Dying Scream

by Burton, Mary

  Gage first. Mazur second. As she dialed Gage’s number and rounded the corner of her street, she spotted the cop car parked in front of her house. She didn’t have to look inside the car to know who it was. Gage Hudson, but there were no signs of his partner.

  Stomach clenching, she pulled into her driveway, shut off the car, and grabbed her purse. She marched straight toward him.

  “Ms. Barrington.” Gage sounded annoyed.

  Good. She wasn’t in such a stellar mood herself. “Detective. I just got a call from a reporter, Brett Newington. Channel 10. They know about the graves.” She didn’t bother to turn but focused on unlocking the deadbolt on her front door.

  Shadows from the post light sharpened the angles on his face. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t talk to him. He’ll do whatever he can to get the story.”

  “I can handle it myself.”

  Gage shook his head. “He’s not a good guy. Nasty stories have surfaced about him. Nothing has been proven, but he’s trouble.”

  The hint of genuine concern smoothed out her frayed nerves. “Okay, I’ll be careful. What are you doing here?”

  “I have a few questions for you.”

  She opened the front door and clicked on the foyer light. Grabbing the mail from the box by the front door, she shifted through it, half-expecting a card laced with aftershave or a creepy endearment. There was nothing. She wavered between being disappointed and relieved because with Gage here, she’d have a witness. “What kind of questions?”

  His gaze dipped to the mail in her hand and then back up to her face. “About your cell phone bill.”

  “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. Can we do this another time?”

  Even white teeth flashed. “We need to do this now.”

  “Or you’re going to drag me downtown?”

  He slid his hands into his pockets. The casual gesture oddly made him more intimidating. “Basically.”

  She pursed her lips. “Ask away.”

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs, one foot resting on the second step. “You want to do this on your front porch?”

  Adrianna glanced up and down the street wondering who was watching. “Fine, come inside.”

  She flipped on lights as she headed down the center hallway toward the kitchen. Gage closed the front door with a soft click and followed her, his purposeful steps never wavering.

  In the kitchen, his gaze meandered around, absorbing every detail. He seemed a bit surprised by what he saw. The room was scrubbed clean but the stainless equipment’s well-used patina reflected lots of use. Batter stains discolored the pages of an open cookbook on the counter. A cherry print apron dusted with flour draped over a chair at the table. It was a cook’s kitchen.

  “Why do you want to know about my cell phone?”

  “You called a woman named Kelly Jo Morgan in September four years ago.”

  “Four years ago.” They’d just broken up about then—a fact she doubted was lost on him. “I barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday. Who’s Kelly Jo, anyway?”

  “According to your records, you talked to her three times on September second four years ago. Each call lasted between five and fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay. Who was she?”

  “She was a stripper at a bar called Doxies,” Gage said.

  She’d have laughed if he didn’t look so serious. “Now why would I be calling a stripper?”

  “We believe she was dating Craig Thornton during that summer you two were apart.”

  Adrianna shoved a hand through her hair. She’d heard from Craig’s mother he was mixing with a different crowd. “I was dating you that summer. I didn’t care who Craig saw.”

  He tightened and released his jaw. “You sure about that? In the end you couldn’t let him go.”

  “When I left Craig I thought it was for good.”

  “You went back to him.” Accusation coated the words.

  “It was complicated.”

  A bitter smile tipped the edge of his lips. “Black and white where I’m sitting.”

  A bolt of sadness shot through her body. Those days had been so painful. As much as she’d told herself she was doing the right thing when she’d left Gage, she’d felt awful. “I didn’t call her.”

  “The calls were made on September second.”

  “I didn’t call her.”

  Gage laid the records on the granite counter. He pointed to the lines highlighted in yellow. “This is your number?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to study the sheet. “Yes.”

  “This Kelly Jo Morgan’s number?”

  A frown furrowed her brow. “I don’t know what to tell you. May I look at the printout?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She picked it up and studied it. More memories swirled in her head. Slowly the day trickled back. “Mom and Frances were giving a party that weekend. It was a celebration of sorts.”

  “You and Thornton had reunited.” He ground the words out as if he had cut glass in his mouth.

  “Yes.” Uneasiness had made her feel like a fraud that day. That summer with Gage had changed her and she didn’t feel as if she belonged in her old life anymore. “I remember that night was a whirlwind. Lots of catching up after having been out of touch all summer. I saw so many people that night I didn’t have time to go to the restroom, let alone have three telephone conversations with a strange woman.”

  “It’s easy to slip away in the middle of a party and make a call.”

  “Not for fifteen minutes, like this last call. My mother was glued at my side almost the entire night.” She shot him an annoyed look.

  “Where was your phone?”

  “I don’t know. I left my purse in my mom’s bedroom. Anyone could have gone in and used it.”

  “Did Thornton know the purse and phone were in that room?”

  “Yes.” She dug long fingers through her hair. “Why was he calling her?”

  “Kelly Jo told her sister she was going to have Craig’s baby.”

  Color drained from her face. Hot tears sprang into her eyes. “Was she?”

  “No.”

  She swiped away a tear and turned away. “Sorry.”

  Gage slowly collected the printouts and closed the file.

  Adrianna cleared her throat. “She’s the other woman found on the estate?”

  “We think so.”

  She sighed. “You said she was a stripper.”

  “Kelly Jo and Craig dated the summer you two were broken up.”

  “Okay.” She felt no anger or jealousy.

  “Did Craig own a gun?”

  “His father owned a lot of rifles. Robert loved to hunt. So did my father. Dad and Mr. Thornton used to hunt together.”

  “What about handguns?”

  “I don’t know. Mom sold all of Dad’s guns after he died.” She drew in a sigh. “Craig sold all his father’s guns just before we were married.”

  “Do you have a record of the sales?”

  “I wouldn’t know where to look for them. They were all private sales.”

  “I’ll check.”

  To keep her hands busy, she started to make coffee. “I just can’t imagine Craig as a killer.”

  Tension rippled as he collected the printouts. “Who do you think could have killed those women other than him?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  “Have you received any more cards or phone calls?”

  “After you left my shop, someone sent me flowers.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Her reasons felt a little childish now. “I was annoyed and angry with you.”

  He shook his head. “Anything else?”

  “It’s ridiculous.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The other night I got a postcard in the mail. Just a plain advertisement for aftershave—Craig’s old aftershave.”

  “Da
mn it. Adrianna, I don’t like this one damn bit.”

  “I’ve got to admit, each incident has really spooked me.”

  “Never ignore a gut feeling, Adrianna. If you sense danger, then get the hell out of wherever you are and call me.”

  “I know. I know. You’re right.”

  He flatted long, calloused hands on the countertop. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  He pulled a business card from his breast pocket and scribbled a number on it. “This is my cell number.”

  She glanced at the number. Color rose in her cheeks. “I still have it on my phone.”

  “Right.”

  She pulled two mugs from the cabinet and poured coffee into both. She set a mug in front of him, remembering he always took it black.

  Gage stared at the cup, as if lost in thought.

  “I remember that look,” she said.

  “What look?”

  “That look. Your brow creases when you’re upset. You’re worried.”

  “I haven’t changed much.”

  “No.” She stared into the dark depths of her cup. “I have.” She wasn’t sure what had triggered her to say that or to feel like she needed to say something more to him.

  He let the silence hang between them.

  Adrianna traced the rim of her cup, cleared the tightness from her throat, but didn’t raise her gaze, which settled on her wedding band that now felt tight and awkward. “I wasn’t fair to you. I mean, back then. I expected a white knight to wipe away my confusion about my life and make me happy. I can see now that saving me was my job, not yours.”

  The silence felt heavy and uncomfortable. After a long tense moment, she lifted her gaze.

  Gage’s gaze pinned directly on her. Hot and intense, his expression was neutral and only the tightness in his jaw hinted at a reaction. A couple of feet separated them but it might as well have been a million miles.

  There’d been a time when she’d have settled into his arms and he’d have held her close. The world would have felt right.

  As if sensing her thoughts, he straightened his shoulders. “I’m starting to wonder if all this is about Craig.”

  The case. Work. He had retreated to safe territory. Maybe it was for the best. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe those women weren’t killed to protect Craig. Maybe the killer was protecting you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Someone who didn’t want your reunion ruined by a pregnant stripper. Someone who didn’t want your wedding canceled by another of Craig’s mistresses.”

  “My father was dead. And my mother doesn’t have it in her to do something like this.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “I’d like to talk to your mother. No one knows you better than her.”

  “Talking to Mom isn’t such a great idea. She’s often confused and, frankly, can be difficult.”

  “Difficult never bothered me. I want to talk to her.”

  She sighed, relented. “You can try. But I should be there with you when you do. She’s been fragile.”

  A half smile tugged his lips reminding her of the man that she’d loved four years ago. “I can be subtle if I try.”

  She arched a brow. “Like a Mack truck.”

  “I’ll keep it in low gear.” Gage cleared his throat, “I’ll meet you in the morning at your mother’s house. Say nine?”

  “You really don’t think she can be of much help, do you?”

  “Your mother hid the death of a child for over twenty-seven years. There’s no telling what else she’s capable of doing.”

  Gage arrived at Craig’s former nursing home just after ten p.m. He’d learned that Dr. Gregory, Craig’s attending physician, pulled the three-to-eleven shift this week and could be found in his office.

  He moved down the hallway carpeted in a plush blue and painted a soft antique white. Soothing landscapes hung on the walls. Side tables sported decorative bowls with brass fruit. The place could have passed for a swank hotel if not for the beep, beep of unseen machines and the antiseptic smell.

  As much as Gage had not liked Thornton, he couldn’t help pity the bastard. This was one hell of a lonely place to die.

  Gage found the last door on the right as the receptionist had directed minutes ago and knocked. The brass nameplate read DR. HENRY GREGORY.

  Gage knocked and entered.

  A willowy man with gray hair and heavily rimmed glasses glanced up from a chart. “Detective Hudson?”

  Gage pulled out his badge and showed it to the man. “Yes. Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Certainly. Have a seat.”

  Gage sat in one of the overstuffed club chairs in front of the desk. Diplomas and citations peppered the wall behind the doctor and on a credenza were dozens of family pictures. “As I said on the phone, I wanted to ask you about a patient of yours. Craig Thornton.”

  Dr. Gregory folded his long hands in front of him. “That was a tragic case. Always tough when you see someone young struck down.”

  “Can you tell me about his case?”

  The doctor leaned back in his chair. “Irreversible head trauma. He never would have woken up.”

  “I understand he could have lived for years.”

  “That’s what we thought.”

  “Was his death unexpected, then?”

  Dr. Gregory shook his head. “The human body isn’t meant to lie in a coma. After prolonged inactivity over time, it starts to break down. Craig Thornton had a strong constitution and he surprised all his doctors every step of the way. But his death wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.”

  “How so?”

  “The accident alone would have killed most people.”

  “Were you shocked when he died?”

  “Yes. I’d examined him myself that day. His heart sounded strong. Blood pressure was good. And there were no infections. All was fine. Then just after ten that night the nurse called and said he’d coded. There was a DNR on his folder—Do Not Resuscitate—so she didn’t try and save him.”

  “What do you think caused the death?”

  He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I suppose his heart just gave out.”

  “You didn’t do an autopsy?”

  “No.”

  “His wife didn’t request one?”

  “She mentioned it but I advised her to let it all go.”

  For over two years Adrianna came to this place. He wasn’t sure if he could claim that kind of strength. “Mr. Thornton have any visitors that last day?”

  Dr. Gregory leaned forward and glanced at the papers on his desk. “When you called earlier, I had the office manager pull the logs for December second. Turns out he had three visitors that day.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Fred Minor. Janet Guthrie. Margaret Barrington.”

  Gage released the breath he’d been holding. Deep in his heart he’d feared Adrianna hadn’t been in Alexandria and had come to the nursing home. “Does the log say how long they stayed?”

  “Yes. Mr. Minor clocked in at twelve that day and was out by twelve twenty.”

  “Minor come often?”

  “Very regularly. Fact, I spoke to him many times. He said he was a friend of the family.”

  “And Guthrie? She was here around four and left around four ten. She rarely came.”

  “That so?”

  “She said this place gave her the creeps. We get that a lot. No one likes to face their mortality, and this place is full of once-healthy people gravely injured or ill.”

  Gage shifted in his chair. Languishing in a place like this was worse than death. Buried alive. “What time was Mrs. Margaret Barrington here?”

  “About five. She also didn’t stay long.”

  “And Thornton died around ten that evening?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did Mrs. Barrington also visit often?”

  “As a matter of fact, she didn’t. She came some in the beginning with her daughter, but it
seemed too upsetting for her.”

  Had someone hurried Thornton’s death along? All three visitors had a reason. “No one visited around ten?”

  “Not according to the log.”

  “Can I see his room?”

  “Sure. It’s vacant right now, as a matter of fact.”

  Gage followed the doctor down a carpeted hallway to room number 102. It was first floor and next to the emergency exit. “That door locked all the time?”

  “An alarm sounds if it’s opened.” Dr. Gregory slid his hand into the pocket of his white coat. “Why are you asking these questions now?”

  Gage shook his head, not sure himself. “Just checking a couple of loose ends regarding another case.” He pushed open the door to the room and turned on the lights. The bed was neatly made and beside it were two nightstands, shaded lamps, and a chair with a small desk in the far right corner. Behind the bed, heavy-duty electrical outlets waited for the next life support machine’s cables. The room had four large windows. “All the rooms have windows like this?”

  “No. It’s a corner room. So there’s an extra window. Ms. Barrington wanted a sunny room.”

  “She pay her bills on time?”

  He hesitated as if he were revealing something he shouldn’t. “For the most part. We’re the best in the area and we’re expensive. She was struggling those last couple of months.”

  “How often did Thornton’s wife visit?” Gage said.

  “She was here four or five times a week. Always stayed for at least an hour. She often read to Craig.”

  “A devoted spouse.”

  “It’s a hard thing to stick by someone for the long haul. In the emergency room family is pumped up with adrenaline and everyone is committed to doing what it takes to help the patient. Then when the emergency passes and the realization of extended long-term care sinks in, many fade. She didn’t. She’s one of the strongest people I know.”

  “Thanks.”

  Gage left the place, not taking a real deep breath until he stood in the parking lot outside awash in moonlight. He took a moment to enjoy the cool night air and being away from that building before he climbed into his car.

  Margaret Barrington had visited Craig. She’d made a scene at his funeral. She’d hidden the death of a child.

  Gage remembered the one time he’d met Margaret Barrington. He’d been dating Adrianna for about a month and they’d been having lunch. Margaret Barrington had happened upon them. Adrianna had been shocked by the unexpected appearance, risen quickly, her face flushed. Gage realized then that Adrianna hadn’t told her mother about their relationship. He’d shrugged off the disappointment and watched as the woman had wrapped her daughter in a warm embrace. When Margaret had turned to him, she’d made no effort to hide her disapproval. Her comments to him had been curt, cutting, and cold.