Free A Cold Dark Place by Gregg Olsen Page B

exactly what she was talking about. The
schools did a good job about being PC and tolerant when it
came to every other group besides women. It was still all
right for boys to run around with images of tied-up women
on their T-shirts.
    "That looks great, sweetie," said Emily as her daughter
transferred the pasta to a bowl and began pouring on the
sauce. "I'm getting to bed early," she said. "Sheriff's going to be on Diane Sawyer tomorrow and I don't want to
miss it."
    Jenna's eyes widened and she started to laugh. "Oh wow!
That would be worth seeing. I'm calling Shali. The girl will
think your boss is a superstar."
Wednesday, 6:39 A.M.
    The bed held her like a coffin. Despite all that had gone
on in Cherrystone, Emily slept more soundly that night than
she had in a week. She'd laid her head on the pillow and the
next moment the alarm clock beeped to wake her. The merlot, she thought. Better than knockout drops. She put on the
thinning white terry robe she'd taken home from the hotel in
Cabo San Lucas where she and David had honeymooned.
They'd been so happy. It hadn't all been fury and vitriol. The man that made her angrier than any other had also been the
love of her life. She couldn't bear to toss the robe, even though
it was frayed at the cuffs. Her wedding ring was buried deep
in her jewelry box, never to be worn again, but not the robe.

    She padded down the hall toward the kitchen. Passing her
daughter's room, she knocked once. "Jenna, get up! Kiplinger's
on TV in ten minutes or so. I'll make coffee"
    The kitchen was still a mess, but Emily could deal with
that. She turned on the burr grinder and it made its interminable racket. Fresh ground coffee never smelled so good.
She imagined Kiplinger getting his big handsome face powdered by some assistant provided by the Spokane ABC affiliate, where he was going to appear via satellite.
    "Jenna!" She called once more, as she filled the filter
with the dark roast that smelled heavenly at that hour. Always did. She poured distilled water in the reservoir and
flipped the switch. The machine rumbled.
    Diane Sawyer, all sunny and blond, was on the tube, talking about Cherrystone and the twister that miraculously had
killed no one, but now the town was the scene of a murder
investigation.
    The show broke for the local Spokane weather.
    Good, it was just a tease, telling the audience what was
coming after the next commercial break. She hadn't missed
the sheriff.
    Emily hurried down the hall and pushed open the door.
Jenna's room was empty. The bed made. She looked at her
watch. It was almost seven. Shali must have come to get her
early. It passed through her mind that earlier this week Jenna
had mentioned something about posters and banners needing to be put up at school.
    "First a devastating tornado and now a small town in
Washington State is reeling with a mysterious homicide."
    It was Diane Sawyer talking.

    Emily, her robe flapping as she ran to the living room,
fixed her eyes on the TV screen.
    Brian Kiplinger stared into the camera. Or stared at something. Emily couldn't be sure what he was looking at. His
eyes looked around nervously. He nodded like a doll with a
spring neck as Diane coolly asked what was known about
the Martin family.
    "This is a good family. The kid was troubled. We're not
sure what happened, but we think the answers will be uncovered once we find him. I have my best detective on the case"
    Nice, Emily thought, a shout out from the sheriff. Of
course, I'm the only detective so that makes me the best by
default.
    "What theories do you have about what might have happened?" Sawyer asked.
    "We don't know. We don't speculate. But we do want to
find Nicholas Martin." His eyes darted in search of a place to
focus, and the camera mercifully cut to a high school yearbook picture of Nicholas. Unsmiling, with his dark locks
and spooky blue eyes, Nichols did look troubled. "He's not a
suspect, but he is a person of interest."