Tom Wallace - Gnosis

Devon spent the rest of the day trying her best to block out thoughts of what happened to Mr. Rogers, or how close she may have come to being murdered. It was frightening and unsettling to realize the difference between life and death for her boiled down to a mere fifteen minutes. If she hadn’t been given permission to leave early, she would be dead.

The realization brought tears to her eyes.

It was almost dark when Terri brought Mark home. Seeing Terri’s car pull into the driveway, Devon went outside and spent fifteen minutes talking with her sister about the Rogers murder. She told her about the phone call from Detective Dantzler, and about the man who mysteriously vanished. Then she asked Terri again whether or not she should contact the police. Terri suggested that if the police had not contacted Devon by noon tomorrow, she should call Detective Dantzler and speak with him about it. Devon agreed to do that.

By eight-thirty, Mark was sound asleep, a rare occurrence for him. Under normal conditions, Devon had to fight to get him in bed by nine or nine-thirty. It was a nightly battle getting the child to give it up. But not tonight. The all-day Kings Island excursion on Saturday, and a Sunday afternoon spent romping around with Jordan were more than enough to wear him down. He was yawning at seven, droopy-eyed at eight and completely out of it thirty minutes later.

Devon undressed, put on her pajamas, poured a glass of ginger ale, and stretched out on the sofa, eagerly awaiting the start of her favorite Sunday night TV show, CSI:Miami . When it went off at eleven, she would have to hit the sack. She was scheduled to be at work tomorrow morning at eight. A local dentist’s office needed a receptionist, and Susan Lloyd, owner of the Pro-Temp Agency, had called to see if Devon was interested. Initially, Devon was reluctant to accept the offer, but when Susan told her the job was guaranteed for a week, Devon couldn’t say no. A week-long gig-that was like permanent employment. It also meant a decent paycheck.

At ten, Devon cleared her mind of all thoughts, choosing instead to focus only on CSI:Miami . No more thinking about what happened Friday, or how close she may have come to losing her life, or the mysterious stranger, or Detective Dantzler. Nothing to keep her from enjoying the show to the fullest.

She settled back, upped the volume one notch, and began watching.

Devon was so focused on her favorite TV show she failed to hear the noise coming from the kitchen. It was barely detectable, first a quiet pop followed by a soft shuffle of feet. Had she heard it, she would have suspected that Mark had gotten out of bed and was getting a drink of water. Or maybe he had gotten out of bed to pee. But she didn’t hear it, didn’t lose focus on the TV, on CSI:Miami , where detective Horatio Caine was questioning a suspect about a murder that occurred during a South Beach party.

Devon smiled when Horatio shrewdly trapped the suspect into telling a lie. But, Devon knew, this suspect wasn’t the murderer. She guessed Horatio knew it, too. But the suspect was somehow involved, and Horatio would eventually sort things out. He always did. Horatio Caine was the best.

Devon reached for the ginger ale, never taking her eyes off the television, not missing a word Horatio spoke. She didn’t want to miss anything. After taking a sip, she placed the glass back on the end table.

Suddenly, from behind, a gloved hand covered her mouth and violently yanked her head backward. She tried to turn her head, to see the person behind her, but she couldn’t. The person’s grip was too powerful.

What’s this ? What’s happening here ? What’s going on ?

As she tried to struggle against her captor, to free herself from his grasp, she felt a sharp prick at the base of her skull.

Then Horatio Caine went black.

Laurie Dunn was sitting in Barbara Tanner’s kitchen when Eric phoned to tell her Devon Fraley had been found murdered in her home. Laurie listened intently, scribbling notes as Eric explained that Devon was the temp worker who filled in for Barbara at Colt Rogers’s office on Friday. Laurie didn’t interrupt while Eric was speaking, and she asked no questions when he finished. Her only comment before closing her cell phone was to tell Eric she would try to find out if Barbara could shed any light on the matter.

Barbara Tanner was forty-eight going on seventy. At least, that’s the way she looked on this Monday morning, and she was the first to admit it. When Laurie arrived at a little past nine, a very tired-looking Barbara, dressed in a blue robe and white pajamas, her hair uncombed, apologized for her shabby appearance, adding that she simply didn’t have the energy or the will to get dressed and face the world like a normal person should.

Barbara laid the blame for her malaise on flu-like symptoms that had stayed with her for almost a week. Laurie wasn’t so sure about Barbara’s self diagnosis. She couldn’t help but wonder if Barbara’s red and swollen eyes were the result of illness or from crying. Laurie leaned toward crying, because from the start of their conversation, Barbara made it clear that she cared deeply for Colt Rogers, and that she was devastated by his death. Laurie had no reason to doubt her.

Laurie decided to wait until later in the interview to tell Barbara about Devon Fraley. She knew it would be yet another shock to Barbara, who was already showing signs of sinking into depression. If Laurie could somehow spare her the bad news concerning Devon, she would. But she couldn’t. She had no choice but to ask, and Barbara would have to answer. Sometimes being a detective really sucked.

“How long have you worked for Colt Rogers?” Laurie said.

“Since nineteen eighty-five,” Barbara whispered. “I went to work for him right out of college. He’s the only real boss I’ve ever had.”

“Was he a good boss?”

“The best. He was never anything but fair and kind and generous to me. If I needed time off, either for illness or personal situations, he let me have it, no questions asked. Once, when I was being hounded by a collection agency, he loaned me the money to pay off the bill. Told me to take all the time I needed to pay it back. Took me three years, but I paid him every penny. To me, he was a wonderful person and a terrific boss.”

“Was your relationship ever more than employer-employee?”

“You mean, did I sleep with him?” Barbara almost managed a chuckle. “Good heavens, no. And even if I had wanted to, it never would have happened.”

“Why not? You’re a very attractive woman.”

“Let’s just say I’m not exactly Mr. Rogers’s type, if you know what I mean. He prefers his women to be a lot wilder and more flamboyant than I could ever hope to be. I’m a little too plain, too drab, and too conservative for his taste. Also, I’m now too old. He likes them young.”

“Did he have a lot of women?”

“I would say he did.” Barbara blew her nose into a tissue, wadded it, and dropped it into a wastebasket. “His current paramour is Cheryl Likens, our paralegal. They’ve been cozy with each other for the past year or so. I certainly hope she’s better in bed than she is on the job, because that’s the only way Mr. Rogers is getting his money’s worth. The woman is dumber than a bag of nails.”

“Is it possible they had a falling out and she killed him?”

“I seriously doubt it. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure Cheryl has enough intelligence to load and fire a gun.”

“What about past employees? Did Mr. Rogers have trouble or conflicts with any of them?”

“There haven’t been all that many. Since I’ve been with the firm, there have been six paralegals prior to Cheryl. Three of them went on to law school and are now practicing attorneys. One left to get married, the other two left to take jobs elsewhere. They all left on good terms with Mr. Rogers.”