Twenty-Five Years Ago Today by Stacy Juba

Author:Stacy Juba
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romantic suspense, suspense, journalism, womens fiction, amateur sleuth, cozy mystery, mythology, greek mythology, new england, roman mythology, newspapers, suspense books
Publisher: Stacy Juba

Chapter 14

25 Years Ago Today

Fremont records the coldest day of the season with 2 degrees at 7 a.m. at the Fremont Water Company.

"I don't believe this," Eric said. "Your editor wants an article now?"

Kris gazed straight ahead at the red brick police station. They sat in Eric's Camaro, parked behind the downtown building. She pressed her cheek against the cool window. "I'm sorry."

"And some other reporter is writing the story?" Eric asked. "Why can't you?"

"I'm an editorial assistant. An obit writer. My boss threatened to fire me if I tell anyone I'm a reporter."

"You're kidding. You're an obit writer?"

She glared at him.

"Sorry, I didn't know which to respond to first. Hey, are you crying?" He studied her more closely.

Damn it. Kris rubbed a river of tears out of her eyes. "I just feel badly that the paper's digging this up again. I didn't mean for this to happen. I wanted to solve your grandmother's problems, not make them worse. I haven't even warned her yet. "

Sighing, Eric yanked a monogrammed handkerchief out of his jeans pocket and passed it to her. "Don't worry, I'll tell her. It's not your fault. How were you supposed to know Yvonne Peyton would make a scene? I'm not too thrilled with your editor, either."

"In her own way, Jacqueline's trying to help. She's hoping someone will come forward."

"My grandmother will hope the same thing. That's the problem. Who'll come out of the woodwork now? You all right?"

Kris checked her puffy reflection in the rearview mirror. She’d better not wear this brand of makeup to the beach this summer. Waterproof, it was not. "I've been better, but let's go."

Eric spoke to the female dispatcher through a Plexiglas window in the lobby. A twenty-year-old bronze plaque on the wall listed members of the Fremont Police Station Building Committee. One name in particular caught Kris's attention.

Thomas H. Harper, Sr. Yvonne's father.

The dispatcher directed Kris and Eric down the corridor. They walked past the communications center of video monitors and computers, an officer drawing a diagram at a long counter and a row of recharging flashlights mounted on the wall.

Eric knocked on an open door marked "Lieutenant." A slight man with thinning hair and glasses glanced up from his mahogany desk. His brown-and-white speckled mustache bristled beneath a hawkish nose. Triangular patches were stitched to the sleeves of his white shirt.

He half-rose to greet them, gold badge glittering. Kris noticed a gun in his holster and handcuffs attached to his belt. On the wall behind him, hung a mirrored ebony plaque with "A Policeman's Prayer" written in calligraphy.

Lieutenant Frank gestured toward two chairs. "Have a seat. Miss Langley, I presume?"

"Call me Kris. This is Eric Soares, Irene Ferguson's grandson."

"A pleasure to meet both of you. Irene is quite a lady. What can I do for you?"

Eric sank into a chair beside Kris. "We want to re-open Diana's case."

"This case won't be closed until everyone involved is dead. If we get a lead, we'll follow it, but after twenty-five years, our odds are pretty nil.

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