Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (best management books of all time txt) 📕

any upkeep in years as the painted siding was chipped and the white shutters were either partially broken or hanging off their hinges. A garden overgrown with weeds sat off to the side of the house. The owner had clearly given up caring about its appearance, and the home and property reflected this aesthetic in kind.

“Here it is,” Sam said, putting the vehicle in park.

Kimberley looked up at the house. It was exactly as she had expected, given the fact that Hannah’s mom, Lisa, was a grocery-store clerk living alone on minimum wage. According to what Kimberley could gather on her, Lisa had had Hannah very young and she was her only child. Hannah’s father had never been in the picture and, in that sense, history had repeated itself for these two women. Kimberley hoped to learn who Isobel’s father was and where he was. But most of all, she wanted to see Isobel, to ensure that she was okay.

It took several knocks on the front door before Lisa opened it. Propped on her hip, she held Isobel close. Lisa looked like an older version of Hannah—that same long dark hair and those emerald-green eyes. But time had clearly not been kind to Lisa. The lines on her face were deeper than they should have been for a woman in her early forties, making her face look like a broken vase that was somehow still intact, cracks running all over it as if it were a part of its design. Her skin was red and blotchy, with a wet sheen thanks to smeared tears that hadn’t yet dried. She sniffled and wiped at her nose with a tissue.

“Did you find the person who murdered my daughter?” Her voice cracked and she began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Let’s go inside,” Kimberley said, placing a hand on her shoulder and helping her back into the house.

“Mama. Mama,” Isobel said over and over.

“She keeps saying that…” Lisa wailed.

Kimberley took Isobel from Lisa just as she collapsed on the tattered couch, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry,” she cried.

“It’s okay. There’s no need to be sorry. Take your time,” Kimberley said, holding the little girl.

Kimberley looked over Isobel, but when she got to the little girl’s emerald eyes, she couldn’t look away. Almost like she was spellbound by them. She knew she was too young to provide any useful evidence or testimony, but she wondered what those eyes must have seen. Did she see her mother get murdered? Did she see the killer? Would the horrible memory manifest itself into something much worse when she was older? No, of course not. She was too young. She’d remember nothing… not even her own mother. Kimberley closed her eyes for a second to compose herself. Her eyes forcing tears back into their ducts at the thought of Jessica enduring the same fate.

“Mama.” The child began to cry, reaching her hands out for something that would never be there again.

“Will you take her?” Kimberley asked Sam.

“Uhh, sure.”

Sam held the small child in his arms, bouncing her ever so gently. Her cries stopped and she stared up at him, confused at first. He stuck out his tongue and blew out his cheeks, causing an eruption of laughter to come from Isobel. She smiled wide, reaching out for his cheeks.

Kimberley couldn’t help watching Sam. She couldn’t believe how good with kids he was, especially for a man that didn’t have any, or so she had assumed. They had only worked together less than a week and he hadn’t really told her anything about himself. But then again, she hadn’t asked.

Hearing Lisa’s sobs again, Kimberley pulled her attention from Sam and Isobel. She walked to the couch and took a seat next to her, not too close to invade her space, but close enough for comfort.

“We’re going to do everything we can to find the person responsible for Hannah’s death,” Kimberley assured.

Confidence and reassurance were the most important things she needed to get across to families of victims. If they felt you could help, they’d be more helpful, Kimberley had learned. Unless of course they were involved.

Lisa’s shoulders shook a couple more times before she started gaining control of her outpouring of grief and heartache. She sat up straight, grabbing a handful of random restaurant napkins from the coffee table, and wiped her face.

“You promise?” Lisa looked directly into Kimberley’s eyes, a plea for her dead daughter.

Kimberley paused. She never made promises she didn’t think she could keep.

“I need your help to fill in some of the gaps we’re missing?” Kimberley said, changing the subject and pulling out a small notepad and a pen from the front pocket of her shirt.

“Okay.” Lisa sniffled.

“Can you tell me about Isobel’s father?”

She held the pencil upright against a blank page of paper.

Lisa’s shoulders shuddered. “His name’s Tyler Louis. He works in the oil industry out in Texas, and he’s not involved at all. He didn’t even have the decency to send his daughter a birthday or Christmas gift.” There was an edge of spite in her voice.

Kimberley took notes as Lisa talked.

“When was the last time he had contact with Hannah?”

“Hell if I know. That boy took off as soon as Hannah got pregnant.” Lisa let out a huff.

“And how long were they together?” Kimberley asked.

“Maybe a year or two. Him running out on Hannah and Isobel really caught me off guard. He seemed like a nice boy, and then one day he was just gone. Up and skipped town.” Lisa shook her head.

“So, he’s had no interactions with Hannah over the past fourteen months?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you have a phone number or an address for him?” Kimberley asked.

Lisa shook her head.

“That’s okay. We can get that information.”

“Think he did it?” Lisa asked, looking up at Sam.

“We’re looking at a number of possibilities,” Sam said, looking at Lisa while flipping through the pages of a picture book for Isobel.

“The autopsy report came back with the time of death estimated between two a.m.