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“Alex,” she said. “What are you doing here so late?”
Jacqueline noted Alex’s fear, a look in her eyes like the girl were staring at a demon.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, you didn’t.” Alex said, standing quickly and gathering the papers that were strewn around her desk. “I’m just . . . I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I was just trying to get some work done. I’m finished now.”
Jacqueline watched Alex fumble with the papers until she gathered them all in a haphazard bundle.
“What are you doing here so late?” Alex asked.
Jacqueline narrowed her eyes as she watched Alex’s frantic behavior.
“I was working on the Matthew Claymore case,” Jacqueline said.
“Really? I thought that was finished.”
“It is, mostly. I’m just tying up some loose ends.”
“Anything interesting, or something you need my help on?”
“No,” she said. “Matthew’s in the clear now. Just making sure nothing can come back and hurt him if Reece Rankin decides to recant his confession.”
Alex nodded. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
Jacqueline moved to the side when Alex skirted past her and into the hallway. She sensed Alex willing her to follow. When Jacqueline didn’t, Alex forced the issue by reaching past her to close the office door.
“I was just on my way out,” Alex said. “Are you coming or going? Going, probably, at this time of night.”
Jacqueline took a moment before she answered, highlighting Alex’s rapid speech and nervous demeanor.
“Going,” Jacqueline finally said.
“I’ll head down with you.”
A few minutes later they both walked out the front doors of Lancaster & Jordan and on to their respective vehicles. Jacqueline started her car and looked in the rearview mirror. Alex’s headlights came on, and Jacqueline watched her drive out of the parking lot. Jacqueline waited a minute and then turned her engine off and exited her car. She was through the lobby and in the elevator a minute later.
When the doors opened on the ninth floor, Jacqueline stepped into the den and headed straight for Alex’s office. She clicked on the lights and stepped behind Alex’s desk. The surface had been cluttered with papers when Jacqueline had surprised her a few minutes earlier, but now the desk was empty. She sat down and shook the mouse. Alex’s monitor blinked on and Jacqueline began to analyze the screen. It took just a moment to recognize that she was looking at the archived records of Lancaster & Jordan—an alphabetical list of clients arranged according to year.
Jacqueline clicked on the menu at the top of the screen to see the last few searches that had been made, each name appearing in a dropdown menu:
Nathan Coleman, 2019
Robert Klein, 2017
Karl Clément, 2016
Dennis and Helen Quinlan, 2012
Jacqueline breathed calmly as she stared at the names. She thought back to Alex’s jittery behavior a few moments earlier. Finally, she dragged the mouse to the corner of the screen and closed the window that held Lancaster & Jordan’s archived files. When she did, she was met by an image that took her back to her past. Like a portal through time, the image of Camp Montague transported her across the years and turned her briefly into the thirteen-year-old girl she was during her first and only summer at Camp Montague. On Alex’s computer screen was a Washington Post article about a camp counselor named Jerry Lolland who had killed himself in the summer of 1981.
It took ten long years, but now Jacqueline knew that her visit to the Quinlan home in McIntosh, Virginia, had finally caught up with her.
CHAPTER 60
