Dying Scream (17 page)

“If she’s not our Jane Doe, then why talk to the parents?” Ayden said.

“Just a gut feeling.”

Ayden tapped his finger on the table. “C.C., talk to the parents. See if their daughter ever turned up. Hudson, you have an address?”

Gage wrote it on the legal pad and tore off the page for C.C. “Thanks.”

She folded the paper and creased the seam with her fingernail. “No sweat.”

Ayden leaned forward. “Hudson, keep digging in Adrianna Barrington’s life. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that nothing is what it seems.”

The gray sky was ripe with rain clouds when Gage and Vega arrived at the sleek office complex in the western end of the county. Gage and Vega had learned at the offices of Minor Landscapes that Fred Minor and his landscape crew were at this office location. It was easy to spot the three large green trucks and the collection of mowers and weed eaters.

Gage parked behind the last of the three trucks and they got out. Most of the workers were dark-skinned Mexicans; however, one man in the front truck was taller, had a stock of sandy brown hair. His skin was weathered, making him look older than his early thirties.

Several of the men glanced up from rakes watching closely as if they couldn’t decide to run or stay. Vega spoke briefly in clear Spanish and the men nodded. They didn’t run but gazes remained wary.

“You tell them we aren’t here for them?” Gage said.

Vega nodded. “Yeah.”

Gage set his sights on the sandy-haired man. He wore pants and a matching shirt with a name tag that read FRED. The news he was about to break made his stomach churn. He’d never gotten used to this part. “Mr. Minor.”

Minor glanced up from a clipboard. The lines in his sun-etched face deepened. “Detective Hudson. It’s been a while.”

Gage extended his hand. Minor’s grip was strong and his hands deeply calloused. “Yes, sir.”

“You have news about Rhonda?”

“I do.”

Minor nodded solemnly. “Let’s have it.”

“We found a body in a shallow grave near here. It’s Rhonda.”

For a moment Fred Minor said nothing. His jaw tightened and released as if he struggled with emotions. He swallowed. “Can’t say that I’m surprised. All this time—it would have been a miracle if she’d been found alive. Still, I’ve lit a candle for her in church every week.” He smacked the clipboard against his thigh, pursed his lips as tears threatened. “How’d she die?”

Gage remembered the feelings that had brewed when his own sister had gone missing. If Jessie had died…“I can’t say now.”

“Why not!” Sadness and anger propelled the words forward. “She was my sister and I have a right to know.”

“I don’t want to release information now. I’m sorry and I’d tell you everything if I could. But I’m trying to identify her killer.” Gage spoke softly, understanding Minor’s pain. He remembered the man’s frantic words during the initial interviews three years ago. “I really want to catch the killer.”

The words penetrated Minor’s anger and almost immediately, it crumbled. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “What else can you tell me about what happened to her?”

“Not much. The remains, well, there wasn’t much left. We’re going to have to do some digging to piece together the story. We don’t know much beyond the cause of death.”

Minor blinked, trying to hold on to the pooling tears in his eyes. “At least tell me that she died quickly.”

The bullet that sliced through her brain had ended her life in a blink, but the days, maybe weeks leading up to her death…“She died quickly.”

A sigh shuddered through the older man. “Thank you for that much, Detective.”

Gage wanted answers. He wanted to know what had happened to Rhonda. “You’ve had time to think over the last couple of years. Any idea who might have done this?”

“I always think about Craig Thornton. Rich, spoiled. Rhonda thought he was the best. She was always talking about him. Craig this. Craig that.” His voice cracked.

“Anyone else?”

“No.” A sigh shuddered through him. “She wanted to be an artist. She wanted to paint. And Thornton played on that by going on and on about her talent. If she was so damn good, why did she just file papers for him?”

The man’s pain grew with each syllable. Softly, Gage said, “You know about his accident?”

“Yeah. The son of a bitch died on December second. I read the obits every day since his accident. I even went to his funeral.”

Gage had seen the same obit and had toyed with the idea of going. In the end, he’d stayed away because he’d not wanted to see Adrianna. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just needed some kind of closure. I knew Rhonda wasn’t coming back but I tried to take some satisfaction in knowing that if Thornton had hurt her, he was dead and burning in hell.”

“You think Thornton killed your sister?”

“Now more than ever.”

“What happened at the funeral?”

“I sat in the back. The service was packed with acquaintances and friends. Thornton’s wife sat at the front of the church. She didn’t move. Looked like marble. Ice. Didn’t show any emotion at all.”

“Her husband had been in a coma for a couple of years at that point.” The surprising urge to defend Adrianna was automatic.

“Yeah, I guess she had it rough. But there was something cold and hard about her and I just didn’t care about her feelings.” He pulled the air into his lungs and let it out slowly. “At the end of the service I got in the receiving line because I wanted to shake her hand. I don’t know why. I guess I just wanted to make some kind of contact.”

Gage frowned. “You exchanged words with her?”

“She was nice enough. Thanked me for coming. I hadn’t planned to introduce myself. I just wanted to see her up close.”

“And?”

“Standing next to her was her mother. The old lady looked upset. Eyes red and blotchy. The mother looked like she was all emotion and drama—the complete opposite of her daughter.”

“The mother’s name is Mrs. Barrington.”

“Whatever. The longer I stood there, the madder I felt. So I told Adrianna that my sister Rhonda had worked with Craig at his gallery. Her eyes locked on mine and she asked me if I’d ever found my sister.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah. Surprised me. When I told her no, she said she was very sorry.” He shook his head. “I thought for a moment she really meant it. It deflated some of my anger.”

“Anything else?”

“I was a few steps away when I heard the mother say, ‘They both hurt you. I hope they both rot in hell.’”

“Really?”

“I turned back and saw Adrianna whisper something to her mother. The lady shut right up.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Gage said.

“And tell you what? That I thought I heard something? Rhonda’s case was cold.”

He was right. There’d have been nothing he could have done with such scant information.

“I’ll tell you one thing about that Adrianna woman.”

“What’s that?”

“Never play poker against her. She can hide her emotions better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Gage and Vega arrived at the Thornton Gallery located in the historic section of Richmond called Shockoe Bottom. The building had once been a tobacco warehouse but had been converted twenty years ago. Black paint covered the exterior and large picture windows gave a view into large white rooms that showcased works of art ranging from modern to classic. Pine floors with a heavy lacquer finish glistened.

The detectives were greeted by a large bronze sculpture of a ballerina. “How much you think it’s worth?” Vega said.

“Hell if I know. My tastes run to beer signs and football posters.”

“I hear ya.” This place, this world of art and fine pieces, eluded him. “A lot of money for stuff.”

A twentysomething woman appeared from a secret door that blended seamlessly into the wall. She was dressed in a black pencil skirt, white blouse, and red high-heeled shoes. Red hair pulled back in tight curls highlighted the sharp bones of her face. One glance at them and her eyes turned from boredom to annoyance. “May I help you?”

Gage pulled out his badge and showed it to her. “We’re here to see Janet Guthrie. I have a few questions about her late partner Craig Thornton.”

The receptionist managed a smile. “Let me just tell her you’re here.” She vanished back through the invisible door. Seconds later, she reappeared. “I’ll show you to her office.”

As they followed, Gage said, “Did you know Rhonda Minor?”

The woman hesitated mid-step. “We went to art school together.”

“What can you tell me about her?”

“Ambitious. Smart. Talented painter.”

“What did she like to paint?”

“Everything.”

“Any of her stuff still around?”

“Maybe. In storage.”

He pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Do me a favor and look.”

“Why? She left the area. Her sister said she moved to Europe, I think.”

“We found Ronda Minor’s body two days ago. She was murdered.”

The girl’s face paled. “Oh.”

“Find those paintings.” He managed a smile he suspected was more like a snarl.

Her gaze flittered away. “Sure.”

They followed the receptionist down a carpeted hallway to an office in the back corner. After a quick knock and introduction they were seated in front of Janet Guthrie. Late thirties, she wore her long dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her suit was a deep blue, designer no doubt, and diamond stud earrings winked from her earlobes.

After brief introductions, Janet Guthrie held out a manicured hand. “Detective Hudson. What can I do for you?”

“I was here a few years ago.”

“Craig mentioned it. I was away around that time.” She acted like this was a social call. “You have questions about Craig.”

Gage noted her grip was firm, her gaze direct. “Just a few.”

She gestured toward the two chairs in front of her desk and moved behind her desk. “Please have a seat.”

The trio sat. Once fortified by the desk, she relaxed.

“Do you remember Rhonda Minor?” He was careful to keep his tone even.

The woman grimaced. “How can I forget? She’s the one you were looking for a couple of years ago. Craig told me everything about your visit.”

“As I remember, you were in Europe?”

“Good memory.”

He flipped through the pages of his notebook as if he couldn’t remember. “Thornton said Rhonda took off a lot and missed work.”

Janet lightly touched the diamond earring on her right ear. “She missed some time but not an excessive amount. I don’t think it was all that bad. Did you find her?”

“Yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Don’t tell me. She was sunning herself on a tropical beach.”

Vega’s gaze skimmed and catalogued the room. “Not exactly.”

“Then where did you find her?”

“It appears she was murdered shortly after she vanished.” Gage watched Janet’s face pale.

Janet drew in a sharp breath. “That’s awful. Where was she found?”

He leaned back in his chair. “That’s the puzzling part.”

“Why is that puzzling?”

“Can’t really go into detail about that now.”

“Why not?”

“Not ready to tip my hand.” Gage noticed she kept touching her earring. He wondered what she was hiding.

“How did she die?”

“Shot.”

“Okay. What can I do?”

“Last time I was here, Craig Thornton was adamant that he and Rhonda had only a professional relationship.”

Her smile faltered just a fraction. “Okay.”

Vega crossed his legs and straightened the cuff of his pants. “Is that true?”

Janet traced a manicured finger around the bottom edge of her pristine blotter. “I kept my nose out of Craig’s personal life.”

Gage flipped a page in his notebook. “Ms. Guthrie, the man is dead. What good would it do to protect him now?”

She brushed an imaginary strand of hair from her forehead. “I’m not protecting Craig.”

Vega adjusted the cuff on his pants. “The press hasn’t sunk their teeth into this story, but the clock is ticking. When they do get a hold of this story, they’ll put two and two together and then you’ll have an ex-partner gallery linked to murder. Knowing how conservative folks are around here, that can’t be good.”

Anger and fear darkened her eyes. “Craig wouldn’t have killed Rhonda.”

“Because…” Gage prompted.

Janet spoke carefully, deliberately. “Craig was very, very fond of Rhonda.”

“They had a sexual relationship?” Vega said.

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “They’d been sleeping together for about a year before she went missing.”

The news didn’t shock Gage. The outrage he felt for Adrianna did. “Craig was engaged to Adrianna Barrington during that time, wasn’t he?”

“He and Adrianna had dated since college. Everyone thought they were the perfect couple. And they were in many, many ways.” A bitter smile lifted the edge of her lips. “Look, I liked Craig. He was a good man. But he grew bored very easily. Even with Adrianna. Rhonda offered him a distraction.”

“You think Adrianna knew her fiancé was cheating on her?” Vega said.

“He was discreet but I’ve no idea. She was a bit naïve in those days. But I can tell you that Craig did love Adrianna. He drew strength from her and he never would have left her.”

“But he liked to cat around with lots of different women,” Vega added.

“Those women meant nothing to him,” she said.

Vega leaned forward. “The guy makes a habit of screwing around and Adrianna didn’t know?”

“She married him, didn’t she?” Janet retorted.

“Maybe she’s the forgiving type,” Vega said.

“Adrianna wouldn’t have tolerated that kind of behavior. I think Craig’s mother understood this. Those last years she was alive she kept him on a short leash. Threatened to cut him off a couple of times.”

Gage kept his expression stoic. He switched the conversation’s direction. “Rhonda knew Craig was getting married.”

“Yes. Craig and Adrianna announced their engagement in September.”

“And she was okay with that?”

“Rhonda fancied herself in love with Craig. She wanted him to marry her, not Adrianna. About a week before the wedding she tried to force the issue. Craig told me later that she threatened to go to Adrianna if he didn’t break off the wedding. He offered her money if she’d go away.”