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chapter 1, continued
Don opened the file with a bit of a sigh. He loved solving the hard cases. Mystery was his only true love. Finding out. There was just something about it that made Don's heart beat faster, and there always had been, from the time he picked up his first mystery novel in the fifth grade. But solving the hard cases required a whole lot of work, and while work was definitely the forte of Donald Calder, he was in the kind of business that consumed his life. This case, he felt with certainty would be his life until it was over. . . And the hard ones sometimes took a long time. Don shook off his thoughts and stared down at the page in front of him. Three pictures looked back. One was of a girl with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was in a dance outfit and smiling. At the bottom of the photo someone, probably Honeycut, had written that her name was Chailyn Richard, she was six. The next photo was another girl, this one fourteen with long chestnut hair and the same blue eyes. Her name was Mara Richard, the sister of the other girl. The third photo was of a dog, dead and mangled on the floor. The words 'May this be a warning' had been cut into its side.
Donald stared at the photo in disgust for a moment, then stacked it neatly with the other two at the corner of his desk. The next paper in the file was a police report. The two girls, (Mara and Chailyn, Don thought to himself, committing their names to memory), had been beaten my an unknown person, between 4:10 and 4:30, when they were discovered by their mother, Kate Richard. Both had suffered traumatic wounds to the head. Chailyn, the six year old, had also sustained lacerations to both her ankles and wrists. She had lost large quantities of blood. Both girls fell into comas before reaching the ER. The older had awakened once, three days ago, and relapsed. The younger had not shown any signs of improvement. Below the report, there was another pile of photos, these of the wounds the girls had received. "Jesus," Don whispered. He flipped to the next page. There had been no forced entry. The police were working on the case as well, but the mother had not felt they were doing enough, and hired the Honeycuts. And the Honeycuts couldn't handle it. Don flipped the file shut, took a sip of coffee, and reopened it. He held up the photos of Mara and Chailyn and quietly studied their faces. "Who did this to you, girls?" He whispered. The jangling of the telephone woke him from his thoughts, and he placed the photos back in the folder. Frowning, he picked up the phone.
There was a slight cough on the other end ". . . Mr. Calder?" It was Shirley, but she was using her formal voice and his last name, which meant that someone else was there.
"Yes?" Don asked, "What is it?"
"It's your two o'clock, sir. The one that canceled. She's here." Don's frown deepened. He balanced the phone between his shoulder and his chin to free his hands and pulled out his planner. Thursday November 5th, two o'clock, Kate Richard.. Don's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. He glanced at the folder lying in front of him to double check. Kate Richard, the mother of Chailyn and Mara Richard. She'd discovered them at four-thirty one week and three days ago. His meeting with her had been set up by the Honeycuts, he had yet to speak to her directly.
"Is Jeremy in yet?" Jeremy needed to be in, he always attended the first meetings, he was the people person.
"No, sir."
"Alright," Don said, "send her in. Have Jeremy join us as soon as he gets in." Don looked at his watch. It was still before nine. On the best of days Jeremy didn't come to the office until nine-thirty.
"Okay," Shirley answered. He could hear her cover the phone with her hand and give muffled instructions to the visitor. "She's coming," Shirley said unnecessarily into the phone before hanging up. Don stood as the doorknob turned.
Kate Richard was very beautiful, but looked as though she had aged a great deal in a very short period of time. She was a woman of about five-seven with long chestnut hair that had been hastily shoved into a ponytail. High cheekbones added a sense of import to her face, and her large brown eyes were framed by huge purple bags. He had the vaguest impression that he'd seen her somewhere before, but could not place where.
"Hi," Don said, for lack of anything better, "I'm Donald Calder, I'll be working on your case." A look of anger flashed across Kate Richard's face,
"My case?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly, "my. . .case?!" Don was completely taken aback. What on earth? "This. . . this is not a case, Mr. Calder. . . This is not a trial. These are my babies! You are not being hired to sue anyone, you are being hired to find the bastard that put them in the hospital! Is that clear?" Don stared blankly at the woman,
"Ma'am, I didn't mean to imply. . ."
"The hell you didn't!" She screamed, both spit and tears flying from her face. "I refuse to be put in this situation!" She spun around to leave the office and smacked straight into Jeremy Fox.
"Jeremy," Don breathed with relief, ". . .help," he pleaded. Jeremy had the woman braced by the shoulders in his hands. He looked from her to Don and back to her again.
"Shirley called, I was up so I thought I'd come in early. What's going on?" He asked. Kate looked up at him. Jeremy, Don knew, was much easier to look at than himself. With thick brown hair, gray eyes, and an easy smile, Don attributed a good deal of Jeremy's people skills to his good looks. He knew that wasn't all of it, but it was enough most of the time. At Jeremy's question, Don put his hands in the air, I did nothing, he mouthed, and Jeremy's eyes fell back to the woman again. "Ma'am?" he asked.
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