“Easton Adair, Kinley Wright, and Gus Lambert here to see Lenny Powers.”
The guard dipped his chin and scanned his clipboard. “Sorry, you’re not on the visitor’s list.”
“We’re here on official business.” Easton produced a leather billfold and held it out to the guard. The man’s brow furrowed as he leaned in to look at the gold badge and identification.
“One moment.” The guard closed the window and picked up a telephone. After a minute, the glass slid open again. “Mr. Powers is available to see you.” Without any additional pleasantries, the gate opened, and they drove slowly down the private road lined with sprawling Cape Cod-style homes.
“This is it.” Easton turned into a two-story home with natural shingled siding. They exited the car and walked up the stone steps leading to the central front door. Before they had a chance to knock, a fit, middle-aged man opened the door.
“Just got off the phone with Agent Nilsson. I was expecting you to stop by. Come in. We can talk in the living room.” Powers led them past the kitchen and gestured toward the large sectional. “Take a seat.”
“I’d like to know more about the email you sent Agent Nilsson and why.” Easton cut right to the chase as he sat down beside her.
“I have the same questions.” The man sat across from them in a floral-printed accent chair.
“Do you deny sending it? The email came from an IP address at this location,” Easton said.
For a man whose intentions were being questioned, and by someone of a lower rank, he was quite calm. “I do.” Powers scrubbed his hand over his cheek. “I certainly wasn’t sending emails on Saturday night.”
“What were you doing?” she asked. There was more bite in her tone than she intended.
“My wife and I hosted a dinner party.” He glanced down at his clasped hands, then back at her. “The last guests went home around midnight.”
“We’ll need a list of everyone who was here.”
“Of course.” He stood up and patted his pockets. “Let me get a pen and I’ll jot down some names.” He crossed the room and opened the top drawer of a decorative cabinet positioned against the back wall, then returned to his armchair. “I’m taking this seriously. I consider every guest a close friend, and it burns me to think someone took advantage of being in my home. Once you leave, I’ll be reporting this breach to the bureau.”
“Are you familiar with the Kingstown Killer case?” Easton didn’t have to yell or shout to get across the gravity of his anger. She couldn’t be the only person in this room to feel it shimmering off him in waves.
The man’s head jerked back, and his brow furrowed. “I don’t know an agent who isn’t. You think that email has something to do with that case?”
“That’s exactly what we think.”
“Please explain, because I don’t think I’m following.” Powers’s view flashed to her, and realization dawned over his face. “Christ. Little Kinley Miller. That’s you, isn’t it?”
In the past few days, she had heard her parents’ last name repeatedly. Those two syllables had been plastered over every Sunday newspaper at the time of her disappearance, and she’d be content never hearing them again. Kinley ground her teeth together.
Janie. Janie. Janie.
“Kinley.” Easton’s sharp bark made her mind snap to the present. He held her gaze for one breath, then two. His dark eyes grounded her, making her feel stronger than she actually was.
“Wright. Now, my last name’s Wright.” She projected a false bravado, and even though her voice quivered, she was proud she wasn’t shaking. “I came here to blend.”
Powers leaned forward in his chair. “So when the nightly news said you shared your story…”
“Never happened.” Even though the state police had connected with the local television channels to pull the story, it had gained too much momentum.
“I’m sorry you’re having to relive this, then,” Powers said in a soft voice.
“Not as sorry as we are.” Gus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re going to review this list, and will be in touch if any questions come up.”
“Good luck to you.” Powers nodded and stood up. “I’ll make my team aware of what’s happening, and I hope to God no one with nefarious intentions was seated at my table. You better believe we’ll fetter out whoever sent that email from my home.”
They stood and followed Powers to the door, then took the stone steps to the driveway. They got into the vehicle with more questions than answers. Behind them, tires squealed over the pavement, followed by a rapid succession of gunfire. Shit. As the back window exploded, Kinley ducked her head and grabbed her weapon.
“Gus!” She wrenched around in her seat. Her partner had drawn his gun and crouched down.
“Fuck! Go, just go!” Blood dripped from the shards of glass embedded in Gus’s skin, but otherwise, he appeared unscathed.