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Simon thanked herand waited as he was put on hold. Francesca drove through the city, making herway back to the police department. Amber could feel the frustration of nothaving any leads weighing on her as the drive continued.
Finally, a man’svoice came onto the line.
“Hello, this isthe legal department of Westford-Myer. My name is Hank van Diemen. How may Iassist you?”
“Hi, this is AgentSimon Phelps from the FBI. I’m calling about the deaths of Thomas Jackson andEmily Chen. Ms. Chen was a freelance marketing consultant. Is it possible that shedid any work for your company? Particularly for anything that Mr. Jackson wouldhave been involved with? If we can establish a connection between the two, itmay help our investigation.”
“I see. I’m sorry,Agent Phelps, but I can’t discuss that with you. If Ms. Chen did any work forthe company, it would be covered by a strict confidentiality agreement.”
Simon sighedheavily. “Look, we understand the need for security, but we’re dealing with aserious situation. Two people have been killed in the same way. We’re dealingwith a serial killer here. I’m asking for your help to give us anything thatcan help us catch this person before they kill someone else.”
The man on theother end of the line was silent for a moment, as if taking in the implicationsof that. For a moment, Amber thought that Simon’s argument might be enough tosway him.
“I’m sorry, but Ican’t just release that information to you. Not without a warrant.”
“Then we’ll get awarrant,” Simon said, and hung up.
Amber could hearthe frustration in his voice. She could understand it. Getting a warrant wouldtake time. Time that they might not have. Yet it was their only option. Theyhad to do this properly.
Francesca didn’tlook happy with how things had turned out. “So much for them giving informationto the FBI. What do you want to do now?”
Amber had ananswer there.
“I’d like to go toEmily Chen’s apartment. I want to check to make sure that there’s nothing theforensic teams missed there. Maybe there’s something to connect her to thecompany, but we just haven’t found it yet.”
If they could findit, that might explain why the killer had targeted her, and that, in turn,might lead them back to him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amber looked atEmily’s apartment building, hoping that the answers to the case lay somewherewithin. It was a nondescript building in a busy part of town, but the fact thatit was where Emily had been living made it feel heavy with significance.
Once they gotinside, they made their way to her apartment. Francesca let them in with a key.Amber still wasn’t sure how she felt about having the detective tag along withher and Simon. She was used to it being just the two of them working togetherto solve cases. But at the same time, she knew that having another set of eyeson the case could be helpful.
The interior ofthe apartment was bright and modern, but the posters on the walls were forvintage ad campaigns, and there was a large mood board on one wall where Emilyhad stuck pictures of vintage clothing. Presumably, it was something to do withthe latest marketing campaign she was consulting on.
Amber could seethat the forensic team had already been there, but she still wanted to take alook for herself. She walked around the apartment, scanning the area foranything that might have been missed. Anything that might not have seemedrelevant to them.
Amber checked thekitchen, looking for anything that might connect Emily to Thomas Jackson. Simonwent through the small living space.
“There’s nocomputer,” Simon observed.
“Forensics tookit,” Francesca explained. “They’re trying to get into her files, but we haven’thad long to do it and it seems she was serious about her security.”
Meaning that theywouldn’t be able to simply look through everything Emily had written there tofind answers about who she had and hadn’t worked with.
It looked to Amberas though one part of the apartment was designed to be an office space, a smallsquare of carpet, a desk and a chair, all crowded with books, papers, andfolders.
She headed over toit and began sifting through the papers on the desk. It was a mess, but her ownapartment was anything but orderly. She was used to working in chaos. Mostly,it was invoices and receipts here.
The others joinedin the search, while Amber tried to make sense of the invoices.
“I’ve gotsomething,” Amber finally called out. “There’s a letter here from a lawyerabout some work he did for Emily.”
“Who’s the lawyer?”Francesca asked.
“Stanley Anderson,”Amber replied. “There’s an invoice.”
“What kind ofwork?” Simon asked.
