Share No Secrets

by Carlene Thompson

  Julianna Brent would never again sing along with her favorite song, “Sweet Dreams.”

  2

  Brandon started toward Julianna, edging toward a woman he knew well, who always petted him and lovingly rubbed his ears. But Skye grabbed the dog’s collar and held him back. “No, Brandon,” she said tonelessly. “We mustn’t disturb her.” She looked up at her mother with huge eyes. “It’s Julianna, isn’t it?”

  Adrienne nodded slowly. “I think …” She swallowed. “I’m afraid it is.”

  “Oh God, Mom. How? Why?” Skye took a deep breath. “You probably should check to see if she’s really dead.”

  “Honey, she must be,” Adrienne said softly. To her own ears her voice sounded as if it were coming from far away. “She’s not moving and she’s so pale …”

  “But you can get real pale from blood loss and shock. I learned that in my first-aid class. She might just be hurt.” Skye made a hesitant move toward the bed. “If you don’t want to touch her, I’ll check and see if her heart’s still beating.”

  “No,” Adrienne said quickly. “I’ll do it. You stay back and hold on to Brandon.”

  Adrienne moved in a state of blurry shock to the right side of the bed, the toe of her shoe banging against a heavy glass bottle. A wine bottle. Shards of cream-colored ceramic littered the floor. She realized it was the base of a lamp when she saw a battered shade and an electric cord on the floor.

  Adrienne looked down at Julianna’s white face, marred only by a small cut and a faint bruise on her forehead. She started to touch Julianna’s neck to feel for a pulse. When she gently moved aside the hair, though, she saw a large, ragged hole just beneath her left ear. Blood saturated the back of Julianna’s auburn hair and soaked the pillow, already turning to a dull red. Adrienne shuddered and paused. She fought the hot water rolling into her mouth and concentrated.

  The hundreds of murder mysteries she’d read in her life, along with having dated the local county sheriff for over a year, had taught her she shouldn’t disturb the crime scene in any way, shouldn’t touch Julianna more than she had already. But she needed to know for certain if Julianna was dead, whether or not to tell the people manning the 911 emergency number to rush an ambulance to a dying woman and to instruct her about what to do for her friend until they arrived.

  She pulled back the bedspread, light cotton blanket, and satín sheet Julianna lay naked to the waist beneath the bedding. Adrienne lifted Julianna’s left arm. It was cooler than her own but felt soft, indicating the muscles beneath were still pliable. Julianna was not yet in rigor mortis. But when Adrienne pressed her fingers to the woman’s slender wrist, she felt nothing. She shifted her fingers again and again, searching for, praying for, a beat, even a flutter of a pulse. Nothing.

  “Mom?”

  “She’s dead,” Adrienne said flatly. “I’m almost certain she’s dead.”

  ‘Oh no,” the girl quavered. “How?”

  “There’s a hole in her neck. She’s been stabbed with something. There’s lots of blood. You can’t see it from where you’re standing.”

  Adrienne took a step away from the bed, still looking down at her friend. Then the shock that had so far kept her calm surged from her body. Her hands turned icy as the floor seemed to shift beneath her. Her legs felt weak.

  “Oh God—” Adrienne choked, then began to shake violently. In an instant, Skye stood next to her, enfolding her in her sweater-clad arms, holding her up. At five feet five, Adrienne was the exact height of her daughter, but at the moment, she felt small and shattered beside Skye’s youth and strength.

  “Mom, I’m so sorry.” Skye’s voice trembled. “She’s been your friend forever.”

  “Since we were six. She was so beautiful. And fun. Even then.”

  “I know.” Skye patted her back, going on mechanically. “I thought she was terrific. Everybody did.”

  Adrienne clung to her daughter, eyes tightly shut. Then she opened them and looked around in confusion. “What was Julianna doing here? The hotel’s empty. Why would she be sleeping in this place?”

  Skye shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought it was fun, or she wanted to spend the night here because the place is going to be torn down. You know how crazy she could act sometimes. Daredevil crazy. Fun crazy.”

  “No, that’s not what happened. She wasn’t alone,” Adrienne stated with abrupt certainty. “She didn’t come here to spend the night alone. She could be reckless but she wasn’t a fool. She would have known a deserted hotel could be a magnet for vandals.”

  Adrienne’s gaze shot frantically around the room. She noted again the wine bottle and the pale yellow wax poured into the pretty faceted glass jars Julianna’s mother used for her candle-making business.

  “Julianna wouldn’t have lain here alone surrounded by candles her mother made and drunk champagne until she passed out for the rest of the night,” Adrienne went on, more to herself than Skye. “She would have known someone could break in and hurt her.”

  “Maybe she felt safe because of the caretaker.”

  “Claude Duncan?” Adrienne emitted a dry little laugh. “Claude’s father was the manager of the Belle and ran this place with military precision for thirty years. Claude is next to useless. Ellen Kirkwood only kept on Claude as caretaker after Mr. Duncan died because, by then, she’d closed the hotel and Claude couldn’t do much harm. But Julianna knew Claude and wouldn’t count on him for protection. He’s usually dead drunk by ten o’clock.”

  “Well, then …” Skye looked at her blankly and lifted her shoulders in bafflement.

  “Maybe she was here with a man,” Adrienne said with certainty. “A lover.”

  Skye’s eyes widened. “A lover?”

  “The candles. The wine. And she’s naked but wearing some mascara. And expensive perfume. L’ Heure Bleue by Guerlain.”

  “But that’s weird, Mom. If she had a lover, why would they need to come here? She lives alone.”

  “She lives in an apartment building where other people could see a man coming and going.”

  “So?” Skye paused. “Oh, she was with someone she didn’t want anyone to know about.” She frowned. “But if Julianna was here with a man, then he could have—”

  “Killed her.”

  Skye drew a sharp breath before lowering her gaze to the floor. Adrienne suddenly realized the girl had never looked directly at the body after that first staggering glance. And her own face was almost as pale as Julianna’s was. Much of the time, Skye acted and sounded like a young woman. But she’s only a girl of fourteen, Adrienne thought, furious with herself for even momentarily forgetting. And I’m not taking care of my child in this crisis, she ranted on inwardly. Instead, I’m leaning on her.

  She put her arm around Skye’s shoulders and said in what she hoped was a confidence-inspiring voice, “Come on. We’re getting out of here, going to the car, and calling the police. They’ll know what to do.”

  “Should we just leave her?” Tears welled in Skye’s eyes. “I mean, it just seems like she shouldn’t be all alone and… I don’t know… defenseless.”

  “Honey, there’s nothing we can do for her.” And no one can hurt her any more, Adrienne thought, but didn’t say so. The pain of those words would be too great. With her thumb, she gently wiped a tear from Skye’s cheek. “Put on Brandon’s leash.”

  Skye immediately attached the leash to a docile Brandon’s collar. “Mom, he was acting so strange. He led us right to her. Do you think he sensed that she was up here?”

  “No. Not on the second floor. Something else set him off.” Whoever I saw in the woods, Adrienne thought with a jolt Whoever gave me that creepy feeling they were slinking around watching. For once her premonition of danger had been right and she felt as if ice water were trickling down her back. She grabbed Skye’s hand. “Hurry. We’re not staying in this room a moment longer than we have to.”

  Adrienne’s agitation was contagious. Skye’s tears vanished, she gripped Brandon�
�s leash, and they made a beeline for the open hotel room door. Then Brandon balked. He sat down and growled. “Oh God, now what?” Adrienne gasped, almost breathless with nerves.

  Skye leaned forward just enough to peek through the open door into the hall. Her body tensed. She drew back, shut the door quietly, and looked at her mother. Her lips had turned the same porcelain white as her face and she seemed to be all huge, terrified eyes. “Someone’s out there.” Adrienne stared at her. “Someone’s coming down the hall to this room carrying something like an ax.”

  “An ax?” Adrienne gaped, quelling a wild urge to laugh. “Skye, an ax?”

  “I saw it! At least it was some kind of weapon that looked like an ax.” Skye was not prone to exaggeration and she suddenly sounded like a terrified little girl. “Mommy, what should we do?”

  Adrienne went blank. She’d known fear before, but it had never been imminent. The threat of injury or death had never borne down on her with the immediacy of this moment. She was totally unprepared and completely panicked.

  Brandon looked up at Adrienne with his clear, amber gaze and growled softly again, almost as if he were saying, “Snap out of it!” She drew a deep breath. Then, mercifully, her emotions seemed to shut down and a strange calm came over her. “Lock the door,” she said evenly. “We’ll push this dresser in front of it. Then we have to get out of the room.”

  “Get out? How?”

  “Jump from the porch.”

  “Jump?” Skye’s voice cracked. “We’re on the second floor!”

  “We’ll make it.”

  “What about Brandon?”

  “There’s just dirt and grass beneath us, not concrete. He’ll make it, too.”

  “Mom, he can’t. He’ll get hurt!”

  Adrienne looked fiercely at her daughter. “Skye, Julianna was murdered. Don’t you understand? She’s still warm. Her killer might not have left. That could be him corning down the hall. Now help me push the dresser in front of the door to slow him down and then we’re going to jump, dammit, Brandon or no Brandon!”

  The girl looked cowed but immediately turned to the long, mahogany dresser behind her. Adrienne went to the other end and they pushed it hard until they’d scooted it directly in front of the door. Before Adrienne had time to draw a deep breath, the doorknob, just visible above the dresser, turned violently.

  She and Skye stared at it, frozen. Brandon let out another low, menacing growl before the knob turned again, then rattled as the person on the other side shook it. “Who’s in there?” a ravaged voice demanded. “Open the goddamn door or I’ll break it down, I swear!”

  “Now we jump,” Adrienne said, heading for the French doors that opened onto the porch.

  Skye hung back. “Mom, I’m afraid.”

  Something hit the door hard. Perhaps a man’s shoulder. The door shuddered. “Next time it’s comin’ down,” he shouted savagely.

  “Oh God,” Skye whispered.

  Adrienne took her hand and pulled her toward the porch. “Don’t think. Just jump. It’s our only chance.”

  Brandon lagged behind, clearly confused, growling and barking. The door shuddered in its frame again and Adrienne waited to hear wood splintering as the madman outside attacked the door. The scene was absolutely bizarre, but actually happening. She’d never been more frightened in her life.

  Still holding Skye’s hand, Adrienne hoisted herself up onto the porch railing and slung her left leg over the side. “Come on, honey,” she urged, pulling on Skye. “It’s not that far down.”

  Skye climbed up but her body was so rigid, Adrienne feared the fall would have an even more serious impact than it would if she were relaxed. But who could be relaxed in this situation?

  “Don’t look down, sweetie,” Adrienne told her. “Just let yourself go.”

  “Mom, I c-can’t,” Skye quavered. “I’ve always been afraid of heights. I just can’t.”

  Brandon jumped up and placed his front paws on the railing. “Look, Brandon’s not afraid.” Another hard shudder on the door. It sounded as if the lock were giving way and it had come open enough to bang against the dresser. “Skye, you must. It’s our only chance.”

  “No.” She violently shook her head. “No, no, no—”

  More shouting. Then a second voice. Adrienne pulled at a resisting Skye. The pounding on the door stopped. Adrienne heard something like arguing. Then a familiar voice. “Adrienne? Is that you in there?” Adrienne went still, sitting half on, half off the railing, clutching her terrified daughter’s sweating hand. “Adrienne, open the door! It’s Lucas!”

  TWO

  1

  Adrienne couldn’t let herself believe she’d actually heard the voice of Lucas Flynn, the county sheriff and the man she’d been seeing for a year. Then he called to her again. Brandon barked joyfully and ran to the door while Adrienne nearly tumbled off the rail back onto the porch in her surprise and relief.

  Skye still clutched her hand. “It’s a trick!”

  “I know Lucas’s voice, Skye. So does Brandon. He’s at the door with his tail wagging.”

  Skye looked at her dog, bouncing in front of the dresser that blocked the door on which Lucas still banged. “Adrienne! I saw your car. I know you’re in there!”

  “Yes, I’m here. And Skye,” Adrienne called breathlessly as she crossed the porch. “Someone’s out there with an ax.”

  “It’s me, Miz Adrienne,” Claude Duncan, the caretaker, yelled almost pleasantly in a razor voice. “Didn’t know you was inside. Thought it was the murderer. Miz Julianna’s in there dead, you know. Found her less than a half hour ago.”

  Adrienne and a slightly less rigid Skye began pushing the dresser aside. “Oh God, Claude, why didn’t you say it was you?”

  “Didn’t want the murderer to know who I was.

  ” This made sense only to Claude. After all, he’d just been trying to break into the room and then the jig would have been up. But such was the way Claude’s mind worked.

  Adrienne and Skye moved the dresser, opened the door, and finally got a good look at Claude Duncan. He stood wavering, wearing the hood of his windbreaker tied so tightly around his face only his bloodshot eyes and three-day growth of beard showed. He reeked of bourbon. Even at the best of times, Claude was no genius. Now he was clearly badly hung-over. And he did hold an ax. Skye had been right about their “assailant’s” weapon.

  But Adrienne looked at him only a moment. Then her gaze flew to Lucas. A heavily muscled man of six feet two with earnest dark gray eyes and what some people called a lantern jaw, he was an imposing figure in jeans and a T-shirt. In uniform with a gun at his side, he was downright intimidating. His broad forehead was creased with worry, his rough sandy blond hair rumpled as if he’d run his hand through it, as Adrienne had seen him do a hundred times when he was concerned or distressed. He pulled her into his arms.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, now that you’re here. Skye and I were so scared.”

  He squeezed her, then turned to Skye and hugged her, too. “You’re white as a ghost, princess.” Then he looked at the bed, his expression appalled. “Good God. It’s Julianna Brent”

  “I told you,” Claude announced hotly. “I told you she’d done been murdered!”

  “I thought we were going to get killed, too,” Skye said. “Mom and I were going to jump off the porch to escape Claude and his ax.”

  Lucas whirled furiously on Claude, who looked startled and backed up a step, blinking rapidly. “What are you doing with that damned thing, anyway?” Lucas shouted.

  “Protectin’ myself!” Claude blustered. “I don’t have a gun like you cops!”

  “You don’t need a gun!”

  “No, sir, I surely don’t,” Claude returned sarcastically. “Just ‘cause we got us a killer roamin’ around don’t mean an innocent guy like me needs somethin’ for protection. What was I supposed to do if the killer was in here waitin’ for me when I came back? Kick him?”

  “That’s
the point. You shouldn’t have come back to this room alone,” Lucas said in loud frustration. “Are you nuts? You should’ve waited for me.”

  Claude stuck out his chest. He was only twenty-nine, but he looked much older because of his sagging eyelids and puffy features. His complexion had turned a sickly yellow and glistened with perspiration. “I’m caretaker here. This place is my responsibility.”

  “Well, no one expects you to give up your life for it, which you could have done.” Lucas’s tone had softened. After all, anyone acquainted with Claude knew that reasoning with him was a lost cause. He hadn’t been the smartest person in town even before the drinking had taken its toll. “Think of Mrs. Kirkwood, Claude. She would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

  “She is a kind lady,” Claude said earnestly, looking half sick at the thought of his own murder and half pleased at Ellen Kirkwood’s resulting grief if such an appalling thing should happen. Adrienne could tell he’d imbibed even more than usual, probably at the thought that the Belle would soon be a memory—as would his job, such as it was.

  She looked at Lucas. “How did you know we were here?”

  “You must have seen the big car wreck when you came up to the Belle. I was there. The commotion woke up Claude—”

  “Like to scared me to death,” Claude broke in excitedly. “I was outta my cottage lickety-split. Then I saw a side door open on the Belle. I came in to see what was goin’ on. I found—” He nodded at the bed where Julianna lay. “Couldn’t believe it! But I didn’t do nothin’ to her. I mean, I didn’t move her or nothin'. I just ran right down to where the wreck was. Knew there’d be cops. I started yellin'. They told me to go away. Then Sheriff Flynn came. I told him what was up here. Then I raced right back up to guard the scene. Like on TV. I thought you were the killer come back, Miz Adrienne. To dispose of the body, you know. I didn’t mean to scare you.”