Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel

by Lori L. Robinett

  On a whim, she punched in Paul’s phone number, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. The phone rang twice, then a woman answered, her voice melodic and smooth. There was a man in the background, but it wasn’t clear enough to be sure if it was Paul or not. The woman said hello again, then hung up.

  Andi was so frustrated.

  She needed Paul.

  Caren didn’t.

  29

  She woke up shortly after four in the morning, unable to sleep. After hours of restlessness tossing and turning, she finally rolled out of bed. She dragged herself to the bedroom and took a long, hot shower. It felt good, with the soothing water rushing over her body. After her shower, she popped another pain pill then went to the bedroom to get dressed and noticed the red message light blinking on the answering machine.

  It was that voice again. She listened to the message, and then listened again, to see if she recognized the caller. She didn’t, so she listened yet again.

  “I know what really happened.”

  Damn.

  She dropped onto the bed. What the hell was she going to do? And why did that voice sound so familiar? Something about the way he said “know,” clipped off.

  A noise downstairs piqued her attention, so she went to the door to listen. Everything was quiet, but she slipped into her clothes and went downstairs to check things out. A car pulled out of the driveway, tires crunching in the gravel, but was gone by the time she got to the living room window. She ran to the door and opened it, hoping to get a look at the vehicle. Her bare foot landed on a big white envelope that slid on the polished wood floor, and her arms cartwheeled in an awkward attempt to keep her balance. She succeeded, but barely, and glanced around to see if anyone was watching.

  Mrs. Harrison stood at the edge of her driveway, a newspaper gripped in one hand. She fluttered her fingers in a wave. Andi waved back, then scooped up the envelope and ducked inside.

  The block print on the envelope simply said Mrs. Adams. She slipped her thumb under the flap and opened it. Inside was a glossy 8 x 10, grainy, black and white. It was a rainy night on a dark road. A man and woman stood on the shoulder next to a dark-colored SUV.

  The photo fell to the floor, and she was right behind it.

  The room spun around her, her breath came in short gasps. The rug had been pulled out from under her. She blinked and swallowed hard, covered in a cold sweat. Goosebumps pebbled her arms and she rubbed them vigorously, trying to warm up and get some sense of reality.

  Dear God, someone out there really did know what happened.

  She wheezed, struggling to suck in air. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the dizziness got worse and images flashed through her mind of that stormy night. The room spun and she fought to maintain control. Her mind raced and she struggled to be rational. It was her only hope if she wanted to survive.

  Who would have been out there on a night like that? And even if someone happened to be out there, who would have a camera? Thoughts swirled like a tornado and she forced herself to look at the picture analytically. The photo was black and white, grainy, as if it had been taken from a distance with a telephoto lens. The only light that night had been from the moon.

  She picked up the photo and examined it. Neither of the faces were clear by any stretch of the imagination, but the license plate was readable. A road sign in the background was visible, 2 miles to the Clifftop. It wouldn’t take a huge leap to figure out who was in that photo. She flipped it over and looked at the back. Kodak paper, but that could be purchased anywhere. The quality of the print was good, but with home printers these days, it could have been printed anywhere.

  Sweat beaded on her brow. Her heart thumped so loud against her ribcage, it took a moment for her to realize the telephone was ringing. She stared at the hall table where the telephone sat, then just before the machine picked up, she crawled forward and snatched the handset off the base.

  “Hey, girl! You sound out of breath. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Dana’s cheerful voice greeted her.

  Andi sagged against the wall, “No, no, not at all. I was just coming in from outside and ran for the phone.”

  “Outside?” She was probably looking at her watch. “You know it’s only a little after 8, right?”

  Andi laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “Guess I was feeling productive today. What’s up?”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, but better.” She repeated, “What’s up?”

  Dana puffed out a breath. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve decided where we’re staying while we’re in Atlantic City. Want to hear now, or want to wait until lunch?”

  Andi clutched the photo in her fist. No one could learn about this. The fact that she was all alone in the world hit her like a ton of bricks. Even her best friend couldn’t understand the gravity of what she’d done. It had been an accident. At least, that’s what she’d told herself. But looking at the images in black and white made her wonder.

  Her friend’s voice jolted Andi out of her head, “Hey! If you want to wait, it’s no biggie!”

  Andi shook herself, and squeezed her eyes closed, but the images from that night swam on her eyelids like the projection of a movie, “No, I absolutely want to hear now. What’s the plan?”

  “We’re staying at the Tropicana! Woo-hoo! Doesn’t that sound awesome? They’ve got a bunch of packages, so I want you to help me pick out which wedding we’re going to have. Want to meet at the Black Sails at noon?”

  Her enthusiasm coaxed a smile from Andi. “See you there.”

  “See ya!”

  Andi hung up and looked down at the photo clutched in her hand. Dana’s excitement was contagious. Starting a new chapter in life had that effect on folks. As Andi looked around at the heavy traditional furniture and dark walls that Chad picked out, she thought that perhaps the time had come for her to do the same.

  Maybe Paul would want a change of scenery, too, after finding out about Caren. Missouri wouldn’t be bad. That would be a change of scenery, that’s for sure, and her mother would be thrilled. Before she could think about that step, though, the blackmailer had to be dealt with. She tapped the edge of the photo against her leg and chewed on her lower lip.

  The phone rang again and Andi snatched up the receiver, thinking it was Dana calling to tell me another wedding detail. It wasn’t.

  “My patience is wearing thin.”

  She was torn between fear and frustration. She demanded angrily, “Who is this?”

  This time she got a response. The slow voice said, “Do you like the picture I left for you?”

  “Who are you?” Her voice rose with tension.

  Silence hummed over the line, so she repeated the question. Still, silence. She heaved a sigh. “What do you want? Tell me what you want, specifically, and I’ll get it for you, or leave me the hell alone!”

  “Ahhh, now you’re getting the picture.” Slow laughter followed, which gave her goosebumps. “Chad had the coordinates, an unrecorded deed and stock certificates. I want them. You have no right to them.”

  No right? Anger flared. “Chad was my husband!”

  The voice remained calm, but smug. “So you admit your wrongdoing?”

  “I admit nothing. This conversation is over.” But she couldn’t bring herself to hang up the phone. Her knuckles whitened and her heart raced so fast it hurt.

  “It’s not over. Not yet. But I’ll let you have your fun first. Go to A.C., have a good time. We’ll take care of business when you get home.” He paused and she heard faint breathing. “You’d just better hope the old man doesn’t die before you get back, or the cops’ll be waiting for you to land.”

  Click.

  She stared at the phone and
shivered as a chill ran up her spine.

  30

  The rest of the morning passed like molasses. She kept the blinds closed, and turned the ringer off on the phone. When she left the house to go to lunch, she looked around as casually as she could and tried to take note of every vehicle on the street.

  Mrs. Harrison hunched over the strip of flowers between their houses. She waved, “Did you hear about Bruce Peabody?”

  Andi opened the car door. “No, what about him?”

  “Had a heart attack and died in his sleep.” Bruce was a lobster fisherman, a fixture on the harbor front. The old lady grinned and turned back to her weeding. “Good way to go!”

  Andi shook her head at her neighbor’s obsession with death and hopped in the Jeep. She backed out and headed towards town. Her eyes drifted to the rearview mirror, looking for a tail. A blaring horn broke her reverie and saved her from a head on collision at First and Pine. She shook herself and blinked back tears. The blackmailer wouldn’t be following her to lunch.

  She didn’t think so anyway.

  Lunch was a casual affair, thankfully. Andi found it difficult to focus, and she caught bits and pieces of conversation. Dana had brochures and talked about the amount of time in the chapel and the slider buffet and the champagne toast and a premium brand open bar and chocolate fondue. Then she mentioned that her fiancé wanted to go with one package, but she wanted the cheaper package. She mentioned a showroom and IMAX and then it was back to the chapels and their creams and greens and wouldn’t that be pretty for a wedding.

  The only colors Andi could think about were black and white.

  The colors of the grainy photograph stuffed between her mattress and box springs at home. The colors prisoners wear who do time for murder.

  Finally, thankfully, the minute hand on the clock on the wall inched up until it pointed toward the 12. Dana glanced at her watch and frowned.

  “Damn! Lunch hour just isn’t enough. And I did not mean to talk the entire time. Look, I didn’t eat hardly any of my lunch.” Dana glanced at Andi’s plate, then at Andi. “And you didn’t eat any of your fries. I’ve never known you to skip fries when Chad wasn’t-“

  Dana’s mouth hung open for a moment as she caught herself. She snapped her mouth shut. Andi smiled sadly and shrugged. Chad’s habit of criticizing every bite of food that went in her mouth used to embarrass her. At least that’s one thing she didn’t have to endure anymore, but he was right. Every bite she put in her mouth went straight to her rounded hips.

  Dana leaned forward. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. That just popped out. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not a problem. Here, it’s on me today.” Andi tossed a twenty and a five on the table as the two pushed their chairs back. Andi tugged her shirt down over her hips, self conscious of their fullness. Dana walked towards the law office, and Andi headed home, wondering what might be waiting for her. More pictures? Messages on the machine?

  The mail had come by the time she arrived home, but it was just the usual – junk mail and bills. Again, she took note of the vehicles around, but didn’t see anything out of place. Once inside, she flipped the deadbolt and headed upstairs to the darkened bedroom to check the machine. Light slipped in around the blinds. The red blinking light gave her pause, and she considered pressing delete, but couldn’t. She pushed play and sat down on the bed to listen.

  A quiet, vaguely strained voice said, “You there? It’s me. Thought I might stop by after work and check on you. Call me at the Chamber if you get in before 4.”

  The sound of Paul’s voice surprised her. The computerized voice after his message said he had called at 1:12 pm. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. She hadn’t missed him by much. She played the message again, and again thought he sounded a little off. Maybe he’d found out about Caren’s infidelity. The corners of her mouth curled up.

  She punched in the Chamber’s number and asked to be transferred to Paul Thompson. He answered briskly.

  “Hey, lover,” she said in her sexiest voice.

  “Hey, yourself. Been out today?”

  “Just got back.”

  “Really? Why?”

  She blinked, taken aback at his tone. She fought her first instinct to apologize for going out, and instead straightened and said, “My best friend Dana and I were talking wedding plans.”

  “Oh, right. You’re going to be her maid of honor.”

  Was the fact that she was involved in a wedding bothering him? Jealous? Nervous? “Yup. That’s me. You want to stop by after you get done there?”

  “Sure. It’ll be a little after 4.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  After she hung up, she went through the house room by room, checking the windows to make sure they were locked. Being alone freaked her out. She wasn’t good on her own. She kept going over the conversation. His voice sounded a little stiff, and there was that comment ‘been out today?’ She shrugged it off, then reminded herself not to read too much into it. Between the years of Chad’s constant monitoring of her whereabouts and the surprise delivery of the photograph, she was on edge. It would be good to spend a little time relaxing with Paul, and it would give her a chance to make sure he knew how good life could be with her.

  With that in mind, she went to the closet and picked out fresh clothes. She pulled on black jeans, to make her butt look smaller, and a pale pink blouse so she could leave an extra button undone. With a dab of product rubbed between her palms, she ran her fingers through her short hair and tousled it. The fresh look made her look younger, spunkier. With a smile, she admired her look, glad she’d taken the plunge and cut her long locks. It might be a cliché, but she felt like a new woman.

  And it was time for a new start.

  She skipped down the stairs and lit a couple of candles, then chose a bottle of wine to chill. After she selected a couple of goblets from the wine cart and set them out so they would be ready, she flipped through CDs to look for something to set the mood until the doorbell rang. The clock on the mantle said 3:30, and Paul had said after 4. Instantly, her breath quickened and her stomach clenched. She padded as softly as she could to the front door and looked through the peephole. Paul stood there, shoulders hunched up as if trying to stay warm.

  Or hidden.

  She opened the door and stepped back. He came in, pushed the door shut behind him and kissed her. It was a deep kiss, his lips taking hers - so unlike his usual greeting. It took her breath away. Her eyes opened wide, and she felt her body respond before she even realized what was happening. She melted against him, until he pulled away abruptly, grabbed her hand and led her to the family room.

  “We need to talk,” he said as he pulled her down beside him on the sofa. He sat leaning forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” She kept her face a blank slate, impassive. But would she appear uninterested? Her eyebrows pushed together in a frown.

  He let his hands drop and looked at her. “I think Caren is having an affair.”

  She patted his thigh and said gently, “Well, sweetheart, is that such a bad thing? I mean, you are, too.”

  His forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows shot up. “That’s different.”

  Typical man. Of course he thought it was different. “Is it?”

  He blinked twice, rapidly. “Yes.”

  His ego was bruised. She probed gently, “How?”

  “It just is.”

  She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. This wasn’t the reaction she hoped for. Then again, what man could ever conceive that his wife would cheat on him? She scooted closer and draped her arm over his shoulders.

  She lowered her head and asked, “What makes you think she’s screwing around on you?”

  His piercing blue eyes flashed as he said
, “I think she’s taking trips with this guy.”

  “How do you know?” She held her breath, wondering how much he would share with her.

  He shrugged her arm off his shoulders and stood. She hesitated a moment, then pushed to her feet. His back was to her. His broad shoulders rose and fell, and she yearned to touch him but was afraid to. If he rejected her, she would die.

  He whispered, “Did you ever cheat on Chad?”

  She gasped. “No! Absolutely not!”

  “I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to fall for you.”

  Perhaps a nudge could swing the balance her way. “I never meant to fall for you, either.”

  He turned to look at her, and she gazed into his eyes. Those eyes were like pools of deep water, and she wanted to drown in them. She stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. He didn’t pull back. She tipped her head back and stretched up to kiss him. He responded, then stiffened.

  And not in a good way.

  His voice thickened. “What are you doing?”

  “Your wife is cheating on you. So why not?” She let her hand trail down his arm, then took him by the hand and led him to the stairs. He stopped with one foot on the bottom step.

  “I can’t do this. I am a married man. It’s different for you. Your husband is dead.” He motioned to the wedding photo still displayed on the console table. “You can’t even get rid of all of his stuff. Won’t let me help you do it. I have a wife at home waiting for me, and right now I need to be with her.”

  He pulled away, then walked out the front door.

  Andi stood at the bottom of the stairs, deflated. With Chad dead, she was free to get on with life. She’d wasted so much time with Chad, and felt as if time was ticking away far too quickly. Paul would be a dream come true, and he was slipping away. All she had to do was get rid of Caren.

  And stay out of jail.

  31

  She stayed up until nearly one in the morning, worrying. Someone out there knew – or thought they knew - the truth about that accident. She’d been so caught up in life - worrying about money, her home being sold, having no credit cards, losing her job, worrying about Paul’s marriage, she’d nearly forgotten about it until the pictures and phone calls.