Dying Memories Read Online Free Page B

case once Gandre got what was coming to him.”
    “Ever hear of Kent Forster?”
    “Never heard that name before. Sorry.”
    The detective begged off the phone, telling Bill he had to get back to work. After verifying that Janet Larson’s address was the same as what was given in the email, Bill got up to talk to Jack O’Donnell. He first knocked on Jack’s office door, then walked in and saw the city desk editor looking as harried as usual; his clothes rumpled, his shirt sleeves rolled up, the little hair he had left on his head in disarray. Jack O’Donnell had always put in long hours, but since the cutbacks, he’d been working seven days a week, in each morning by seven and usually not out at night until past midnight. His eyes were bloodshot and set deep within his fleshy face, and he gave Bill a confused stare over the intrusion.
    “I’ve got tomorrow’s front-page for you,” Bill said.
    He showed Jack the same article about Jenny Larson’s murder that he was sent. When Jack finished reading it, Bill told him how Larson’s parents now lived in the same apartment building as Gail Hawes.
    “The mother looks a lot like Hawes,” Jack observed as he chewed on his lip. He eyed Bill slowly. “What’s your take on this?”
    “My guess, some sort of transference,” Bill said. “Hawes must’ve found out about Jenny Larson and identified strongly enough with Larson that she started thinking of the loss as her own. I don’t know why she would’ve pick Kent Forster. According to the police in North Carolina, the perpetrator was a local character who was killed last year in a knife fight.  I’d like to spend a little bit of the Tribune ’s money and consult with a psychologist about this.”
    Jack blanched at that prospect. “Try the local universities first, see if you can find a psychology professor who’ll talk to you in exchange for getting his name in the paper. If you can’t find someone, try to keep the cost down, okay? And talk to this Janet Larson.”
    “Will do.”
    “Write me up two thousand words. You’ll be getting a front page byline again. If that nut job third party candidate hadn’t spouted off about bombing North Korea and Iran you’d be getting the full front page.” A thin smile crept over Jack’s lip. “Transference, huh? Did you actually pick up a psychology book and do some research?”
    “No reason to do that,” Bill said straight-faced. “Not when I can watch In Treatment on HBO.” Bill nodded to O’Donnell, and left to find himself a psychologist.

Chapter 5

    Emily Chandler’s stomach was in knots during the entire lecture she gave for her introductory western art class. When she was done, she sped through the student’s questions at the end, anxious to call Bill and make sure he was okay. Earlier, before leaving the restaurant, she had stopped to look over her class notes for her planned lecture, and had walked outside a minute or so after Bill. That was when she thought she saw that man following him. The man had been across the street from Bill, and maybe she had only imagined what she thought she saw, drawn more to the man’s unusual appearance than any nefarious task he was involved with.
    The man was thin, very well-dressed, and had the pinkest skin Emily had ever seen, almost like bloodied ham. It was his eyes that freaked her out. No bigger than dots but they were the cold-blooded eyes you’d see on a snake, not on a human. Maybe that was it, that those eyes made her imagine him skulking after Bill. Still, though, as soon as her class cleared out, she ran to the nearest payphone and called Bill. She needed to hear his voice.
    When Bill answered his cell, she immediately felt stupid over what she had imagined. The last thing she wanted to do was make him think she was crazy, and instead of mentioning the odd-looking man, she told Bill how much she enjoyed having lunch with him, and wondered whether he’d like to meet for dinner. She badly wanted to see him