Dying Scream

by Burton, Mary

  “No.”

  “Did you show this to Detective Hudson when he spoke to you four years ago?”

  “No. I didn’t think about it.”

  “What made you think about it today?”

  “My niece went shopping for a homecoming dress this past weekend. Reminded me of when Jill and I shopped for her prom dress. I don’t know, the dots just connected.”

  C.C. glanced at the book so full of young smiling faces. What a damn waste. As she turned the pages, a postcard fluttered to the floor. C.C. picked it up. It featured a picture of Texas wildflowers, was addressed to Mrs. Lable and from Jill. Moving to Texas. Luv you! Jill.

  “That arrived a few days after she left,” Mrs. Lable said.

  Rhonda had sent a postcard. Italy. “Mind if I hang on to this?”

  “I’ll want it back. It’s all I have of her.”

  Adrianna’s gaze sightlessly skimmed the dozen wallpaper books piled open and waiting on her workbench. She’d been flipping through the books for an hour looking for the right paper that would enhance but not overwhelm a retired admiral’s study. The job’s excitement had waned in the shadow of fatigue and nerves, which waged a tug-of-war match with her thoughts.

  Adrianna reached for her coffee and took a sip. Cold. She rose and moved to the front of the shop where she kept an espresso machine for clients. The corner coffee shop’s five-dollar lattes had prompted the machine’s purchase. The machine had paid for itself in one month.

  White muslin furniture samples were draped with hand-loomed chenille, linen-cut velvets, and rich tapestries. Antique French country end tables sported odd collectible accessories including a hand-painted rooster, blue and white vases, and inlaid china boxes. She’d learned early on to supplement her design work by selling unique antique store finds to her clients. Now she was selling it all at a forty percent discount.

  Adrianna loaded fresh espresso into the machine when a knock on her door had her turning. Her assistant Phyllis Gentry waved to her. In her midfifties, Phyllis sported a khaki skirt, a crisp white polo shirt and a pink headband to hold back bobbed brown hair. A former math teacher, Phyllis had whipped Adrianna’s accounts receivable into top shape with brutal efficiency.

  Phyllis shouted through the glass front door. “I lost my keys.”

  Adrianna’s annoyance wiped the welcoming smile from her face as she moved to the door and opened it. “What do you mean, you lost your keys?”

  Phyllis looked equally annoyed and frustrated. “I’ve looked everywhere for them. All I can think is my husband took them accidentally when he went on his fishing trip. I’ve got backups to get me around, but I don’t have an extra store key on that ring.”

  “When will Harry be back?”

  “Two weeks.” Phyllis smelled like magnolias. “I’ve tried to call him but he’s out of cell phone range. But he’s promised to call from a landline mid-week.”

  Adrianna sighed. “I’ve got an extra key. But you need to let me know if Harry doesn’t have those keys. I’ve got too much in the store to risk having a key floating around.”

  “I promise.” She set her Vera Bradley purse on the front counter before she leveled her gaze on Adrianna. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “A couple of hours.” She retrieved her coffee and sipped it. “Hey, can you mind the front? I’ve got to finish my sketch for tomorrow’s presentation.”

  “For the admiral?”

  “Ahoy.”

  Phyllis laughed as she tucked her purse under the front counter. “Don’t worry. Unless fire or blood is involved, I will leave you alone.”

  “Thanks.” Adrianna retreated back into her office and just as she sat down the phone rang. “I’ve got it, Phyllis!”

  She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  For a moment there was only silence.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Craig, babe.” The voice sounded just above a whisper.

  The hairs on the back of Adrianna’s neck rose. She gripped the phone. Her breath grew short and shallow. The voice sounded exactly like Craig’s. “This isn’t funny. Who is this?”

  “It’s Craig,” he whispered. “I just wanted to call and tell you how much I love you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?” The card, the aftershave flyer, and now a call. “You are cruel and twisted.”

  “I love you, babe.”

  “Damn you! Who is this?”

  “Your husband. Did you get the flowers?”

  “What flowers?”

  “They’ll be there soon.”

  “Leave me the hell alone.” Adrianna slammed down the phone so hard her wedding rings dug into her finger. Her pulse thundered in her neck. “Damn it. This has got to stop.”

  Adrianna stared down at the phone, wondering what she could do to stop these pranks.

  Suddenly, the nerves in her spine tingled anew. She spun around half-fearing she’d find Craig there, knowing it was likely Phyllis.

  It wasn’t Craig. Or Phyllis.

  It was Gage.

  Wide shoulders filled the doorjamb and fury radiated from him. “Mind telling me what that was about?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thursday, September 28, 1:00 p.m.

  Adrianna’s face flushed with anger and worry. Her hands trembled at her side. He’d never seen her so truly rattled. “What are you doing here?”

  Gage moved into the room, ignoring the question. “What was that all about?”

  Her back as stiff as wood, she lifted her chin. In an instant she seemed to rally and the veil of ice cooled her expression. “A prank call.”

  The room was neat, organized, and filled with more decorating books than he ever knew existed. Disorganization and out-of-control clutter could have overwhelmed the space, but didn’t. Like Adrianna, the area was neat, organized, and stylish. “Someone who says they’re your dead husband. That’s some prank.”

  Adrianna shoved long, trembling fingers through her hair. “Funny, right?”

  He moved to her phone, picked up her receiver, and dialed star sixty-nine. Within seconds an automated voice came on the line and gave him the number of the last incoming call. He picked up a Montblanc pen from her desk and scratched the number on a blue Post-it note.

  “What’s that?” she said.

  “The number of the person who just called you.” He hung up and dialed another number. When the police department communications officer answered, he gave her the number and asked for a quick back trace. On hold, he let the phone slip below his ear. He towered over her. “Should be just a second before I have a name to go with the number.”

  She clasped her hands so tightly her knuckles whitened. “It’s that easy?”

  “Sometimes.” She looked perfect, as always, dressed in a lemon-colored wrap top, black form-fitting slacks, and a gold necklace that looked expensive. Long hair draped her shoulders and accentuated a high slash of cheekbones and long neck. Gone were the glasses, and make-up covered the freckles on her nose.

  He glanced down at the sketch on her desk. It was clearly a man’s study. Deep blues, khakis, and whites set off the deep tones of a large wooden desk and two overstuffed club chairs in front of a fireplace. He thought about his own den painted antique white and stocked with a couple of La-Z-Boys and a wide-screen TV. Practical and no frills, just the way he liked it.

  “You don’t have to do this. It was just a bad joke.” Adrianna’s perfume had changed since they’d been together. Flowers had been replaced by spice.

  “Won’t take but a minute.”

  “Detective Hudson,” the communications officer said.

  Adrianna opened her mouth to protest.

  Gage raised a finger. “Do you have a name? Thanks.” He hung up the phone.

  “Well?” Adrianna looked at him hopefully.

  It dug at him that he didn’t have an answer for her. “The number’s no good. Untraceable cell.”

  She sho
ved out a breath. “Great.”

  “Have you been getting a lot of calls like that?” He watched her closely, finding he learned more from her body language than he did her words.

  “No. That was the first phone call.”

  A hesitation in her voice had him asking, “What else happened?”

  She paused, unclasped her hands, and then dropped them to her side. “I found a card on my car windshield on Tuesday. It was an anniversary card.” A hint of color rose in her pale cheeks. “Tuesday would have been Craig’s and my third wedding anniversary.”

  “Where was your car parked?”

  “In my driveway.”

  He frowned. “What can you tell me about the card?”

  “Standard anniversary card. But it was signed on the inside. Love, Craig.”

  “Where’s the card?”

  “I tossed it in my garbage can. And the trash man came yesterday, so it’s gone.”

  “Do you know who could be doing this?”

  “I know there are a lot of people who hate to see the Thornton estate being sold. Lots of tradition in that area. The Thornton family was a big part of that county’s history. And now I’m selling the land to a man who’s going to build thirty homes on it.”

  Gage reached in his coat pocket, pulled out a business card, and scrawled his cell number on it. “If it happens again, call me.”

  She took the card, frowning down at it. Accepting his help clearly didn’t set well with her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just came from a meeting with Janet Guthrie. She told me Craig and Rhonda were having an affair.” He watched her reaction closely.

  Disbelief mingled with anger. “She’s lying.”

  “Why would she lie?”

  “She resented Craig. I think she’d do anything to ruin his reputation.”

  Gage folded his arms. “My ex-wife said she’d never cheat on me. Twenty-twenty hindsight revealed just how paper thin her tales had been.”

  “I know it sounds like I’m being foolish. But I’m not.”

  “You broke up with him once before. Was it over a woman then?”

  “No. I broke up with Craig because he needed to grow up. I refused to marry a boy when I needed a man in my life.”

  “So you left him to teach him a lesson?” Resentment crept into his voice.

  “When I left him it was for good.” She held his gaze. “When I was dating you, I didn’t plan to return to him.”

  “But you did.”

  “Yes.” She adjusted the bracelet on her wrist. “Even you have to admit that things had soured between us by that time. You were working that case. You never had time for me.”

  Gage refused to apologize. He had been working the case of a missing child. Yeah, he’d been moody as hell. He’d taken it out on Adrianna. She’d started pulling away from him but he’d figured he could make it up to her later. He’d been wrong.

  “Did Craig do anything that might have made you think twice?”

  “He wasn’t having an affair with Rhonda. Craig knew what my father’s infidelities did to my mother and how I resented him for all the pain. I wouldn’t have tolerated that kind of marriage.”

  He believed her. The question was, had Craig fooled her? “Any time that made you think twice about his actions? Something he said or did that didn’t fit.”

  She huffed out a breath and for a moment he thought she’d not answer. And then her brow wrinkled as if a memory elbowed its way to the front of her mind. “There was one time. At our wedding reception. Something had really rattled him but he wouldn’t say what it was.”

  “Was he upset before the wedding?”

  “No, he seemed fine. It was about midway through the reception. He was laughing one minute and the next he looked ready to jump out of his skin.”

  “He get a call?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. There was so much going on. Brides don’t get much time to think on their wedding day. Do you think Rhonda called him?”

  “According to Janet, Rhonda was blackmailing Craig. Rhonda wanted to marry him, but ended up with cash instead.”

  A bitter smile tipped the edge of her lips. “He never would have married her.”

  “Why?”

  “He wouldn’t have married a nobody over a Barrington. The fact that we’d grown up in the same world was so important to him. He liked the connections my family brought.” A bitter smile twisted her lips. “Looks like I got the last laugh after all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not a real Barrington. I’m adopted.”

  “Do you really think Craig wouldn’t have married you if he knew you were adopted?”

  “He might have dated plain old Sarah Turner, but he’d not have married her. Bloodlines were very important to Craig and his mother. He could be a bit of a snob.”

  “Sarah Turner is your birth name?”

  “Yes.”

  Sarah. The name didn’t fit her. Adrianna did. Her upbringing more than genetics had molded her.

  “I can assure you Janet is wrong about the affair. He’d have had no reason to kill her.”

  Gage pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped through a couple of pages. “What was the name of the nursing home that took care of Craig?”

  “Shady Grove Estates. Dr. Henry Gregory was his attending. Why?”

  “Just curious. His medical bills must have cost you a fortune.”

  “Insurance barely covered half of the first year. He’d downgraded his policy. After that it was a real struggle.”

  “Didn’t the sale of the gallery help with the bills?”

  “Janet paid half of what the gallery was worth.”

  Gage shook his head. “I know critical care is expensive, but so expensive that you sold your home, the gallery, and now the estate? What am I missing?”

  “It wasn’t just the medical bills. There was quite a bit of debt before the accident. Craig made a lot of bad investments. I learned shortly after we married that the Thorntons had been living on credit for over a decade. I’ve sold everything they owned and I’m barely breaking even. If Mazur wants his money back…”

  “You don’t have it.”

  “No. And no doubt he’ll take my house, my mother’s house, and my business.”

  “Why your mother’s home?”

  “Dad left everything to me with the understanding I take care of her.”

  “You’re on the edge?”

  “Couldn’t get any closer without falling.”

  He felt for her. Wanted to help her. And a week ago, he might have seen his way to do that. Despite their history, she was in trouble.

  But he couldn’t help her now. If anything, he needed to maintain the distance between them to solve this case. “Why didn’t you tell me Rhonda Minor’s brother came to Craig’s funeral?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t remember it. That whole time is a blur.”

  “Now that I’ve jogged your memory, what do you recall?”

  “I asked if he’d found his sister. He said no.”

  “Do me a favor and start thinking about that whole time. Real hard.”

  “Jerk.”

  Adrianna flung her pencil on the drawing board. Gage’s visit had rendered her creatively dead in the water.

  Elbows on the table, she cradled her head in her hands. Gage was a smart detective, tenacious at times. He was not going to give up on this case until it was solved.

  The chime on the front door rang. She checked her watch. Rising, she moved through the curtains separating her office from the retail space, half-expecting Gage.

  Phyllis had just signed for a stunning bouquet of white roses. She turned toward Adrianna. “Have you ever seen flowers so lovely?”

  The blooms drove her deeper into her sour mood. “Who sent them?”

  Phyllis searched through the blooms and found a small white card. “Here it is.”

  Adrianna opened the envelope and glanced at the bold script on the card. It read: L
ove, Craig. “Damn it.”

  Phyllis’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

  She grabbed the bouquet, wincing when one of the thorns pricked her finger. Blood bloomed on her thumb. “A really bad joke.”

  “It’s a stunning arrangement of flowers. How could it be a joke?”

  Adrianna handed her the card. “Read it.”

  “Oh, Adrianna,” Phyllis said. “This is awful.”

  Flowers in hand, Adrianna stormed out the front door of the shop and down the sidewalk toward the Dumpster out back.

  “Hey, Adrianna.” The sharp tone of Kendall’s voice had her pausing in mid-stride.

  Adrianna turned to see her sister stride toward her. Kendall wore a chocolate pantsuit with a tailored jacket that skimmed her hips and a cream-colored silk blouse. Her dark hair was woven into a twist. Dark sunglasses and pointed black high heels completed the look.

  “What are you doing?” Kendall asked.

  “I’ll be right back.” High heels clicked on the asphalt. “I’m headed to the Dumpster.”

  “Tell me you aren’t tossing those flowers.” Kendall’s long legs ate up the space between them and she caught up to Adrianna as she reached the Dumpster.

  “I am.”

  Kendall touched a blossom. “Good Lord, why? These flowers are stunning.”

  Adrianna lowered the vase, swallowing sudden tears that threatened. “The card reads Love, Craig.”

  Kendall’s gaze sharpened. She took the flowers from Adrianna and tossed them in the Dumpster. The glass vase shattered on the Dumpster’s metal floor and white roses scattered across the filthy bottom.

  Adrianna stared at the splay of flowers. “I carried white roses in my wedding bouquet because of their poetic meaning: I am worthy of you.”

  “Let’s go have coffee.”

  Adrianna swiped away a tear. “I felt anything but worthy that morning.”

  “Honey, why?”

  “I loved Craig, but not like a wife should have.” She tried to smile. “I never told anyone that.”

  Kendall touched her shoulder. “Coffee. Now.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got a design to finish. And I’ve got to get out to the estate and oversee the furniture removal.”