Dying Scream (15 page)

Every muscle in her body screamed for silence and rest and still she found herself turning off Cary Street to the side road where her mother lived.

The homes were old Richmond. Brick, compact manicured lawns, and oak trees. She turned into the crushed stone of her mother’s driveway. Her keys jangling, she felt her stomach knot as she got out of the car and moved to the front door. When she’d been a kid, she’d walk in the front door and shout to Estelle, the housekeeper, who had been a fixture in Adrianna’s life forever. Estelle was usually the first to greet her. Afternoons for her mother were generally filled with charity meetings and she didn’t arrive home until five or six. And her father was always at the office. She wanted to believe her parents loved her in their way, and they were just busy people who were naturally reserved. Adrianna had been anything but reserved like her folks. Loud, full of energy, she could exhaust her mother and father in minutes.

Now, as Adrianna stood on the front stoop, the sunlight fading in the distance, she couldn’t bring herself to push through the front door and waltz in as she had a million times before. This didn’t feel like home anymore.

Since she’d learned of her adoption, everything had just felt wrong. She felt like a visitor here. This might have been her home as a kid but it wasn’t anymore. She rang the bell.

Seconds later she heard the thud of footsteps. The quick purposeful sounds signaled that Estelle was answering the door. Relieved, she stood a little straighter.

The door snapped open, and Estelle frowned as if expecting a salesman or trouble. As Estelle had always said, friends and family came to the kitchen door. Everyone else was a stranger.

Estelle wore her gray-streaked black hair in a tight bun. The style, which she’d worn for as long as Adrianna could remember, accented a round face free of wrinkles.

The older woman’s anger quickly switched from annoyance to confusion to kindness. “Why on earth are you ringing the front bell, child? I thought it was one of those kids who sells magazines and candy.”

Adrianna leaned into Estelle’s embrace. “How are you?”

“I’m just as right as rain. Get in here before you get a chill and get sick.”

Estelle always associated chilly weather with illness. As a kid, Adrianna rarely got out of the house without a sweater. “What’s brought you here tonight?”

“I came to see Mom. She called.” A lifetime of worrying about her mom wasn’t so easily dismissed.

Estelle met her gaze. “You know she’d not have gone to the emergency room the other night if it hadn’t been my night off. She always tries that foolishness when I’m gone.”

“I know. I know. How’s she doing?”

“Fine. What set her off the other night?”

“I asked about the adoption again.”

Estelle patted Adrianna’s arm. “I didn’t always like or agree with what your folks did, but I know they did love you. They wouldn’t ever have wanted to disappoint you.”

“Sure.” But they had. Deeply.

“If I’d known about that adoption, I’d have found a way to tell you.”

“I know. I know.” She struggled to keep her voice even.

“Well your mom is doing better,” Estelle said quietly. “More consistent with her medicine. No more hiding it in her chair when I’m not looking.” Margaret Barrington’s delicate hold on sanity could easily be tipped out of balance by stress.

“Is she still awake?”

Relief softened Estelle’s face. “Sure is. Go on into her room and see her.”

Adrianna’s stomach knotted. “Thanks.”

“Can I make you a sandwich?”

“I’m good.”

“How about some banana bread? Made a batch today.”

“I’m good.”

“A cookie? I got cookies.”

Adrianna laughed. “Still good.”

Estelle shook her head. “You’re too skinny.”

Adrianna grinned. “You’ve been saying that for as long as I can remember. I’m eating. If anything, stress makes me eat.”

“Well, you don’t seem to gain weight.” Estelle chuckled. “Which as far as the rest of us are concerned ain’t fair. You must get that skinny from your other parents.”

Adrianna rarely talked about her other parents. Kendall wanted to talk about them and dig up every detail she could, but Adrianna hadn’t been interested. Good or bad, she was linked to the Barringtons by a lifetime of memories. They felt more a part of her than the people who had given her life.

Adrianna climbed the center staircase and made her way down the long hallway. She knocked and opened her mother’s door, knowing that at seven thirty at night she’d be watching
Wheel of Fortune
.

Margaret sat on a couch in a small sitting nook. The light from the television made her face look pale and accentuated the gray roots rimming dull blond hair.

“Mom?”

Margaret Barrington looked up, startled from her show. She grinned. “Adrianna.” She patted the spot next to her on the couch. “You came to see me.”

Adrianna sat down. So much anger and confusion had burned through her these last few months. “How are you doing?”

Margaret made a point to straighten the collar of her flannel nightgown. “Good, dear, good.”

“Estelle said you’re taking your medicine.”

“I want to get well and come back to work with you.”

Adrianna glanced at a painting of Margaret on the wall. She was holding an infant, smiling so lovingly down at her. Adrianna had always loved the picture. Now as she stared at it she didn’t know if that was her in her mother’s arms or not.

A sudden urgent need to know more sliced through her. “I always liked that picture.”

Margaret followed her line of sight. “I did, too. It was a chore getting that done, but well worth it.”

“Why was it a chore?”

“Oh, you cried and cried. You had terrible colic when you were that age. I would sing to you and sometimes you’d stop crying. That day you smiled and it felt like a miracle.”

“I didn’t know I had colic.”

“Yes. Terrible case of it. I was always on the phone with the doctor. I didn’t think I’d ever sleep again.”

“How old was I in that picture?”

Margaret frowned. “I don’t remember. One or two months.”

The time span was small. And yet in that month’s time, one baby had died and one had been brought in to replace her.

It wasn’t right that Baby Adrianna rested in an unmarked grave, forgotten. Six months ago, Adrianna had spoken to Dr. Moore, who’d testified to police that the child had died of crib death. He’d told her much the same. But for reasons she couldn’t name, it didn’t ring true.

“How are you doing, honey?”

Adrianna felt like she was drowning. “I’m good. Don’t worry.”

Margaret smiled. “It’s what mothers do.”

“Right.”

Adrianna kissed her mother and promised to return. On the way out, she found Estelle in the kitchen watching a small television as she fried up eggs and bacon for dinner. Adrianna loved this kitchen. She’d spent more hours than she could count sitting on a stool talking to Estelle. Here she’d learned to cook. “Hey, I just wanted to say good-bye.”

Estelle shook her head. “Let me make you some eggs before you go. Won’t take but a minute.”

“I’m good, really. Hey, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Did I have colic?”

“No, honey, you didn’t have a bit of it. You were the easiest, sweetest baby I knew. Why you asking?”

“Just curious.” The child in the portrait wasn’t her.

Estelle frowned. “You’re thinking about that other baby.”

“Yes.”

“Your mama has done a good job of rewriting history. She’s blocked a lot out.”

“Did Dad hire you to take care of me?”

“Yes, I know for a fact it was you. You’ve got that birthmark on your butt, and if anything had happened to you I’d have known it wasn’t you.”

“Why’d he hire you?”

“He said your mama wasn’t well and you needed consistent care. You were a fussy baby those first few weeks. Not colic, but needy. Cried every time I put you down. I had a devil of a time getting you down for naps. I thought it might be your clothes—they were all brand spanking new. Itchy.”

“Really?”

“You wouldn’t take formula either. Had a hard time with the bottle.”

She swallowed. “Kendall told me our birth mother breastfed us.”

Estelle shook her head. “That would make sense. She tell you anything else about your real parents?”

Real. “They were simple folks. Loved the Bible. Our names were Eve and Sarah.”

“Good names.”

Nine months ago when Adrianna realized she’d never been legally adopted, she had had her attorney Reese Pearce quietly change her name from Sarah Turner—the name she’d been born with—to Adrianna Barrington. She’d made the name change for legal reasons but also because she didn’t know Sarah Turner. Had no connection to the Turner family. Legally she was Adrianna Barrington, but that also felt a bit like a fraud now. She was trapped between the life she’d been born to and the one thrust upon her.

“Do you know if there are any snapshots of Mom’s other baby?”

“If there were I never saw them. But I could have a look around in the attic. If there are pictures, they’d be there.”

“Thanks.”

Estelle frowned. “You might be opening some nasty wounds, baby.”

Her thoughts tumbled back to Gage’s dark expression when she’d left him today. “It seems to be the theme of the day.”

Craig clicked on the television and settled back into his favorite chair. It felt good to sit down. His back ached. His head throbbed. The day had been riddled with more problems than he could count. Clients were either bitching at him or demanding his attention.

But that was all behind him now. He was home. Here he could be himself and drop the façade he now detested.

Remote in one hand, he held a whiskey in the other. He hit PLAY on the video.

The grainy picture snapped on the screen. The image featured a woman standing by a brick wall, her hands bound by a chain that threaded through a hook on the wall above her head. She wore a pink slip that skimmed her long pale legs and hugged small perky breasts. Sweat glistened from her body. Long blond hair tumbled down her shoulders.

“How are you doing?” His voice was a whisper from off-screen.

Her desperate gaze shifted toward him. “Can I go now? My son is waiting.”

“Not yet. Not yet.”

She moistened damp lips. “Hey, if you want to do it again, I’m game.” She offered a weak smile that transmitted more fear than joy. “I just want to go home.”

“I mailed off your postcard today.”

She shook her head. “Postcard?”

“To your sister. The postcard from San Francisco. I didn’t want her or your son to worry.”

“Why should they worry? You said I could leave if I behaved.”

“Do you love me?”

She closed her eyes and cringed slightly as she recalled the lessons they’d had over the last seven days. “Yes. I love you, Craig.”

“And I love you, too, Adrianna.”

He pulled the. 38 from his waistband and shot her in the head. Blood splattered the wall behind her. Her body went limp.

The screen turned to static.

Craig turned off the television, ready for the next hunt.

Chapter Eleven

Wednesday, September 27, 8:58 p.m.

Gage had called Dr. Heckman’s phone number a couple of times but hadn’t gotten him or an answering machine. The phone just rang. Tomorrow he would track the man down.

He dropped his keys on his kitchen table. The second body had been excavated and transported to the state medical examiner’s office. They’d suffered a grim setback when Dr. Butler had told Gage he didn’t think the body was Jill Lable’s. This victim hadn’t been Craig’s teenage girlfriend and was at least a decade older.

Now the process of identifying the second victim would begin.

He shrugged off his coat and tossed it on the table, went to the fridge, and pulled out a cold beer. A few years ago, Gage had bought an old house on Richmond’s north side. The place had large rooms, plaster walls, and a big backyard. And it had six bedrooms, which meant he’d been able to offer a roof to his three brothers and his sister when she wasn’t in session at the University of Richmond.

Two of his three brothers, Travis and Kevin, had taken him up on the offers. Both were firefighters for the city and both were looking to save money and pay off college debt. His third brother, Tommy, lived with his girlfriend.

Gage popped the top and took a long sip. He loosened his tie and moved to the open newspaper that he’d been reading this morning. The paper was open to the society section. Normally, he skipped this part altogether but he’d had a few extra minutes to kill today.

The paper was still open to the page highlighting Adrianna’s charity auction. Her picture was front and center. She was standing next to a couple of other women he didn’t recognize. All were as young as she, all just as well bred. But she stood out from the rest. Vibrant, full of energy.

Gage sipped his beer as he lifted the picture and stared. He’d wanted to touch her so badly today that his fingers had ached. He’d figured he’d gotten over her and moved on but seeing her twice in twenty-four hours had proven he’d not gotten over shit.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he gulped down more beer.

The back door banged open and Travis appeared in the kitchen door. He wore jeans and a Richmond Fire Department T-shirt. He smelled of smoke. Dark circles hung under his eyes.

Grunting a greeting, Travis went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He took a liberal pull before he sighed.

“Rough night?” Gage said.

“Yeah. Fire in Blackwell. We pulled out a couple of kids with third-degree burns.”

“I’m sorry.”

Travis shook his head. “That kind of shit just shouldn’t happen.”