Page 43 of 25 Alive

“Honey. It’s safe. Open up.”

Brady didn’t wait for Yuki to fully open the door. He yanked it open and picked her up. She wrapped her arms around Brady’s neck, clasped her legs around his waist, and held on tight.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “We’re safe.”

CHAPTER65

IT WAS ALMOST 11:30 p.m., and Cindy was in her office working. But her head was in cyberspace as she searched online through all the daily newspapers posted online in or near Portland, Oregon, over the last eighteen months.

She was hunting and pecking for a possible crime, the details of which had not and would not be released to the press. She was typing in keywords for “female suicide” and “murder victims,” and there were too many of those to examine. Because Wilson hadn’t given her anameor an actualdateof death or astreet address!

So, who had died wearing loafers with “I said” and “You dead” written on the soles? She needed a cop in Portland to tell her the victim’s name. She texted her husband, Richie, again but got no reply.

Just before she logged off, Cindy found an article in the B section of thePortland Newsdated a year and a half ago. She moved her lips as she skimmed the article on her computer screen.

Angela Kinney Palmer, thirty-nine, of Lake Oswego was found dead in her home on August 15. Her cause of death is still under investigation. Ms. Palmer’s funeral will be held on August 23, at the Church of Our Lord, beginning at 9 a.m.

Cindy found a photo of Angela Kinney Palmer. Had she been the woman found hanged to death? She felt for this woman, panicked beyond any fear she’d ever known, fighting to release the rope around her neck before her life was taken. Cindy had once been in a similar situation herself.

She couldn’t let herself dwell on those memories. Cindy took her fingers off the keyboard, gave herself a shake, then picked up her cell phone and texted Claire:Got a second?

Claire texted back:Call me.

Cindy didn’t wait for Claire to change her mind. She tapped Claire’s contact and her friend answered immediately, saying, “This had better be good.”

“Claire. I’m in the office hitting a brick wall. Please. Do you know anyone in the Portland ME’s office? Or in a nearby city?”

“Sweetie. It’s 11:54. You’ve already asked me. And now you’ve woken up Edmund. And no, I don’t.”

“I have only one question,” Cindy said. “We know the Portland woman’s manner of death is hanging. But there must be something more. I might not run with it. I might just use it as a clue to get more information. Or save it for a bigger story later. Look. I will protect my sources. I swear. No names will be mentioned.”

Claire said, “Wait. You want me to give you the nameof a medical examiner who will give unofficial information to you?”

“Ahhh. Something like that. Claire, it’s worth breaking a few rules if it leads to the ‘I said. You dead’ killer. Don’t you think?”

“Cindy, I think this can wait until morning, right? Call Lindsay at the office at 8. Or talk to your husband. Uh-oh. Wait a sec. I know someone who retired from Portland’s crime lab at the end of last year. I’ll try to find him. Tomorrow. If he’s okay with this, I’ll text you his name and number. Okay?”

“Thanks, Claire.”

“Welcome. Now go home.”

CHAPTER66

CINDY PRINTED OUT a hard copy of the article about Angela Kinney Palmer from thePortland Newsand saved the digital version to her working file. Why hadn’t there been any follow-up on this article? Was it because Angela Palmer’s ex-husband, Brett Palmer, or someotherunnamed federal agent, had shut it down?

She wasn’t ready to quit tonight. The drive, tenacity, and obsessive personality that had fueled her career as a reporter was pushing her forward now.

She looked up “Palmer” and “Kinney” in the Portland white pages and found dense columns of each. She narrowed her search to an “A. Kinney” living near the church where Angela’s funeral had been held. She made notes. But she was still working blind. If the retiree from the Portland crime lab couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, she’d call Portland’s ME and plead.

It was now past midnight. Cindy packed up her laptop and her police scanner and called Richie.

“Sorry, Rich, I’m stuck on this story. I’m closing up now. I should be home in half an hour.”

“I’m downstairs listening to music,” he said. “I parked in my usual spot. If you don’t see me, I’ll flash my lights and honk.”

Cindy easily found Richie’s twenty-year-old Bronco without his having to go to Code 3. She climbed into the passenger seat and gave her husband a good kiss. When they were on Fell Street and the straightaway toward home, she told Rich about Angela Kinney Palmer.

“She may have been a victim of ‘I said. You dead,’” Cindy said.

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