teenager, she experienced her first tornado. The power and unpredictability of the storm fascinated her. It exhilarated her to watch warm and cold fronts collide. She loved to learn more about it and the whys. The computers could help you predict the weather. But it is such a small part. Why do some fronts stall and create floods when days before the models predicted only an inch of rain? How can a warm sunny day suddenly turn stormy? She wanted to understand it better, to control the outcomes in some way, perhaps minimize its destructive forces. But now a degree in meteorology was useless.
Near the end of March . . .
He’d been in the apartment on multiple occasions. Thankfully, this would be his last visit. Looking at his TAG Heuer watch, he knew the movers should be there in thirty minutes. He slowly walked around the small rooms. Starting in her bedroom, he surveyed what remained of her belongings. Everything else, the clothes and household items, had been placed in boxes labeled for donation. The full-sized bed was stripped. Only the mattress, boxed springs, and frame remained.
On top of the dresser were the items Anthony pondered. There were pictures in frames, indicating some sentimental attachment. He knew most of the faces. Some he’d seen in person. Others he learned about through whatever means necessary. There was a picture of her grandparents in one of those cheap frames labeled “Grandparents.” Then there was an old picture of Claire with her sister Emily and their parents taken in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. If he had to guess, Claire was about twelve or thirteen. There was a close-up of Claire and Emily at Emily’s wedding. He would have known the location even without the evidence of Emily’s veil. He remembered the day. It was hot and humid, even for Indiana. The last was a more recent photo of Emily and John sitting on a sofa.
Also laid out on the dresser were a few pieces of jewelry. The inexpensive things had been included in the donation boxes. These pieces, however, were of finer quality. The pearl necklace on a white gold chain was the same one she wore in the wedding picture with Emily. There was also a pair of diamond earrings. As Anthony fingered the diamond studs with his gloved hands, he decided to put them into the donation box. The damn things couldn’t be half of a carat total weight. He grinned. If he wanted Claire to have diamond earrings, they sure as hell would be bigger than that.
Walking toward the living room, he glanced into the bathroom, completely empty with most of its contents thrown away. No one wants a used shower curtain. The living room was amazingly sterile, contrasting the way he found it. Months ago, when he first entered the apartment to place the surveillance cameras, the small living room surprised him. He had closets bigger than this, yet it was homey, if that was possible. It may have been the pictures, plants, or eclectic furnishings—he really didn’t know. It felt like her.
Now the room was down to the bare essentials. He looked at his watch: seventeen more minutes. He picked up the laptop and placed it in the case. Going back to the bedroom, he decided to keep all the framed pictures and the pearl necklace. He put them in the case with the laptop.
Reminiscing, the computer had been invaluable. With it, he’d been able to access her calendar, e-mail, and various accounts. He found all scheduled commitments and via e-mail regretfully canceled. He also e-mailed her employer, Facebook friends, and sister. They all received a similar message describing an amazing opportunity she received, how she’d be unreachable for a while, but would get back to them as soon as her decision regarding her future was made. Through the laptop, her bank accounts, credit cards, auto loan, utility bills, cellular phone—everything—was assessed. The balances now all read zero. After paying each final statement in full, the accounts were closed. The monies that went into her bank accounts were difficult to trace, but if someone took the time to do it, they would learn it was a settlement from WKPZ. Anthony hoped no one would investigate that thoroughly, but if they did, that discovery should pacify them. Of course, WKPZ had no record of such a transaction, but the probability of anyone investigating that thoroughly was low. The fact the monies had been deposited into her various