The Killed Conscience

By Jordan Antonacci

Still at the beginning of her career, investigative journalist Emilee Weathers is desperate for the perfect story and doesn’t care how she has to get it. When she’s asked to assist in a convicted serial killer’s appeal, it almost seems the perfect story has come banging at her door.

But not long after arriving to the mountain town of Pigeon Forge, Emilee discovers the body of another, more recent victim. With the body showing signatures of the already-convicted murderer, Emilee sets out to discover if she’s happened upon the work of a copycat, or if the real killer was ever even caught. The more she looks though, the murkier everything becomes. Police begin withholding information and the killer seems capable of going any length to protect his identity. On top of it all, when her investigations uncover the buried secrets of those closest to her, Emilee questions who it is she can and can’t trust in those mountains, if anyone at all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jordan Antonacci
• Release date: Jun 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463970164

Jordan Antonacci

Jordan Antonacci is an HVAC Technician by day and blogger by night, working out of the hot, hot lands of Dallas, Texas. When he isn’t trying to avoid heat stroke, he can be found at his desk with an espresso, brewing up a new story or a post for his blog. Outside of writing, Jordan has a mild case of wanderlust. He enjoys road trips, cruises, and flights out to California to visit his family. His dream is to make a living with writing and visit every country the world has to offer.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The phone call came at midnight.

Tucked away in her home in one of the suburban areas outside Dallas, Emilee Weathers sat cross-legged on her sofa, listening to the soft crackles of a fire burning away in the fireplace. Fall weather was just beginning to fade into early winter, and the temperatures outside said it was time for her pink fuzzy socks, thermal pajama pants, and hooded pullover sweater. Long sleeves. Always long sleeves. Her finger traced over the trackpad of the laptop heating the tops of her legs.

Click, click.

She scrolled through the homepage of her blog, Emilee’s Cold Corner, reviewing her posts and trying to find an answer to the question, What do I write about next?

All her posts thus far were articles covering sets of cold cases throughout various areas of the United States, some of which may have been linked. She was always looking to push the bar, to expand and try new things. In her own personal way, she did—but she was also wise enough to stick to what she knew. Having just surpassed five-thousand followers, Emilee had built a cozy little space in her own small corner of the inter-web. So, she figured she’d keep giving the people what they came for. But still, she couldn’t help wondering if there was something more out there for her.

There on the coffee table were two small pieces of dark chocolate. Emilee grabbed a piece, unwrapped it, and set it on her tongue to melt. For a moment, she thought about making a cup of coffee—a thought that always came to tease. It was already well past six in the evening and too late for more caffeine. The thought rebounded to a cup of hot chocolate. That one sounded good. Sadly, she was already nestled under the blanket, and ten steps to the kitchen required a bit too much effort.

Emilee’s phone began buzzing somewhere in the throw blanket across her lap. On the screen was a number with an 865 area code. Out of state. She sat the phone down and went back to staring blankly into that computer screen. But something was pecking at her. It wasn’t until she actually thought about it that she remembered. When she did, she felt like smacking herself on the forehead. No wonder that 865 seemed so familiar—it was the area code of that place she’d once called home fifteen years back: Knoxville, Tennessee. A barrage of memories of life up until the age of ten all fell on Emilee at once. She remembered West Camp Elementary, the Tennessee mountains…then she remembered her best friend, Sebastian.

Emilee scrambled to answer the phone before it stopped ringing. Hello?

Hi, is this a Ms. Emilee Weathers?

She hadn’t spoken to Sebastian over the phone in years, but from what she remembered, that didn’t sound like him. Whoever that was, he sounded older, with a timber country accent.

This is she… Um, who is this?

My name is Todd Nichols. I’m a detective here with the Knoxville Police Department. My apologies for the time. We’re on different time zones but I know it’s still late there. Hope I’m not waking you.

Emilee threw the blanket off her, put her feet on the ground, and sat up straight as if the detective could see her and she needed to look professional. No. Not at all. I was just… What can I do for you, Detective Nichols?

Well I’m in a bit of a situation with this broken, pathetic excuse for a legal system over here. Might you be familiar with the VDK case?

Oh, only if he knew how silly of a question that was. Emilee was very familiar with the Valentine’s Day Killer. Somehow, more familiar than any other civilian could’ve been. She’d written not one, but two blog posts over the monster—one before and one after his capture back in 2012. The whole case had really stuck out to Emilee; not just because it took place in her hometown, but also because she found herself staring into the mirror, thinking about how she looked an awful lot like those girls whose bodies they’d found.

Patrick Liftmen? Yes, of course.

Might you also be familiar with the appeal he was just granted?

Oh, my God… No. Wh—for when?

I don’t know yet. Sometime early January, if all goes as planned. Now, the reason I’m calling, Emilee, is ‘coz I think you might be able to help me. I’ve looked into you; you’ve done some good work for the American Association of Investigative Reporting, and your blog clearly demonstrates you know your way around some cold cases. What I need is someone trustworthy—thorough—that can help me find some evidence that’ll keep this guy in prison.

And you want that to be me?

Thought I already said that, but yes.

While honored, Emilee couldn’t help but feel there were some unanswered questions standing behind her. Like, how did he find her? How did he know she worked for the A.A.I.R.? And why would he specifically ask her? There had to have been countless other journalists much closer and much more qualified. She wanted to turn and ask but feared shedding light on something she didn’t want to see. At least not until she had to; when those questions were there in her face—a moment that, in due time, would come.

Well, Knoxville’s pretty far, and I do have things I should take care of over here… she said, feeling stupid for not just screaming Yes.

I will gladly pay for all your traveling expenses. I’m sorry, but I thought you journalists ate up stuff like this.

He was right. A case like that was exactly what Emilee had been aching for since she was a kid. For those last few days, it was exactly what she’d been praying for, relentlessly. What she’d been needing. For a moment, she feared it might never happen. But there it was being handed to her on a silver platter. It was hers for the taking, and all she had to do was reach out her eager little hands and take it. Yet all she seemed to do was stare at it, hesitance in her twitchy fingers. Why did it seem too good to be true?

Emilee looked up to the framed glass enclosure on the wall, which held something so precious to her, and yet so meaningless to the one person who she desperately wanted to be proud of her: her degree in Journalism from U.T. She stared at it like it held all the answers, just like she did every night. As she’d come to learn, it didn’t. Still, she mouthed to it the words Thank you.

Emilee? You still there?

After composing herself with a breath, Emilee tried sounding very calm and professional as she spoke into the phone and said, Yes. I’ll do it. But only on one condition: You have to get me an interview with Patrick Liftmen before his appeal. There was a pause. Emilee let it hold until she began wondering if maybe her connection had been cut. Detective?

I’ll see what I can do.

Before Emilee had time to say anything back, her phone beeped as the call ended.

#

As midnight passed, Emilee still sat on her laptop, only, she’d migrated to her bed. She clicked around on social media, purposely dodging a specific somebody’s page that she actually wanted to see. For the last hour and a half, she’d been visiting the pages of strangers and scrolling through her news feed until she was looking at posts from a week before, all the while pretending she didn’t see his name when it’d pop up.

She got out of bed and started pacing wall to wall in her room. She had an early morning coming up in just six hours but knew she wouldn’t get a blink of sleep if she couldn’t bring herself to just click on his damn page. So, she jumped back into the tousled sheets on her bed and scrolled back through the feed until she saw his name. Suddenly, she found herself wishing she had a cat. So, so cute, and distracting… Focus.

With a willing yet timid motion of her finger, she clicked. The Facebook page of Sebastian Keller appeared on her screen. A wave of heat rolled across her skin.

It’d been years since Emilee and Sebastian had spoken. The last time she remembered talking to him was back when she’d first began her master’s program. She recalled upon a very brief and dry texting conversation, in which Sebastian was trying to catch up with Emilee to see how she’d been. It wasn’t on purpose when Emilee lost herself in textbooks and crammed schedules and simply forgot to reply. She’d meant to get back to him, but as days turned to weeks, she figured he probably didn’t even want to hear from her anymore. So, Emilee tucked away the guilt and continued her studying, every so often wondering about her little Sebastian and what he was up to.

Emilee began scrolling through Sebastian’s status updates, but it was a short scroll. Clearly wasn’t much of a social media kind of guy. There were a few pictures from his high school graduation, a few pictures of him and Casey, some photos of Gatlinburg… Then Emilee saw a few photos that made her feel a bit sidelined. Why she felt that way was beyond her. They were the pictures of Sebastian and a girl—some blonde with cheekbones and an over-the-top smile. There was no lip locking in any of the pictures, but Sebastian had his arm around her in enough of them for it to be clear who she was to him.

With another click, Emilee began a new message to Sebastian. As she pressed the button, she felt like she knew for sure what she was going to say. It was meant to be a very casual and basic message. Just your typically Hey, how’s it going? I’ll be in town soon. Hope to catch-up. But as she stared at that blinking cursor, Emilee wondered if that was enough. Should she say sorry for never responding? Should she ask about the blonde? Should she confess how she’s been wanting a cat lately? Emilee’s mind raced with unnecessary conversation topics as she typed and deleted several messages.

Finally, she bit the bullet and pressed send with her eyes closed. Then she pushed away her laptop and fell back onto her pillow, trying not to wait for his response but already wondering if he’d read it yet.

As she lied there, frozen in time, the front door to the apartment opened. Emilee checked the time; it was almost one in the morning. She wondered if she still had time to dive under her blankets and pretend she was asleep. But just as the thought ended, he stumbled into the room, kicking off his shoes and falling into the spot next to Emilee on the bed. He: the cologne-soaked boyfriend of hers, James Croker. She didn’t know where he went for all hours of the night, and she didn’t bother asking. In order to ask that, she’d first have to ask herself if she even cared. Although, if she had to guess, based on the smell of Cuban cigar smoke on his clothes and the faint Bourbon on his breath, she’d say he was off playing poker again, betting away money he didn’t even have. Her money. Asking if he won anything or not was out of the question. If he had, he wouldn’t tell her. If not, then she was likely to receive a cruel and unnecessary jeer for yet again sticking her nose in his business.

After a moment of sitting stiff, Emilee opened her mouth. You’re home early, she said softly.

James didn’t say anything.

Emilee grabbed her blanket, her laptop, and stood from the bed.

Where you going? James asked.

Um… I still have a few things to review for work tomorrow, so I figured I’d go to the couch for a bit.

Oh, forget about that. Come back to bed, James said, almost demanding with his tone.

Emilee gave a timid smile. That’s okay. I don’t want to keep you up with the light. From the lap top.

Whatever. Go. More room for me anyway. James rolled into the pillow and closed his eyes.

Emilee cautiously shut the door and crept to the couch where she closed her laptop and went to sleep.

Why did Emilee keep James around? It wasn’t the worst question in the world. Was it because she constantly hoped the person she first thought he was would soon be revived inside him and breathe again? Was she not telling him to leave out of fear of what he might do? To her or to himself? Or was she simply afraid of being alone? Fearful that the cold touch of loneliness may pierce her deeper than that of James’. As if the cold touch of loneliness wasn’t what she already felt, even with him there.

#

A dinging sound came muffled through a dense fog of sleep, getting louder, and louder. With her eyes still closed, Emilee flopped her hand around on the coffee table, searching for her phone. She forced her heavy lids to part and unlocked the screen. A near-blinding light flooded into her eyes as she opened the messages. When she saw who they were from, she bolted upright like she’d just gotten a whiff of the day’s first pot of coffee. They were from Sebastian. It was three a.m. her time, and four his. What the heck is he doing up right now?

She opened the messages:

Well well, look who it is. Back from the dead? How r u?

Emilee smiled. The next said, That’s awesome! It’ll be nice to see you again.

She began responding when she got another text: You should come stay with Morgan and me. I think that’d be fun.

Emilee responded: Been good! Busy. Aw, that would be fun. Sure u don’t mind?

I’m sure. You can’t say no now. Excited to see you. I’ll call tmro. Nite :)

Still smiling, Emilee sent one more message that said, Goodnight! :) before putting her head down and going back to sleep.

Chapter 2

Fifteen Years Earlier

Two families gathered as tears began to stream.

The sky above Knoxville, Tennessee held a pink and violet hue just over the mountains in the horizon. Warmth from the summer heat faded as the sun retreated behind The Great Smoky Mountains, giving way to the night sky and stars. Off in the front yard of a single-story condominium on the west side of town, two kids stood facing one another. One was Sebastian Keller; the other, Emilee Weathers. Both were ten years old at the time.

I guess this is where we depart, old friend, Emilee said with a shoulder shrug.

Yeah… I’ll miss you, Sebastian replied awkwardly, as if he was trying to make it sound like a good thing.

Don’t be sad. You still have Casey, she said, looking to Casey as he walked up from behind Sebastian, holding a half-eaten pop-tart in one hand and a can of lemonade in the other.

He looked from Emilee to Sebastian. What?

Code blue, Sebastian said to Emilee in a soft voice.

Emilee covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh. I’m sorry, sir. Do we know you? she said to Casey.

Casey’s head fell back. Oh, not this again.

Okay, okay. We’ll give you a break this time. Don’t get used to it though.

I guess I’ll have to since you’re leaving us.

Sebastian nodded as his eyes fell to the ground.

Emilee, come on now. Time to go, Emilee’s mother called out from the driveway.

Well, this is it, gentlemen. Emilee gave Casey a hug he couldn’t quite return with his hands full. Then she stepped in and put her arms around her little Sebastian. She squeezed tight to make up for all the future hugs she wouldn’t be able to reach him for.

Promise you’ll write me from Texas?

Promise. Until we see each other again. Emilee gave Sebastian a kiss on the cheek, then ran for the U-haul. Bye, she shouted without looking back.

Sebastian watched as she ran off to a new life; her long black ponytail bouncing shoulder to shoulder as she did. He held up one hand to wave, and kept the other on his belly—like he was trying to hold that fluttering feeling of a million swarming butterflies inside. With Emilee gone, he somehow knew he wouldn’t feel it again.

As the truck started, Sebastian stood strong. But as it pulled off, his bottom lip began to quiver. By the time the truck turned the corner and left his sight, his eyes were filled and his vision blurry. Then she was gone. Forever and ever.

Sebastian ran into his house and into his room. He locked the door, buried his face into a pillow, and cried and cried and cried.

I’ll never see her again, he thought. Never ever again.

Only, he would. And if the two knew of the tragedy that was to unfold when they reconnected fifteen years later, they probably would have done it anyway.

Chapter 3

Emilee yearned to make a name for herself in the world of journalism. Her soul rumbled with a hunger to uncover something real, something that would shake the world before bringing it to a neck-breaking halt. She wanted to tell honest news—stories powerful people didn’t want told. Stories that held potential to get her locked away in some Ukrainian prison. While everyone else wanted to focus on Donald Trump’s hair and what his next tweet would be about, all she wanted to do was reveal the hidden truths everyone was being distracted from.

Ambition and impatience went hand in hand. She understood she was young and fresh out of college, but she had a list of points