Page 64 of Justice Denied

“A colleague mentioned that since the two women are related.”

The man’s voice sounded marginally more awake now. Seth cleared his throat, trying to find the words to succinctly related the circumstances. “My colleague atThe Northern Virginia Herald, Brogan Gilmore, received an anonymous call a few minutes ago saying Emily Ainsley could be found at Tibbet’s Hill Cemetery in Sterling.”

“What?” Detective Oldfield’s voice sharpened. “Tell me again.”

Seth repeated the information. “We’re headed to the cemetery now. We’re coming from Falls Church and about to hop on the Dulles Toll Road. Should be there in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll alert Fairfax County PD to send any patrol officers in the area to that location and meet you there.”

“Okay.” Seth remembered to add, “I haven’t called Ms. Ainsley yet—didn’t want to get her hopes up if this turns out to be a hoax.”

“I see.” Detective Oldfield didn’t comment on whether he’d call Jetta.

Seth let out a breath as Brogan accelerated on the highway. The GPS on the vehicle’s dash screen showed their ETA at seven minutes. “Thank you.”

“Wait for backup,” the detective said. “This could be a trap.”

Seth said they would be careful and disconnected. He relayed the conversation to Brogan. “I didn’t think about this being a way to lure Jetta to a lonely spot.” He most certainly did not like to think about what might have happened had she been the one to receive the tip and not Brogan.

“Which is why we’ll go in as slow and quiet as possible. Here’s the turn.” Brogan eased off the highway and onto a road lined on both sides with rectangle buildings about three stories tall. “Kind of ugly, aren’t they?”

Seth peered in the darkness to see a sign illuminated by two small spotlights: Visions Data Center. “Yeah, but since they are not near any residential or retail businesses, they didn’t have to make them pretty. I took some shots of a new center on the outskirts of Centreville that had been designed by a leading architect—very eye catching. These are functional but not attractive.”

“Keep your eyes peeled for the left turn coming up, as I don’t want to flip on my high beams unless I absolutely have to.”

Seth peered into the darkness for the road, then pointed to a narrow slit between two buildings. “There, it’s sandwiched between those two structures.”

“Got it.” Brogan eased the SUV into the tight, single lane gravel road with buildings on either side. They bumped along for a few hundred yards before the buildings ended. Ahead, the headlights picked up a wide expanse of open space. Soon, they could see a low, wrought iron fence with a stone monument marking the cemetery’s entrance.

Seth waited until Brogan had neatly turned the car around until it faced the alleyway, then both men exited and conferred near the monument, which appeared to have a brief history of the cemetery on a plaque attached to the stone. “Should we split up or stick together?”

“Together,” Brogan said. “It will be less confusing when the police arrive, I think.”

Using their phones’ flashlight app, the two entered the small cemetery and headed to the left. The light played over the simple graves with some names visible and others lost to age and weather. The scent of recently mowed grass tickled Seth’s nose. Mature trees ringed the cemetery on three sides, providing a buffer between the data centers and the loved ones buried here.

They reached the back of the cemetery without spotting Emily. Seth had been so sure the caller was telling the truth. “Let’s check the right side,” Brogan said.

Seth moved in that direction, using his light to illuminate the way. Even with the flashlight, he tripped over something but managed to stay on his feet. He swept his light back over the area and spotted a broken piece concrete. Still nothing. He raised the phone toward the copse of trees. The light caught something shiny, and he quickened his pace until he spotted the glow of a cast. “Brogan! She’s over here.”

Seth dropped to his knees beside the woman lying on her side, her lounge pants torn and dirty. She had a black hood over her head, and he carefully removed it. Her hair, usually so smooth and in place, lay in tangled knots around her shoulders. “Mrs. Ainsley? Emily?” He touched her cheek. Warm. Thank God, she was alive.

Behind him, Brogan requested an ambulance while Seth examined Emily as much as he could without moving her. He had no idea the extent of her injuries.

She stirred, then opened her eyes. “Seth?”

“I’m here. Help is on the way.”

“Oh, Seth.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Help me sit up.”

“I don’t want to hurt you more.” He tried to dissuade her but the determined set of her jaw, so like Jetta’s, told him to save his breath and help her. As gently as he could, he raised her to a seated position, her back against a tree.

Scratches marred her cheeks, and the palm of her hands had lacerations, as did her left knee. She began to shiver. Shock.

“Do you have a blanket in your SUV?” Seth directed his question to Brogan, who took off at a jog while still on the phone. He returned his attention to Emily. “It will be all right. You’re safe now.”

“Jetta?”

“She’s safe too.” He wouldn’t be the one to tell Emily about the shooting. All that could wait. “I didn’t call her yet. Wanted to make sure you were here and okay.”

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