Dying Scream (12 page)

Now, it brought no peace. Only sadness and loss.

Adrianna took a step back, her throat burning with unshed tears. What were the chances of receiving this?

A few days ago, she’d not have thought twice about it but after the anniversary card, and the unlocked front door, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was another anonymous cruelty.

That had to be the explanation. She glanced at the kitchen counter and searched for a business card that signaled a visit from her realtor. It was there. By the stove.

She grabbed the kitchen phone and dialed. Voicemail picked up immediately. “Catherine, this is Adrianna. Just checking to see if you showed the house today? You left the house unlocked. Please be more careful. Thanks.”

She moved the back door that led to a small patio and opened it. Cool night air swirled inside. The breeze carried the scent of the aftershave from the card and soon the fragrance had vanished as if it had never been there.

Adrianna tossed the card in the trash can outside and rubbed her hand over the goose bumps on her arm. Nervous laughter bubbled in her chest. “It’s a freaking perfume advertisement. Get a grip.”

The day’s nightmarish events had clearly taken its toll.

As she shrugged off her coat, the cell phone in her purse rang. The sound made her jump. “Idiot.” She laughed as she dug it out of her purse.

Expecting to see her realtor’s number, she was disappointed to see her mother’s number. Squaring her shoulders, she flipped open the phone. “Hello.”

“Adrianna.” There was no missing the trademark panic in her mother’s voice. Ever since Adrianna could remember, there was always some crisis to be managed.

She pressed her fingers to her forehead, too tired to rehash last night. “Hey, Mom.”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“That’s okay.” She moved to the fridge and pulled out a half-full bottle of Chardonnay.

“I’ve been so worried about you. I’m sorry we fought yesterday morning.”

“Me, too, Mom, Me too.”

“You went to the Thornton house today?” Tension etched each of Margaret’s words.

“Yes. And it all went fine.” No good would come from telling her mother about today’s discovery at the Thornton place. Last night’s trip to the ER affirmed that her mother didn’t handle conflict well.

“You would tell me if things weren’t good.” Worry dripped from each word.

Despite all their problems, her mother did know when she hedged the truth. If not blood, a lifetime of memories linked them forever. “Yes, of course,” she lied. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

She pulled a glass from the cabinet, uncorked the bottle, and poured herself a glass.

“When are you coming to see me again, Adrianna?”

“Soon, Mom, soon.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, Mom. Soon. There’s a lot to wrap up with the land sale and I’ve got a lot of work at the shop. I’m just swamped right now.”

“I miss working at the shop. We had such fun working together.” She added an inflection to the end of the sentence, a clear cue she needed reinforcement.

“I know.” Adrianna had suggested they open the store together after her father had died four years ago, fearing her mother would slip into another deep depression. Margaret was an artist at heart and the interior design shop appealed. No denying the woman had an excellent eye for color and detail.

Initially, both had worked hard to launch the business and the shop had soared, but Margaret had started to fade after about eight months. The day-to-day pressures of work had gotten the better of her and she’d retreated for a time. During Margaret’s hiatus, the brunt of the business had fallen on Adrianna’s shoulders, and that coupled with Craig’s accident had meant long days. Her mother had managed to get herself together after about a year and returned to work for a while, but in January the adoption mess had been exposed and Margaret had suffered a major setback.

If Barrington Designs was going to survive it would have to be without Margaret. In February, Adrianna had hired help.

“I want to come back to work.” Her mother’s voice shook with emotion.

Adrianna gripped the phone. Now wasn’t the time to have this conversation. “What does your doctor say?”

“He said maybe next month.”

“Then let’s give it more time.” She took a sip of wine, savoring the cool flavor in her mouth.

“But I can come back?”

“It depends. I’ve told you I might not keep the store.”

“That’s right. But I was helpful with your designs. I’m good with colors.”

“You are. And if you can help, that would be great.”

“Thank you.” Margaret paused. “Adrianna, I love you.”

The words cut into Adrianna.
Then why did you lie to me all those years?
She closed her eyes. As angry as she was at Margaret, she couldn’t be cruel by denying her a response. “I love you, too, Mom.”

“I pulled out your wedding album today. You were so beautiful and Craig was so handsome.”

“What made you look at the album?”

“You haven’t forgotten your anniversary, have you? It’s today.”

“No, I didn’t forget.” A thought occurred to her and before she thought she said, “You didn’t send me an anniversary card, did you?”

“No. Did you get a card?”

“I think it was just a mistake. Nothing to worry about.”
Love always, Craig.
It had been a cruel joke.

“You’re sure?”

She regretted opening this can of worms. “Yes. Really. Hey, I’ve got to go. I’ve an early wake-up call.”

“Of course. You will come and see me soon?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Adrianna hung up. The second and third sips of wine eased through her body, warming her. Twelve twenty-one. It was after midnight.

It was September twenty-seventh.

Her anniversary had passed.

Adrianna pressed the cold glass to her temple.

She’d survived another painful milestone. “Thank God.”

Craig sat in his car across the street from Hudson’s house eating one of the cookies he’d snagged from Adrianna’s kitchen. In the last few weeks, he’d taken to entering her house when she wasn’t there because he loved touching her things. This time, he’d left the card in her mailbox and intentionally left the front door unlocked. He wanted her to have a hint of his presence. “Soon, my love.”

To think, just three years ago before the accident, he’d not have had the stones to do half the things he was doing today. In the pre-accident days he was so weak, so ineffective. So worried about what people thought of him. So spineless.

But no more. The accident had obliterated the wimp he had been and transformed him into a better, stronger
man
. Now there was only the newer, stronger Craig who took charge of situations. He no longer wrung his hands and worried about rules or the law. He did what needed to be done. He took charge.

Like now.

Bright moonlight filtered through the trees as Craig watched Hudson’s house. It was bungalow style with a stone façade, thick porch supports, and a low-pitched roof. The flowerbeds were empty but the lawn neatly trimmed. The lights in the downstairs living room were on and Hudson’s car parked in the driveway.

Night air, damp with humidity made the car’s interior hot. God, but he couldn’t wait for winter and the cold, dry weather to arrive.

Craig watched as Gage moved through the rooms on the first floor of his house. The cop had taken off his coat jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He paced, as if waiting for someone.

Craig curled calloused fingers into a fist. Adrianna had never told anyone about her affair with Hudson, but he had known. One Sunday afternoon, he’d accidentally seen Adrianna walking hand in hand with Hudson. Rage had rolled over him like a tidal wave even as sadness banded his chest like a vise.

He hadn’t wanted to watch. But he had.

He had hated the idea of them together. And he knew nothing he could have said to her would have changed her mind about Hudson. So he’d gone to Margaret Barrington and told her about his chance sighting. And she’d done as he’d expected. She’d convinced Adrianna to return to the life she was intended to lead.

Now Adrianna was getting her life back on track and he was preparing to show her how he’d changed. This was supposed to be their time. He wanted to tell Adrianna about the women in the graves. How he’d killed them all for her. Now was time for all the secrets to be revealed to Adrianna and the world.

But Hudson had returned and threatened to ruin it all.

Bastard.

Craig glanced down at the gold signet ring on his left pinky. The tarnished gold band squeezed his finger, begging to be resized. Still, he loved the ring and all that it symbolized. He traced his thumb over the letter
T
etched into the top.

A VW bug pulled into Hudson’s driveway and rumbled to a stop. A young woman got out. Craig leaned closer, narrowed his gaze so that he could see better. The woman was Hudson’s sister. Jessie. A college student.

The girl hurried to the front door with a basket of dirty laundry. As she fished a key from her pocket, Hudson moved to the door and opened it. He took the basket from her and said something that made her laugh.

Jessie was a pretty girl. Her hair was too dark for his tastes but hair was easy to change. What he liked about her was her spirit. She was a fighter. A bolt of restless energy surged through Craig and his body hardened.

He thought about touching Jessie’s skin and of using his new camera and putting her in his next movie.

Despite the urge, he kept his desires at bay. It was enough now to know that he could take Jessie whenever he wanted.

And as long as Hudson left his Adrianna alone, he’d leave Jessie alone.

With the Thornton land nearly sold and the bodies gone, there was nothing now that anchored him to the past. There was only the future.

In his future he saw Adrianna.

Sweet, sweet Adrianna.

When they finally reunited, the moment would be so perfect.

“Soon, Adrianna, soon. One more actress to take my stage and then it will be your turn.”

Chapter Nine

Wednesday, September 27, 9:00 a.m.

When Gage arrived at the state medical examiner’s office, his eyes itched with fatigue. His sister Jessie had been running late last night and hadn’t shown up until after midnight. Extra hours at the hotel, she’d explained. “Can’t say no to the hours, bro. Money is too good.”

He didn’t like her working so hard. It was his job to put her through school, his job to worry. But Jessie had come wired like him and no amount of coaxing or prodding had convinced her to give up her job in the Madison Hotel’s catering department.

Pride welled.

Gage liked seeing her, if only for ten minutes. He was far too protective, worried more than he should, but he did his best not to let his fears show. And after the grave excavation yesterday, that had been a feat unto itself.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he moved down the tiled hallway. The place had a sick sweet smell that the antiseptic didn’t quite eradicate.

After he’d touched base with Jessie, he’d pulled out his files and notes on the Rhonda Minor case. He’d paid particular attention to the notes he’d taken on his interview with Thornton. In the bottom right margin of the notes he’d written the word
Slick
and had circled it several times.

He pushed through the metal doors of the autopsy room. Tiled floor to ceiling, the room had several large metal sinks with spray faucets on one wall and on the other metal counters filled with a variety of instruments.

A body, draped in a white sheet, lay on the medical examiner’s stainless steel table positioned in the center of the room over a floor drain. Behind the table stood Dr. Alex Butler. Across from him was a heavyset young woman who wore her sandy blond hair in a ponytail. Her name was Kate, Gage remembered. She was another one of Dr. Butler’s assistants. Apparently, it took several assistants to keep up with his pace.

Dr. Butler glanced up over wire-rimmed glasses as the door whooshed closed behind Gage. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Gage slid his hand into his pocket, annoyed that he’d have to linger in this room. “Sure.”

Dr. Butler, with a gloved hand, reached into the water and pulled out what looked like a second glove. But it wasn’t a glove. It was skin from a body.

Gage’s stomach rolled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve softened the skin from a dead man’s hand in fabric softener. With luck, I’ll be able to slip it on my fingers and get a print.”

Gage watched as Dr. Butler maneuvered his own hand into a dead man’s skin as if it were a glove. He could see that Kate had set out an inkpad and a fingerprint card. She came around the table and gently guided Dr. Butler’s hand to the inkpad and carefully rolled a print in the preprinted box. She repeated this with each finger.

“Prints any good?” Gage said, glad now he’d only had coffee for breakfast.

“Looks like it might work.” Dr. Butler glanced at Kate as he pulled the second skin off his hand and dropped it in a stainless steel bowl. “Kate, can you get those sent off for me?”

“Will do, Doc.”

Dr. Butler washed his hands in a large galvanized sink. “Well, you were right.”

“How’s that?” Hiding the snap of irritation, Gage moved across the tile floor, stopping inches short of the autopsy table.

“Vega dropped off Rhonda Minor’s dental records about an hour ago. The bridgework and the fillings perfectly in my Jane Doe match Rhonda Minor’s.”

Gage didn’t feel any sense of triumph, only a grim sense of relief. Having a name for the victim put him one step closer to nailing Thornton. “All right.”

“I’m headed out to the Thornton estate in about an hour. Should start work on the second grave by noon.”

“Good.”

The doors opened with a jerk and Gage turned to see Vega. The detective couldn’t have gotten more than a couple of hours’ sleep but the guy looked bright-eyed and ready to go. He had a to-go tray holding three coffees in his hand. “Got that ID?”