Читать книгу Silent Warning - Kathleen Long - Страница 12

Early the next morning, Kelly leaned her full weight against the smooth shower tiles, letting the steaming water pelt the small of her back. She rolled her head from the left to the right then back again to ease the knot of tension in her shoulders.

Oxygesic. She’d never heard the word before yesterday and now it was all she thought of. That and Dan Steele’s breathtaking blue eyes. Those two things had haunted her dreams, the little that she’d slept.

She’d spent several restless hours realizing she might have been too quick to believe Dan’s story. After all, he was a complete stranger, even if he’d been a friend of Rachel’s. Yes, he’d piqued her curiosity where Rachel’s death was concerned, but from now on, she’d be more cautious in following his lead.

Kelly straightened, letting the water run over the top of her head. The man might have a sound reason for wondering how Rachel and his sister had died, but Kelly didn’t know him well enough to trust him, and she didn’t plan to.

She’d once trusted her ex-fiancé, Brian, with all of her heart. What a lesson that had been.

Brian had entered her life like a knight in shining armor. Her parents had died in a small plane crash during one of their European jaunts. Kelly and Brian had been colleagues at a large Philadelphia advertising agency, and his kind, concerned manner had been most welcome in her time of emotional need. Hell, she’d clung to him like a love-starved puppy. He and Rachel had become all she had.

Two years later, she’d learned every move he’d made had been carefully choreographed to achieve his goal of a vice president’s slot. In the end, he’d broken Kelly’s heart, cost her a career and reputation, and taught her trust was an attribute highly over-rated.

Kelly had been falsely accused of trading corporate secrets, and Brian had been hailed for his role in exposing her. Rachel had exploited the story for a front-page byline.

A knock sounded out front just as Kelly finished drying off her hair. She shook off the old hurt, anchored a towel around herself and rushed to open the door. An express envelope sat wedged against the screen.

Pushing the door closed behind her, she dropped onto the sofa to open the envelope. The key sat taped and folded inside a note from Jane. Happy hunting, was all she’d written.

A chuckle slipped from Kelly’s lips, and she shook her head. Hunting was right, but she wasn’t so sure how happy she and Dan would be when they found their answers.

DAN STOOD on the deck, staring at the angry morning ocean. Storm coming, he thought. His mind wandered to Rachel and Diane. Did they have anything in common other than the way they died?

Guilt welled from deep inside him. Maybe if he’d been more available to his sister he could have prevented her death. All he could do now was continue his search for the truth about how she’d really died.

As for Rachel, had his quest for the truth pushed her into harm’s way? His gut said yes—most definitely yes—but one thing was for certain, she’d grabbed on to the story like a pit bull, as determined as he had been to find answers.

Rachel’s desirability had stemmed from the fact she was a reporter. Once Dan had discovered that, he’d manipulated her investigative nature to draw her interest to Oxygesic. They’d briefly shared a physical relationship, but neither had had any interest in taking things further.

Kelly’s image flashed through his mind. So much like Rachel and yet, so not like Rachel. The pull of attraction tugged at him, but he fought it. He’d slipped last night when he’d felt concern for her. As intriguing as he found the woman, he needed her for her ties to Rachel, nothing more. She was his one possibility to make a breakthrough on this investigation—his one hope at finding something that would convince Jake to go after Miller.

He glanced at his watch. Nine-fifteen. Time to find out what treasures her post-office key held.

DAN PULLED THE CAR into the gravel lot of the post office. Stones flew as he brought the car to an abrupt stop.

“Her brother said it was some kind of opiate.” Kelly sat in the passenger seat, scrutinizing the key in her palm.

Dan glanced at the small, brass object, wondering what answers would be unlocked by the tiny sliver of metal. “Oxygesic?”

Kelly nodded. “He didn’t know that for sure. The family didn’t request more specific testing.”

He gripped the steering wheel, struggling to control the frustration and anger he’d fought to keep in check ever since he’d learned of Rachel’s death. “And that doesn’t seem a bit convenient to you?”

“Convenient?” Kelly met his glare, curiosity shimmering in her brown gaze.

Sudden heat licked low and heavy in Dan’s belly. He shoved the unwanted sensation away, retraining his focus on the mystery he so desperately needed to solve. “That she died with the very drug in her system she’d been investigating.” He cut the ignition, reaching for the door.

“What if it’s a coincidence?”

The uncertainty in Kelly’s voice stopped him cold. He needed her with him on this if they were to find the proof he needed. “You don’t believe me?”

Their gazes locked. Kelly held her ground, but didn’t answer.

He pushed again. “What does your gut tell you?”

Kelly shifted in her seat. “My gut says something’s up.” She spoke the words softly, yet surely.

“Exactly.” Dan opened the driver’s door and nodded to the key now clasped in her fist. “Let’s go.”

“WHAT’S THE NUMBER on the key?” Dan approached the first row of post-office boxes.

“Four-three-six.” Kelly ran her fingers over the metal squares. Two-twenty… Two-sixty-seven. She tipped her head. “This way.”

Dan followed her into a dark corner of the post office. Sand grit beneath her sneakers, and she slipped as they rounded the last row of boxes.

“Help you folks?” A middle-aged woman leaned over the service counter.

Dan stole a quick glance in her direction. “No thanks. We’re good.” He leaned close to Kelly, dropping his voice to a whisper. “She must be new. I’ve never seen her before.”

His breath brushed against Kelly’s cheek, and a whisper of awareness danced down her spine. She stood still for a moment, shocked by the effect of his nearness on her senses.

He turned away, resuming his scan of the box numbers. “Found it.”

His gruff tone snapped her back to reality. She stepped to where he waited and handed him the key. Dan slipped the tiny object into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicked, and their gazes met.

Kelly’s heart lurched in her throat. The now familiar determination fired from the depths of Dan’s eyes. It was a determination she couldn’t help but admire, even though the look rang chillingly familiar to her memories of Brian.

Dan swung the small metal door open then reached for the stack of waiting envelopes. Kelly held her breath, not knowing what she expected him to find. It wasn’t as if the killer would have mailed Rachel a signed confession—would he? A small spiral notebook appeared as Dan lifted the pile. Butterfly stickers covered the red cover.

“Jackpot.” Kelly reached past him to pluck the notebook from the box, gripping it tightly in her shaking hand.

“Let’s get out of here.” He snapped the box closed, grabbed her elbow and steered her abruptly toward the door.

The strength of his grip startled her, and she eased her arm free from his grasp. “Don’t you want to—”

“Outside.”

A few moments later, they sat in Dan’s car, staring at the box’s contents on their laps.

“What’s in the envelopes?” Kelly’s heart pounded. To think, just yesterday she’d thought her trip would involve nothing more than packing up Rachel’s life. Now she found herself growing obsessed with discovering exactly how that life had ended—and why. She might never have the chance to make amends with Rachel, but she could make amends with her memory.

“Looks like a bunch of junk. An electric bill, a book club ad, a postcard from the chamber of commerce. What’s this?” He turned an envelope in his hand. “State board of pharmacy?”

He ripped the end off the envelope and pulled out a note handwritten on professionally printed letterhead.

“Unable to reach you by phone,” Dan read out loud. “Didn’t want to leave a message. Call me. Think I found what you needed. ‘S.’”

Excitement and hope rushed through Kelly.

Dan scowled. “‘S.’ How the hell am I going to find out who ‘S’ is?”

“What’s the chamber thing?” Kelly tapped the postcard, hoping for another clue.

Dan turned over the small piece. “Business After Hours.” He grimaced, meeting Kelly’s gaze. “It’s a business card exchange. Time of your life.” He shook his head and started to rip the card in two.

Kelly snatched it from his fingers. “Maybe I should go.”

His puzzled gaze captured hers and held. She steeled herself, refusing to be intimidated by his intensity. He narrowed his eyes without saying a word.

She spoke first. “Couldn’t hurt to meet some people. Don’t most of the local business owners attend?”

He nodded, still silent.

Kelly lifted one shoulder then let it drop. “What about the local pharmacist?”

“Don’t even think it.” Dan started the ignition then eased the car out of the space.

Annoyance flashed through her. “I need to know what really happened to Rachel.”

“That makes two of us.”

A muscle worked in his jaw as Kelly scrutinized his sharp profile. “Do you expect me to sit back and let you call the shots?”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Dan cast a sideways glance, one dark brow arching. “Or do you think he’ll take one look at you and explain the accounting method he uses for his illegal drug sales?”

Kelly crossed her arms over her chest, her annoyance morphing into anger. “What makes you any more qualified for this than me?”

His features softened momentarily, but he seemed to catch himself, restoring his carefully controlled expression. “I know the locals.”

Kelly pulled herself as tall as she could against the passenger seat. “From what I understand you spent most of your adult life up North. Didn’t you just come back recently?”

A smile played against his lips for a split second. “You checked me out?”

“I said I would.”

He turned to meet her gaze as if studying her face.

Kelly started at the heat sparking between them. “Just what is it you did up North?”

“Corporate development.” Dan spoke the words flatly, as if he hadn’t appreciated her asking.

“And now?”

He inhaled sharply. “And now I figure out what really happened to my sister…and Rachel.”

They rode in silence for several long seconds. Kelly turned to stare out the side window, her focus landing on a small cemetery tucked away along the side of the road.

“Diane would have celebrated her birthday later this week.” Dan’s voice broke the silence. “Instead she’s in there.”

Kelly’s heart squeezed. She turned, intending to reach for his hand, but catching herself before she made the far-too-intimate gesture. “I’m sorry.”

The fact she’d come so close to touching him shocked her. She hadn’t felt compelled to reach for any man since Brian had stomped all over her faith in the opposite sex, yet the raw emotion strangled inside Dan’s voice had registered deep inside her. She’d have to watch herself, and her reactions.

Silence beat between them yet again.

“I’m a graphic designer,” Kelly blurted out, suddenly uncomfortable with the tension squeezing the air out of the small car. “You don’t suppose a business owner like a pharmacist could use a new brochure every now and then to boost business, do you?”

She turned toward Dan in time to see the lines of his profile sharpen. “Might be worth a shot.” He jerked a thumb toward the colorful notebook still sitting on her lap. “Anything?”

Kelly flipped through the blank pages. “Not much. Just one word on the last page.” She fanned the sheets. “And it looks like several pages are missing.”

“What’s the word?”

“Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare?” He grimaced, shooting a glance at Kelly. “Was she a big fan?”

“No.” Kelly shook her head. “She couldn’t stand him.”

She stared at the word then flipped the notebook closed. Disappointment eased through her. She’d hoped the notebook would hold more than one word. At least they had the pharmacy board lead.

“Do you think ‘S’ could be Shakespeare?” she asked.

“I’ll call and find out.” Dan pulled into the driveway of Rachel’s house and cut the engine. “I’ll meet you at the chamber at six. Miller shouldn’t see us together.”

Kelly gathered the mail and the notebook and hesitated as she climbed out of the small car. Tension still filled the space between them, but the fact he’d accepted her idea had shifted something intangible between them. “Thanks.”

He nodded, averting his gaze from her face. “I’ll see what I can find out about our friend Shakespeare.”

She climbed to the top of the steps, pausing to watch as his car pulled away. What had Rachel gotten herself into? Whatever it was, Kelly had a sinking feeling it had gotten her killed.

DAN SAT staring through the car windshield at the Sunset Assisted Living complex. Lilac mums lined the sidewalk and hunter-green shutters framed spotless windows. The sun reflected off the bright white vinyl siding.

The building looked so calm on the outside. Orderly and neat. Nothing like the inside where minds and bodies failed—some slowly, some quickly.

His mother had been a resident for almost a year, since her dementia had worsened to the point where she needed round-the-clock care. She seemed content here, though. As content as could be expected.

Dan sat for a moment, letting his thoughts trace back over his conversation with Kelly. He shouldn’t have mentioned Diane’s birthday when they passed the cemetery. He wasn’t a fan of sharing personal details, let alone details that hinted at weakness. Kelly and her questions had somehow burrowed beneath his skin like an itch he had no intention of scratching. He’d have to be more careful when he saw her again tonight.

Dan’s stomach tightened at the thought, but he shook it off, refocusing on the building waiting before him. He pulled the key from the ignition and climbed from the small car, slamming the door shut before heading for the entrance.

“How are you doing, Dolores?”

The strawberry-blonde sitting at the reception desk looked up, flashing a warm smile as Dan pushed through the glass doors. “Pretty good, Mr. Steele. How ’bout you?”

“Can’t complain.” Liar. “Is she down in activities?”

The young woman glanced at the clock on the wall. “Should be.”

“Thanks.”

A long walk later, he found his mother sitting in a wingback chair facing a window. The familiar ache pulled at his heart. She deserved so much more.

The rest of the unit residents sat in a circle, tossing a beach ball from one to another. Strains of Glenn Miller filled the air.

His mother’s back served as a wall between herself and the others, so unlike the vital, social woman she’d once been before her world had fallen apart.

Dan nodded to the activities aide and pulled up a chair. He put his hand on the arm of his mother’s chair, letting his gaze follow hers.

Gulls floated in the breeze above the sound. Sunshine glistened off the surface of the water, broken only by the wake of a small sailboat headed back toward the marina.

“Mom.”

She turned to face him, her soft white hair seeming to have grown even thinner since last week, her pale blue eyes more milky.

“It’s me, Dan.”

“I know who you are.” She turned her attention back to the window. “How’s your sister?”

“She’s d… She’s okay, Mom.” He’d probably go to hell for lying to her, but why not?

“I saw him kill her, you know.”

His pulse quickened. “What?”

His mother’s gaze stayed fixed on the sound. She raised her hand, pointing a bony finger toward the water. “Right there. I tried to tell her. They wouldn’t let me tell her.”

She lowered her hand to her lap and fingered the zipper on her housecoat.

“Who, Mom? Diane?”

“No.” She frowned, the grimace accentuating the wrinkles left by age and the life she’d loved alongside the ocean. “The other girl. I tried to tell her, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“I don’t understand, Mom. Who?”

“At the market. I saw her at the market.” She looked at him with searching eyes, gripping his hand with a force that shocked him. “She’s dead, Danny. I saw him kill her and they wouldn’t let me tell her.” She looked back toward the water. “They made me leave.”

Sadness squeezed Dan’s heart, twisted his stomach. His mother had never done a thing to deserve this fate—this smothering disease that nibbled away at her mind a little more with each passing day.

“Wouldn’t let me tell her.” Her voice trailed off into a faint whisper.

Not fair at all, Dan thought.

KELLY PULLED into the lot outside the chamber’s office a little before six. The warm architecture made the building look more like a home than a professional building. People milled about on the covered porch, shaking hands, patting backs and sipping drinks.

She climbed out of her Jetta and checked her purse one last time. She tucked her business-card holder into the back pocket of the bag, making it easily accessible. Head high, Kelly took a deep breath, smoothing her skirt before heading for the entrance.

A middle-aged woman with short gray hair greeted her at the top of the steps. “I’m Barb Parker,” she said with an outstretched hand. “Welcome to the chamber. Are you a guest this evening?”

“I am.” Kelly shook the woman’s hand, giving her warmest smile. “I spoke to you earlier today on the phone. I’m Kelly Weir.”

“Well, welcome.” The woman’s demeanor slipped from pleasant to curious in the span of a split second. “So sorry about your friend, Rachel. Have you finished packing up her house?”

“Working on it.”

“Come on in. Let’s get you a name tag and get you introduced around.” She put her hand on the back of Kelly’s shoulder, steering her toward the registration table. “What was it you do again?”

“Public Relations and Marketing.” Kelly concentrated on tamping down the nerves clawing their way up her throat. “Graphic design… Writing.”

The next few minutes passed in a whirlwind of handshakes, greetings and smiles. Kelly wondered if she would ever remember any of these names.

“Ms. Weir.” A gruff voice behind her made her jump. Kelly spun around. “How are you getting settled in?” Frank Healey, the Realtor who’d given her the key to Rachel’s house stood smiling, his expression expectant.

“Fine, thanks,” Kelly said, relieved to see a familiar face. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too. This is my wife, Marge.”

Kelly shook hands with a plump woman of about fifty. Her blond hair fell smartly in a short crop. She wore no makeup, and her skin showed the wrinkles that came from years of sun exposure.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Marge nodded thoughtfully, measuring Kelly. “Frank said you looked like Rachel. He was right.”

“I’ve heard that most of my life.” Kelly smiled. “I take it as a compliment.”

“You should.” The skin around Marge’s eyes softened. “Rachel was a lovely girl. Such a shame.”

“Horrible accident.” A deep ache blossomed in Kelly’s chest. She straightened, feeling a renewed determination to get to the bottom of what had actually happened.

“Well.” Marge looked over both shoulders and leaned toward Kelly, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I heard it was drugs.”

Kelly pasted on a shocked expression. As much as she hated gossips, she might have hit the jackpot with Marge Healey.

“Margie,” Frank snapped.

Marge shrugged. “I was shocked to hear it. Not that I’d ever speak ill of the dead.”

Frank cleared his throat, his expression amused. “You need to know anything in this town, Margie’s your gal. Dead or not, she’s got the latest dirt on everyone.”

Sadness flickered through Kelly. Had Rachel changed so much these people wouldn’t question drugs in her system? It didn’t seem possible. “I don’t believe she’d use drugs.” She directed the comment to Marge, hoping for an explanation.

Marge pressed her lips together, shooting a glance at Frank.

“The thought is she got hooked while she worked at the institute,” he said.

“The institute?” Kelly frowned.

“Serenity Pain Institute.” Marge gave a shake of her short hair. “She didn’t last long. Last I heard she was a freelance reporter.”

“We called that out of a job in my day.” Frank fell silent as his gaze landed on Kelly’s serious stance. “Are you enjoying it here?” He patted Kelly’s arm, obviously trying to change the subject. “As much as you can under the circumstances.”

“I am. But, I can’t help admitting I’m concerned about Rachel’s death. Do you think one of her stories got her into trouble?”

Frank and Marge exchanged a quick glance. Kelly’s pulse quickened. She’d obviously struck a chord.

“Now why would you ask that?” Marge gave a tight smile. “Someone been putting ideas in your head?” Marge touched her fingertips to Kelly’s shoulder. “Don’t go looking for trouble where there is none.”

The woman’s comment didn’t sit well. Kelly’s instincts screamed that trouble was exactly what Rachel had discovered, and as the result of her work.

“You folks are monopolizing this young lady’s time.” A deep voice rumbled from behind her, pricking the hairs on the back of her neck to attention.

She turned, chilled instantly by the coldest pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“Vince Miller.” The man extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”