Allison Brennan - See No Evil

“Frisco?” Connor asked.

“He’s a DDA, like me.” Did Connor sound jealous? No. Her imagination. “Then to the courthouse. I’m going to pull all of Victor’s recent cases and Garrett Bowen’s court filings. It’ll take all day, but it needs to be done. Especially if I can make any other connections to Billy Thompson or Emily.” It sounded like a long shot.

“Dillon wants to see the files as well. Meet me at his house tonight.”

It sounded like an order and Julia cringed. “And you?”

“I’m going to talk to Emily about her friends, then head over to her school.”

“Maybe I should do that,” she said.

“You know the court system better than I do,” Connor countered. “It would take me weeks to pull those files. And Emily and I have a rapport. I promise I’ll go easy on her.”

Connor met Dillon at the hospital. “How did Emily do last night?” he asked.

“Very well. Aside from being underweight, she’s healthy. Dr. Browne wants to discharge her, and I stalled. I don’t know how long I can keep her here-Browne wants to move her to the criminal psychiatric wing downtown.”

“You can’t-”

Dillon interrupted Connor’s admonition. “Of course not. She’s here for at least thirty-six more hours. Hooper was here thirty minutes ago wanting to interview her, but I said she wasn’t mentally ready. I can’t put him off indefinitely.”

Connor looked through the window. Emily was sitting up in bed, looking out the lone, barred window. She looked so much like Julia they could be mother and daughter.

“Let’s get some answers about Wishlist,” Connor said.

They walked into her room and Emily gave them a half smile.

“Good morning, Emily,” Dillon said. “I brought an old friend with me.”

Emily’s pale face lit up when she saw Connor, then her eyes clouded. “Hi,” she said sheepishly.

“How’re you doing, kid?” He sat at the end of the bed. “Holding up okay?”

She sat up and touched his hand. Tears welled in her eyes and Connor hoped she wouldn’t cry. He didn’t handle female tears well at all. “Do you know…everything?”

He nodded, squeezed her hand. “Why didn’t you come to me? I would have done anything to help you. So would your aunt.”

Emily’s bottom lip trembled. “I know. I just…” She didn’t look at him or Dillon. “I just couldn’t.”

“She loves you, Em,” Connor said softly, not wanting to push the kid too hard.

“I just wanted to be strong with her. She’s so smart and beautiful and perfect. I felt, oh, I don’t know. Tainted.”

Dillon sat on the chair next to the bed. “I told you yesterday that nothing Victor did to you was your fault. You were attacked. No one blames you, except yourself. You need to stop thinking this was your fault.”

“I know, but-” She stopped, took a deep breath. “Anyway,” she changed the subject, “you’re here for something. What?”

Connor said, “We found an e-mail you wrote a couple months ago to a group called Wishlist. In it you described how you wanted to kill the person who hurt you the most. Your stepfather was killed in the same manner. Is that what you meant yesterday when you said you planned it?”

She nodded. “I never meant for it to happen. It was supposed to be just an exercise to get rid of the anger. And then…I saw.” She closed her eyes and lay back on the bed. “I saw it all. I touched his blood. I was so drunk I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t kill him,” Dillon said.

“No!”

“And you didn’t plan it.”

“No, but-”

“You didn’t really mean for it to happen. Someone asked how you would get back at the person who hurt you the most.”

She nodded. “Right, but isn’t it my fault anyway?”

“No, it’s not.” Dillon made her look at him. “Emily, we need to know everything about Wishlist.”

She frowned. “Like what?”

“How did you join the group?”

“Dr. Bowen recommended it. It’s an anonymous listserv where we can talk about things that happened to us and what makes us angry and how we feel about it. At first, it sort of helped.”

“But?”

“I don’t know. It started getting weird. I don’t know why I wrote that about Victor. I might have been wasted. I remember that day, though. Victor made me, you know, do that to him, and I felt sick and disgusted with him and me and my mother. But I couldn’t tell Dr. Bowen-he tries to be all understanding, but it’s an act. I’m a specimen to him, you know, like a bug under a microscope.” She looked at Dillon, gave him a half-smile. “I know you’re a shrink, but you don’t make me feel like that.”

“I’m glad.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute. “That day…I just lost it, totally. I was in the garage, thinking how to destroy his precious car. I picked up a wrench and came this close to smashing his headlights. Then everything cleared. He wanted me to react. He was pushing me to do something stupid again. Everything he said that humiliated me, the things he made me do, the way he made me feel, it was all to get me to be stupid so he could get control of my money. I realized then how truly evil he was, about how I’d love for him to be dead. I wrote that e-mail out of anger, and I think Victor was surprised that I didn’t act out. It empowered me and I realized it wasn’t that long before I would get my trust fund and could leave. I’ll be eighteen the day before I graduate from high school. Thirteen months. And the day I graduate I’m flying to Europe with all my money and never setting foot in that house again.”

She crossed her arms, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with determination, her inner fortitude revealing itself. She looked more like Julia now than before.

Connor asked, “Did you ever reveal your identity to the Wishlist group?”

She vigorously shook her head. “Never.”

“Sometimes,” Connor continued, “you reveal yourself in small ways. Not your name or address or school, but maybe some of your history. For example, vandalizing the courthouse. If you mentioned that in the group, someone might have figured out who you were.”

“Are you saying that someone in my group killed Victor?”

“We don’t know,” he quickly said, “and you shouldn’t talk about it. We’re looking into everything right now.”

“Are you a cop again?”

“No. Your aunt hired me.”

“Jules?” Her eyes widened. “She must be worried.”

“She’s tough,” Connor said. “She wants to make sure you’re protected.”

“She thinks I’m guilty,” Emily said softly.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Then why hire a lawyer for me?”

“To protect your rights.”

Emily looked at Dillon. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Yes,” Dillon said, “but I’m not an attorney. Julia hired Ms. Jones because she wants to make sure no one can hurt you. Trust me on this. She doesn’t think you had anything to do with Victor’s murder.”

“How can she not? I had everything to do with it. I’m the one who wrote the e-mail in the first place. I set things in motion.” She looked from Dillon to Connor and said defiantly, “But I’m not upset he’s dead.”

“Emily, this is important. Has anyone from Wishlist tried to meet with you in person? Either at your house or a public place?”

“No, never.”

“You said Dr. Bowen put you in contact with this group. How?”

“He gave me an e-mail address and a code word.”

“Do you remember the code word?”

“A Bible verse. Isaiah 35:4. I remember because he said I had to put in the colon for it to work. I wasn’t going to because I really didn’t want him knowing things about me, but he promised it was completely anonymous and he’d never bring it up in our sessions, that he didn’t know who most of the people on the loop were and he wasn’t the only shrink who referred people to the group.”