a prayer of finding Gina, something tells me your radar’s gonna get it done.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, a smile creeping onto my face.

  A little while later we pulled into a rather sizeable apartment complex laid out in one big loop of large block buildings. We cruised around the place, finally locating the rental office on the opposite side of the complex.

  After a brief explanation to the woman behind the desk at the rental office, and the flashing of Duffy’s badge, we were given a key and directions to Gina’s building. “Did you want to come with us?” Duffy asked the portly woman with carrot-red hair.

  “No way. The last time you guys came through here looking for someone who hadn’t shown up for work, I was the first person through the door and the first to see he’d blown his brains out. There’s no way I’m going to repeat that nightmare. Just tell me what you find,” she said, and turned back to her computer.

  Duffy and I headed back into the car, drove the short distance to Gina’s apartment and parked. Duffy didn’t get out right away; instead, he turned to me and said, “You can stay here, you know. You don’t have to come in.”

  “You think she might have killed herself?” I asked.

  “It’s possible. I mean, I really thought Gina had her act together, but hearing that someone you love has found someone else can be a pretty tough thing to handle.”

  I smiled at him. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

  “Yeah, anyway…” he said, looking at the key in his hand. “You want to stay here?”

  “No. If she’s not in there I might be able to get a bead on her energy. I’ll just keep a safe distance until we know for sure.”

  “Okay then,” Duffy said, and we got out of the car. We headed up to the second floor and Duffy knocked loudly on the door, his head bent, listening for any noise from inside. We waited a couple of beats and he tried knocking again. “Gina? It’s Duffy. You in there?”

  Nothing happened, so he inserted the key and opened the door. We walked into her apartment, and I’ll admit I was a little apprehensive. It seemed such an invasion of privacy to enter someone’s home uninvited.

  Gina’s apartment was laid out in a somewhat classic design. We entered into her living room, a small kitchen and dining area off to our left. Straight ahead at the end of a hallway we could see into a bedroom, and I could just make out a door off either side of the corridor, one for what must be a bathroom and the other for a possible second bedroom.

  “Sit tight,” Duffy said over his shoulder and moved through the living room. “Gina?” he called again. “Gina, it’s Duffy. Are you here?”

  I watched as he made his way down the hallway, only now noticing that he’d tucked his hand under his jacket. I assumed he had it resting on his holstered gun, and with a pang of remorse I remembered sharing a similar experience with another cop.

  Duffy paused at the door to his left, then opened it slowly. He disappeared through the doorway, and a moment later I heard the sound of a shower curtain being pulled to the side. After a beat he appeared again. “Nothing there that shouldn’t be,” he said to me before opening the other door directly across from the bathroom. I waited as Duffy moved from room to room, peeking in closets and looking behind doors.

  “She’s not here,” I said when he’d finished.

  “Nope. And there’s a big fat suitcase sitting in her closet. If you were on your way to see your boyfriend, wouldn’t you pack a big suitcase?”

  “I would,” I said, coming farther into the living room.

  “Here,” Duffy said, pulling a small frame off the wall in the hallway. “This is Gina and Mark. Take a look and tell me what you think.”

  I took the photo and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to gather my radar before aiming it at the photo. I’m not great with photos, other than being able to tell if someone’s died, but I was going to do my best. When I opened my eyes I focused all of my concentration at the photo. I got a foggy image in my head, but nothing really clear. After a minute I said, “Hold on,” and headed into Gina’s bedroom. I looked around the room and toward her dresser. There, in a small dish, was a wristwatch. I walked over to pick it up when I noticed a blue box to one side with TIFFANY & CO. across the top. I almost opened the box, but decided the watch was the better way to go. Crossing my fingers, I walked over to it and picked it up, then went to the bed and sat down on it, holding the watch and the photo. I then stared at the picture as I held the watch tightly and focused, trying to get a bead on Gina’s energy. After a moment I looked up at Duffy and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m definitely getting the feeling she’s dead. I just don’t get the same thread of energy off her that I do for a living person.”

  “Can you tell what happened to her?” Duffy asked, watching me closely.

  I closed my eyes and focused, holding on to the watch and wrapping my energy around it. After a moment I physically flinched. “Ow!”

  “What?” Duffy asked, alarmed.

  “Something happened to her here,” I said, making a circular motion over my chest with my hand. “Something that hurt…a lot.”

  “A car accident?”

  “Maybe…” I concentrated on the sharp pain that had punctured my energy three distinct times. “I feel this sharp stabbing pain here”—pointing to my right breast—“then here”—indicating my breastbone—“and here,” I finished, pointing to my heart. “Bang, bang, bang,” I said, and repeated pointing to the three places.

  Duffy was looking alarmed as he asked, “Did you say ‘bang’?”

  I nodded back at him. “Yeah. Bang. But more like boom! I keep hearing this explosion in my mind.”

  “She was shot,” Duffy said gravely.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “But who would shoot her?”

  “Abby, can you see where she is? She obviously wasn’t killed here. Where is her body?”

  I scowled. I hated this stuff. Now that I knew Gina had been murdered, it made my job so much more distasteful. Murder carries an energy that is heavy and thick and feels intuitively like being covered in slime. Still, if Gina and I had reversed roles, I would hope that she would do everything she could to find out where I was and bring me back for a proper burial. Squaring my shoulders, I closed my eyes again and thought, Come on, crew! Show me where she is!

  Almost immediately I saw the color green and the image of a star. I felt moisture, then intense heat while an acrid smell filled my nostrils. I waited, but nothing else appeared in my mind’s eye, even though I was pushing my guides for more. Finally I opened my eyes and sighed heavily. I had no idea what these images meant. “Do you have a pad of paper?” I asked.

  Duffy reached into his jacket, pulling out a small pad and a pen. I took it from him and began to scribble on it. I wrote down “green,” followed by “star,” then “wet,” then “hot” and finally “ash.” Next I let the pen hover over the pad of paper, waiting for a shape to form in my mind. When I had it I began to draw a rough sketch. I began with a box in the center of the paper and on this I wrote “green” and “star.” Next I drew a line that ran along the bottom of the
page. This I labeled “black” and “hard.” Finally I drew a fan on the side of the box that I’d labeled “green” and I wrote “heat.” I handed the drawing to Duffy and said, “I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”

  Duffy looked at the drawing intently for long seconds before closing the notebook and tucking it away. “You ready to go?” he asked me.

  I nodded and walked the picture back over to Gina’s dresser, where I laid it down. I was about to set the watch back in its dish when I thought better of it and turned back to Duffy. “Can I keep this?” I asked. Duffy cocked his head, giving me a questioning look, and I realized how that must have sounded. “Not forever,” I quickly explained. “It’s just that I’m getting a little residual energy off it and I want it close in case I try to tune in again later.”

  “You pick up her energy by using her jewelry?”

  “Yeah. It’s called psychometry. The basic theory is that objects can retain some of the energy of people they come into contact with. Metal objects are especially good at providing a sort of imprint of the person who wore them. The more you wear something, the more it becomes imprinted with your energy. I’m feeling like Gina wore this a lot.”

  “So why leave it behind?” Duffy said, giving me a pointed look. “Before we go let’s take a thorough check of the place and see what she took with her. I didn’t see her car in the driveway, so I’m assuming she drove somewhere.”

  “Good plan. You check in the kitchen; I’ll look around in here. I’m probably better at being able to tell what a girl would take on a trip.”

  Duffy nodded and disappeared into the hallway. I rummaged around in Gina’s closet and dresser drawers and noticed what a neat and organized person she seemed to be. Everything within her drawers was neatly pressed and folded. It also seemed like the drawers themselves were packed full. There were no missing piles of clothing. I looked inside her closet and noticed it was just as orderly. There wasn’t a group of extra hangers where clothing would have been taken and packed. Her hamper also appeared empty. My guess was that she had just done laundry. I stepped back into her room, and my attention was called to her bed. I walked over and pulled up one of the pillows. There was a nightshirt neatly folded behind it. I frowned and set the pillow back into place.

  Next I walked into the bathroom and looked around. Gina’s toothbrush was in the holder on the side of the sink along with her contact lens case. I unscrewed the cap on the case and noticed the outline of one lens. I unscrewed the other and saw the same. I fished around inside her medicine cabinet and found an empty eyeglass case.

  Just then Duffy appeared in the doorway. “Find anything?” he asked me.

  “Wherever she went she left in a hurry,” I said, picking up the contact case. “It doesn’t look like she packed any of her clothing, and she wasn’t wearing her contacts. Since her eyeglass case is empty I’m guessing she was wearing her glasses when she walked out of here. Also, her hamper’s empty.”

  “Yeah…?” Duffy asked, probing me to explain the relevance.

  “You do your laundry naked?” I asked.

  “Not usually.”

  “Me either. Usually I’m wearing sweats, which go into the hamper when I’m finished with the laundry and ready for bed.”

  “Maybe she wore the sweats to bed,” Duffy said.

  “Nope. Her nightshirt’s under the pillow.”

  “So she was wearing sweats, which means she wasn’t dressed for work. Kelly told Ellie that Gina called her around eleven o’clock last Tuesday night and said she was off to California.”

  “Can you check Gina’s phone records to get a sync on the time?” I asked.

  “You sure you’re not a cop?” Duffy asked me with a grin. “’Cause you sure talk like a cop.”

  “You hang out with them long enough, they rub off on you,” I said by way of explanation.

  “That’s right. Ellie said you were dating a cop. Is he coming to the wedding?”

  I looked down at my boots and nervously twisted a strand of my hair. “Uh, no. That ship has actually sailed,” I mumbled, a pang in my chest making me wince.

  “So you’re single?”

  I sighed and said, “Yep. Looks that way.”

  “Good. Save a couple dances at the reception for me, okay?” he said, and chucked me under the chin.

  I looked at him and let one of my eyebrows drift up. “I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

  “Damn straight,” he said, winking. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find anything out from Gina’s coworkers before I have to give you back to Ellie.”

  As I followed Duffy out of Gina’s apartment I couldn’t help but feel we had overlooked the obvious. Looking back I blame myself, because if I hadn’t been so caught up in the increasing attraction I felt for Duffy, I might have allowed myself to focus on the one clue that could have tied this whole case together in time to save my own life. But hindsight is like that—always twenty-twenty. And believe me, it’s even more sharply focused from heaven.

  Chapter Five

  Before we returned Gina’s key to her landlord, Duffy knocked on both her neighbors’ doors but got no response. He left his card wedged into the doorjambs with a request for them to call him.

  Our next stop was a large business complex in downtown Denver. We parked in a giant parking lot and hoofed it into the building. Duffy found the listing for Gina’s work and we took the elevator up to the fifth floor, where Denver Fidelity Investments was located.

  A young receptionist with short brown hair and apple round cheeks greeted us with a “Good morning and welcome to Denver Fidelity. Did you have an appointment with one of our financial planners?”

  Duffy whipped out his sheriff’s badge and explained, “We’d like a moment with Gina Russell’s manager.”

  The receptionist looked rather shocked when Duffy flashed his badge, but she quickly regained her composure, picking up the phone and dialing an extension. After a moment she said, “Mr. Lindstrom? There is an officer here to see you about Gina.” After a pause she said, “No, I don’t know what it’s about. He’s just asking to speak to you.”

  After replacing the receiver and giving us a tight smile, she said, “Mr. Lindstrom will be right with you. Please have a seat in our lobby.”

  We walked over to a comfortable seating area and had to wait only a few moments before a tall, skinny man with blond hair, beard and mustache appeared. He looked first to his receptionist, who gave a short nod in our direction, then briskly walked over to us, extending his hand.

  “Good morning, I’m David Lindstrom. Gina’s former supervisor.”

  “Good morning, sir,” Duffy said, taking his hand and giving it a good pump. “I’m Sheriff McGinnis and this is an associate of mine, Abigail Cooper. May we talk somewhere in private?”

  “Of course, of course,” Lindstrom said, his mannerisms fidgety and nervous. “Come this way to my office. We can talk in private there.”

  We followed Lindstrom through a maze of cubicles and side offices before being shown into a nice-sized office with a window view of the nearby mountains. Gesturing to two chairs, Lindstrom took up his seat behind a large wooden desk. “How can I help you today, Sheriff McGinnis?” he asked.

  Duffy leaned forward in his seat, making eye contact with Gina’s supervisor. He’d clearly picked up on the same nervous energy coming from Lindstrom that I had. “Gina Russell is a friend of my family’s and we have reason to believe she may be in trouble,” Duffy began.

  “What sort of trouble?” Lindstrom asked.

  “We’re not sure,” Duffy answered. “We have some facts in front of us that do not fit her behavior, and we’re hoping you can shed some light for us.”

  “What kind of facts?”

  “We haven’t found anyone who’s seen or heard from Gina since last week,” Duffy said.

  Lindstrom nodded. “I knew something must have happened to her.”

  “What do you mean?” Duffy asked.

  “
Well, I got a voice mail from her about a week ago, and all she said was that she was quitting and not to bother sending her stuff. That we could just toss it out with the trash.”

  “What stuff?” I asked.

  “The personal items she kept at her desk. Pictures, a radio, some thank-you cards from clients, her day calendar. The whole thing was so unlike her. She was my most reliable employee here at Fidelity, and for her to up and quit without explanation or notice or even cleaning out her desk was so against her character that I was very concerned with her sudden departure.”

  “Was the voice mail she left you stamped with a time?” Duffy asked.

  Lindstrom nodded. “Yes, it came in about two in the morning. I remember, because I thought it was an odd time to receive a voice mail; then I listened to it and I figured she really wanted to make sure I wouldn’t answer my phone. I tend to work late a lot.”

  “I see,” Duffy said. “Do you still have the voice mail?”

  “No,” Lindstrom said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I deleted it a few days later. I tried calling her, of course, at least to talk things over, but she never called me back.”

  “Did she give you any reason for her resignation?” Duffy said.

  “No. The voice mail simply said that she wouldn’t be here in the morning because she was quitting, and there was no need to pack up her desk; she didn’t want anything here, and that was that.”

  Duffy nodded his head for a moment, never breaking eye contact with Lindstrom. His body language suggested that he was on the fence about whether or not to believe him, but my radar said that the man was telling the truth. Finally, Duffy said, “Do you know where Gina might have gone?”

  “I have no idea,” Lindstrom said.

  “She mentioned something to a friend of hers about heading to California to be with her boyfriend,” I suggested. “Did she ever talk to you about him?”

  “No,” Lindstrom said, looking at me. “Gina was very professional. She didn’t bring her personal life to work, and frankly we never discussed it.”