Dying Scream (29 page)

“Damn 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.

Adrianna might think of her mother as fragile but he wasn’t so sure. A stripper trying to steal Craig from Adrianna. A mistress threatening exposure at the advent of Adrianna’s wedding. A disabled husband draining Adrianna’s energy and life. Could Margaret have killed them?

Adrianna stood in the center of her kitchen pouring herself a glass of wine. She took a liberal sip, closing her eyes as the cool liquid moved down her throat. “Craig, did you kill those women? Was I that wrong about you?”

She’d always prided herself on good judgment. But now suspected it was faulty to the core.

The kitchen window creaked and strained against the growing wind outside and prompted her to retreat down the hallway to her bedroom. Painted a pale blue, the room was her sanctuary. A two-hundred-year-old four-poster bed and canopy that had been hers since she was a kid dominated the center. The sleek white comforter and dozen or so eyelet pillows gave the antique an updated, clean feel suited for a woman, not a girl. Sleek bedside tables complemented the bed, sheer curtains pooled on the floor and a painting by a local artist hung over the bed. Fresh daises filled a vase on her bureau.

She set the wineglass on the bedside table next to a half-read design book and started to pull the pillows from the bed, which she neatly stacked on a chaise in the corner.

Her limbs felt heavy and the day had finally caught up with her. It took all she had to wash her face and hang up her clothes before slipping on a nightgown and sliding in between the covers. The bed felt so good. And right now all she wanted to do was fall asleep and let this day go forever.

She closed her eyes and let her thoughts trip through her mind.

Craig’s handsome face flashed in her mind. His long fingers touched her face and caressed her cheek, yet it wasn’t his name she muttered. “Gage.”

Craig grabbed a clumpful of her hair and twisted painfully. Her eyes were so heavy with sleep, she couldn’t open them as his hot breath brushed her ear
.

“Bitch. Whore,” he said.

Clumsily, she pushed at his hands, unable to focus or to wrestle away from him. “Go away. You’re dead.”

His laughter radiated around her. “You wish.”

“You’re dead.”

“I am not. And if I could I’d kill you now.”

“No!”

“But soon you are going to pay for your unfaithfulness.”

Adrianna sat up in bed, her body drenched in sweat. She raked a shaking hand through her long hair. “Craig is dead. He’s dead!”

Craig cut off his headlights and pulled off the main road. Darkness had him slowing to a crawl as he followed the dusty road that wound a mile through wooded land toward the county landfill. The facility was closed but that didn’t really matter. He hadn’t planned on driving up to the gate. Instead he stopped halfway between the road and the landfill attendant’s gatehouse.

He thought about the body in the bed of his truck under the worn blue quilted blanket. He was anxious now to get rid of it. In all honesty, she’d been a disappointment. There’d been no real fight in her. And when she’d died, he’d not felt the sense of loss as he had the others.

Still, he’d kept her for four more days.

Craig put the car in PARK. Turning off the engine, he pocketed the keys and got out. The cooling fall air made his hip ache and he knew without weather forecasters saying so that it would rain soon.

Craig pulled the blanket off the woman. She lay curled on her side, her hands bound behind her back. The thick scent of death clung to her. Disposing of the bodies wasn’t pleasant and already he was anxious to be done. Gritting his teeth he picked her up, finding that she felt heavier and more unwieldy.