Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  “You don’t need to cover for me. Brandon and I aren’t married.” Tori realized her tone sounded a little sharper than she’d intended.

  “Fine, then can I ask if Keith made a move for you to share his bed?”

  “Nope. I received another black rose at Brandon’s apartment. So, I didn’t want to stay there any longer.”

  “Another black rose?” Mandy sounded worried. “Did you move back to your place?”

  “No. It’s not finished yet. I stayed in a hotel close to where I work. I’m either going to continue staying there or move into an extended stay place until the work on my house is done.”

  “Brandon probably won’t like that.”

  “Maybe not, but that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Why don’t you stay at my place. We could have fun.”

  “What about your my mother-in-law?” Tori asked, but her true concern was endangering Mandy’s family, especially Rylee.

  “She still hasn’t given us a date to expect her. Maybe I can get Max to pin her down.”

  “I’d like to stay there and spend more time with Rylee.” Tori kept her façade going, not wanting to alarm Mandy.

  “He’d love it, having two people entertaining him. I’ll let you know what I can find out about my friendly mother-in-law,” Mandy said in a sarcastic tone.

  “I better call Brandon or, who knows, he might jump on a plane.”

  “That’s a strong possibility. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out something.”

  “Talk to you later.” Tori disconnected and then clicked on Brandon’s number.

  He didn’t bother to say hello. “Why didn’t you stay at my place last night?”

  Tori decided to weave a little truth into her explanation. “A black rose has been left outside your door twice. Whoever left them has somehow been able to wipe frames out of the surveillance camera footage that would show the delivery culprit.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

  “Brandon, who told you that I didn’t stay at your apartment?”

  “Tori, don’t change the subject.”

  “Did Charlie tell you?” Tori guessed, thinking Charlie might’ve noticed she didn’t leave the building, called Brandon’s landline, and then sent a security guard to check. Suddenly that scenario didn’t make sense to her since Brandon’s missed calls had come through before she would’ve left for work.

  “No.”

  “Did you already know about the roses?”

  “Well…”

  “So, you did.”

  “Tori, I knew a florist box had been left in front of my door and thought it came from one of your admirers. I didn’t know a black rose was inside. Also, I only heard about one florist box. Why didn’t you report the second one?”

  “Figured the footage would’ve also been erased. There was no point.” Tori’s main reason was that Brandon would have tried to come to her rescue, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Where did you stay last night?”

  “At a hotel. Mandy’s invited me to stay with her family until the work at my house is finished and the alarm system is upgraded.” Tori wanted to calm Brandon, but had no intention of moving in with Mandy.

  “Uh.” Brandon paused briefly. “Won’t you please reconsider going back to my place?”

  “Brandon, most of my stuff is still there and I do plan on returning, but not to sleep there. Has your person made any headway in locating the heavy breather?”

  “Not much. The heavy breather has stopped calling my landline. Is he calling your cell phone?”

  “No.” Figuring it was Fackrell, she added, “Maybe he’s decided to lay low and wait for you to return to the States.”

  “Possibly,” he said, but his voice lacked any conviction. “I have to get ready for an appointment. I’ll call you later. And Tori, if you hear from the investigator, please call me.”

  “I will.” She had already planned to fill him in on the investigator after she filed a police report, assuming the meeting with Rice turned out to be fruitful.

  Tori’s morning went by quickly, but things changed after lunch. Time dragged by as her eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall, waiting for the hands to reach 3:30 p.m., the time she planned to leave for her meeting.

  At three o’clock, she couldn’t wait any longer. She cleared off her desk, retrieved her purse, and headed to the hotel’s parking lot to collect her car.

  A half an hour later, she cut to the curb in front of the building that housed the Hillcrest Investigators. She was early for the meeting, but thought there was a chance Rice would be available to see her.

  Tori stepped into the impeccably decorated lobby with upscale office furnishings and headed to the receptionist’s desk. “I have an appointment with Trent Rice.”

  The receptionist glanced at her computer scene. “Mrs. Burgess?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” Tori sat down on a cushion chair, picked up a magazine from the small stack on the side table, and flipped through it.

  As she thumbed through the third magazine, a thin man with a pair of glasses perched on his prominent nose approached her.

  “Mrs. Burgess?” he asked.

  Tori stood up. “Yes.”

  They shook hands and then he guided her to his office near the end of the hallway.

  “Please have a seat, Mrs. Burgess.” Rice gestured toward a chair in front of his desk. He looped around it and took his chair.

  When they were both settled, he said, “I like to get financial matters out of the way first.”

  Tori knew that was her cue to hand over the money. She opened her purse, lifted out the bundle of bills, and handed them to Rice. Tori wanted to ask for a receipt, but since his client supposedly didn’t want a money trail, knew one wouldn’t be forthcoming.

  “Thank you,” he said, fanning through the cash. After sticking it in a desk drawer, he picked up two folders—a thin one and a thick one—from the credenza behind him and placed them on his desk. He laid a hand on them “There is sufficient evidence in these to put Mr. Layton behind bars and to return Mr. Fackrell to prison.”

  Tori stared at the folders. Who is Mr. Layton?

  “Before I give you access to the information, my client would like to remain anonymous. Can I trust that you won’t reveal her identity? Of course, it goes without saying that also means you cannot mention my name.”

  “The police will ask how I obtained the documents.”

  “I’m sure you are capable of creating a feasible scenario.”

  “Mr. Rice, I don’t know who your client is. So, it won’t be difficult to keep her identity a secret.” Keeping Trent Rice’s identity a secret might be another matter.

  “You’ll discover it going through the folder. I intended to redact her name, but given her relationship to the target of my investigation, her identity became obvious.” He held up the thick folder. “This folder will remain in the office. It includes personal notes and other confidential items. My client wanted you to have access to the entire file. Her desire is to see justice served, but she is not in a position to provide the police with the information. There is a check mark on the top right hand corner of the documents that have been copied for you.” He touched the thin folder. “They are in here. I’ll give you this folder before you leave. You can study all the documents in the conference room, but time is limited. I’ll be leaving the office at six. Do you have any questions?”

  “I’m sure I’ll have some going through the folder.”

  He handed her a notepad and pen. “Write them on this, and I’ll attempt to answer them before I leave for my appointment.” He rose to his feet. “Mrs. Burgess, you’ll have to leave your purse and cell phone in my office.”

  Does he think I’ll snap pictures of the unmarked documents? “My cell phone is in my purse,” she said, standing up.

  “Please turn it off.”

/>   Tori followed his instruction, zipped up her purse, and handed it to him. She watched him put it into one of the credenza’s file drawers. Then he picked up the thick folder from his desk and escorted her to the conference room, stopping along the way at a breakroom and giving her a bottle of water.

  “Make yourself comfortable. A restroom is two doors down the hall. I’ll be back around five-thirty.”

  Tori situated herself at the large oval table, opened the folder, and began reading Trent Rice’s notes on Francine Layton’s first visit to see him. Is this the same Francine who barged into the restaurant while I had dinner with the phony Keith Dreyer?

  She jotted down the date of Francine’s visit—a few weeks after Fackrell was released from prison. Francine had sought out Rice’s service because she was concerned about her teenage daughter, a computer whiz. According to her mother, the girl was also skilled at sneaking in and out of places without getting spotted. Is she the one that left the flower box in Brandon’s living room and the black rose on the bed?

  After school and on weekends, the daughter, Josie, sometimes worked for her father, Francine’s estranged husband—David Layton. Previously, Josie had talked freely about those jobs in front of Francine. When Francine asked her about the current project she was working on for her dad, the teenager clammed up. From conversations Francine overheard, she became concerned it could be an illegal project. She wanted Rice to determine if it was illegal or not.

  Reading over the numerous questions Rice asked Francine, Tori learned that Layton was an attorney. His main client was his father, George E. Layton. The senior Layton owned an electronics distribution company and had taught Josie all about computers and other electronic equipment. Francine was very close to her father-in law. What did that mean?

  Except for a brief period, Francine had been separated from her husband for over eighteen months. It started when she discovered Layton was having an affair with Stella Fackrell, a client’s wife. The woman died in a car crash. Layton’s father didn’t know about the affair. He knew only that his son and Francine had separated. He believed David was responsible for the separation while Josie thought it was her mother’s fault. To appease his father, Layton asked Francine if he could move back home a few months ago. Josie pleaded with Francine to let her father come home. Francine gave in and allowed Layton to stay in the guest bedroom.

  He had only been there a few days when he left his cell phone on the kitchen table while he talked to his father on the landline in the den. Francine wanted to know if he was involved with another woman. She clicked on it and then tapped in the same password he had used when they had lived together.

  Rice had noted next to that remark—Dumb. Tori agreed that was stupid of Layton not to have changed it.

  Francine skimmed Layton’s text messages and saw almost a daily one from or to Rob Fackrell, but no texts were sent or received from any women. Francine had read a few of the Fackrell texts. Fackrell wanted to avenge his wife’s death and Layton was giving him suggestions on how to accomplish it. Since Layton had been involved with Stella, Francine suspected he also wanted revenge and was more than willing to have Fackrell do the work. The tactics included vandalizing Brandon Burgess’s car and home. Things insurance companies would pay to repair. Not personally harming anyone. Francine wouldn’t have been aware of the scheme had she not snooped into Layton’s text messages, so she decided to let it go.

  While Francine was cleaning the den, she saw several crumpled handwritten pages torn out of a notepad in the garbage can and looked through them. At the top of the first page was written “Putting Fackrell Away for Life.” Under that, “Stella would still be alive had he not smacked her around after she asked for a divorce.” I doubt the cops were aware that Stella was banged up when she hit Brandon’s car. Below that was a list of items Layton intended to sway Fackrell to do that would land him back in jail. Since the list was in the garbage, Francine thought Layton might’ve changed his mind about the whole thing. Then she started noticing Josie and her husband’s conversations turned into whispers whenever they saw her. Francine confronted Layton about it. He called her an eavesdropping nag and told her it was none of her business. In turn, she told him to get out. In the margin of the printed summary was scribbled, “pages in file.”

  Rice asked Francine why Layton waited so long to avenge the woman’s death. Francine’s answer confirmed what Tori already knew—Fackrell had been locked up for ten months.

  At the bottom of the page was a handwritten note: “Go over list. Check if any have occurred and determine if Josie did anything illegal. Investigation must be completed within 6 months, before Josie turns 18.”

  Since Francine had given Tori access to the files and provided her with some copies, Tori surmised the investigator had concluded Josie committed crimes working for her father, and Francine wanted her daughter tried as a juvenile. Had Francine presented the findings to the police, she would’ve been alienated by her daughter and father-in-law. Tori doubted Francine would’ve been concerned about her estranged husband’s reaction.

  Tori glanced at her watch—4:47 p.m. With time running short, she turned to the next document. Looking at the heading, she knew it was the notepad pages Francine found in the garbage. It didn’t have a check mark in the top corner. A line above the list caught her eye—“get Brandon Burgess back into States.” She breezed over it and realized over half of the items had already happened—damaging Brandon’s house, forcing his wife to move into Burgess’s apartment, black roses, break-ins at night. “Car crash” appeared a few times. The writing around those entries was blurry and smeared like something had spilled on the list, making it unreadable.

  With no time to dwell on it, she picked up a stack of pictures below the document. Tori gasped when she saw the image of phony Keith Dreyer. A check mark was in the corner. On the back was his real name—David Layton. A picture of a man with a full beard and wearing paint-stained jeans and t-shirt was on the next picture. It was also check marked. Rob Fackrell was handwritten on the bottom.

  Thumbing through the top corners of the pictures, she saw they were all check marked. Tori turned to the next picture and saw a large dent in the side of a white truck. There were two more photos of the white truck—one showed the tail gate with “Mid-Town Auto Restoration” in a green emblem, but no license plate. Ashley’s accident? The last picture of the truck was a front view with a license plate. Did Layton crash into Keith Dreyer’s car so he could pretend to be him? The following three pictures were of a hospital hallway— Layton peered through the window of an ICU, Fackrell doing the same thing on another one. The last shot was of a bandaged up patient with tubes sticking out everywhere. Is that Ashley or Keith Dreyer?

  A couple of pictures of Tori’s house came next. The first one showed a white truck in her driveway with a man carrying a tool box. It appeared he was going toward her front door that stood wide open. In the following picture, he was moving away from the door. Staring at it, Tori thought the guy was Fackrell. Did Layton take those pictures to pin the damage on Fackrell? If so, how did Rice get ahold of them?

  A picture of Brandon’s apartment building was next. After that, a photo of his hallway door. The image of a young, slender woman, maybe a teenager, putting a florist box in front of that door followed. The interior of Brandon’s apartment was displayed on several pictures and a couple of pictures featured his alarm system panel. Tori’s eyes popped wide open when she saw herself sleeping and Layton standing on the other side of the bed. Did the teenager take that picture?

  The following pictures showed Layton purchasing various items—a black rose, an embossed invitation, and renting a black Suburban. A few pictures of Tori walking along the sidewalk. Those pictures also captured a man watching her. A yellow circle had been drawn around him. Tori focused on his face. She couldn’t make out his features, but assumed she’d be able to with the aid of a magnifying glass.

  The last picture was of Jerry, the apartment build
ing’s temporary doorman. Tori had already suspected he was involved with Fackrell. She turned it over and was surprised how wrong she had been. On the back was written: “Jerry Hanson hired by Brandon Burgess to watch over Tori Burgess. His job is to be kept a secret from Mrs. Burgess.”

  Below the pictures were copies of financial documents and phone records. They all had check marks on them except for Josie Layton’s bank account statement.

  The door to the conference squeaked open, startling Tori.

  Rice, carrying the thin folder walked in. “Do you have any questions?”

  Tori glanced at the documents in the folder she hadn’t touched yet. “Can I come back tomorrow and finish going through these?”

  “No.” He held up the folder in his hand. “The copies in here will be sufficient to take to the police and show several crimes have been committed by David Layton and Rob Fackrell.”

  “And that’s exactly where I’ll be going after I leave here.”

  Rice smiled. “Mrs. Layton will be pleased to hear that.”

  “How were you able to acquire all of these pictures?”

  “Since my client was concerned about her daughter, she often happened to be in the same vicinity as her estranged husband.”

  “She took all of the pictures.”

  “That’s not what I said, Mrs. Burgess. I have to leave here in five minutes. Do you have any other brief questions?” Rice handed the thin folder to Tori, and then he pushed the pictures and documents spread out on the table back into the main folder and picked it up.

  “Do you know who drove the dented white truck?”

  “Rob Fackrell was at work when the accident occurred.”

  Interesting. Tori had guessed that Layton, as a lawyer, would’ve avoided committing that type of crime. At the same time, she figured the truck was registered to Rob Fackrell. Can Fackrell prove he was at work?

  “Any idea why David Layton pretended to be Keith Dreyer and dated me?” Holding the folder prepared for her, Tori stood up.