Dying Scream (24 page)

Adrianna gave Reese a recap of events.

With each new detail his frown deepened. “I haven’t heard anything in the news.”

“It’s just a matter of time before this gets out. And when it does I’m afraid the estate is going to be overrun with curiosity seekers.”

“This isn’t good.”

“It gets worse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“One of the victims—Rhonda Minor—worked for Craig at the gallery.”

Reese leaned forward and dropped his voice. “What kinds of questions are the cops asking you?”

She traced her finger around the rim of her water glass. Soft piano music drifted in through hidden speakers. “Like if I knew about Rhonda Minor’s affair with Craig.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you know about the affair?”

Tension twisted around her heart. “Frankly, I don’t believe there was an affair.”

Pearce raised a brow. “Adrianna, Craig could be impulsive.”

“I know. I’ve seen his stock choices. But I just don’t believe he was an adulterer or murderer.” She shook her head. “Just weeks before the accident I’d had a major discussion with Craig about all the time he was putting in at the gallery. He told me he’d just made a big sale that he’d been working on for weeks. He said we were set.”

Reese’s expression remained neutral. No shock. No surprise. “What do the cops know?”

“I told them what I told you.”

“Adrianna.” Her name sounded like a painful groan. “Never ever talk to the cops without talking to me first.”

“I saw no reason to lie to Detective Hudson. I do want the killer caught.”

“Detective Gage Hudson?”

“Yes.”

“A few years ago, he was the detective who wanted to search the estate for that woman in Craig’s office. I was able to prevent it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Pearce shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Craig didn’t kill those women.”

“I didn’t say he did, but the cops are thinking it. Going forward, I don’t want you to give them a weather report without talking to me first.”

“Don’t you want this murder solved?”

“My priority is to protect my client, and until those graves are moved, you are my client.” He picked up his Scotch and swirled the amber liquid. “Adrianna, I’m not as convinced of Craig’s innocence. The firm assigned me to the Thornton family twenty years ago. In that time I’ve cleaned up a few family messes.”

“For Craig?”

He avoided the question. “Do you know who that other woman might be?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

“And if you did, would you tell me?”

A half smile tipped the edge of his lips. “Doubtful.”

“Why not? I think the last couple of years have proven that I’m not the naïve bride who married Craig.”

His gaze settled on her. Appreciation flashed. “You’ve grown into an amazing woman. But if I tell you what I knew, then you couldn’t claim innocence when the cops asked more questions.”

Suddenly, her stomach turned with fear and disgust. She glanced down at the garden salad she’d barely touched. “Why would Janet tell the cops they were sleeping together?”

“Janet has a big mouth and not enough brains. She likely has her own agenda.”

“What could she possibly want? She owns the gallery outright.”

He raised his glass. All his nails were buffed perfectly, except the thumb on his right hand, which was blackened. No doubt caught in the rigging of his sailboat. “Who knows with Janet?”

She sipped her iced tea. “Reese, I’m worried about the land sale. If Mazur wants his money back I won’t be able to pay him. It’s all gone to bills.”

“Mazur wants the land. He’s made that clear. Going forward, let me handle him. And let me see what I can do about getting the cops to proceed with the excavations. I know a judge.”

“I don’t want to interfere with their investigation.”

“Neither do I.” Sunlight caught the gold on his Harvard class ring. “Don’t worry.”

“Reece, let’s give the cops a few more days. I’ve got the time.”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Thanks.”

“How’s your mother doing?”

“Okay, not great. We had another trip to the ER the other night. She’s fine, as always. She still won’t discuss the adoption with me.” She swirled the half-full cup. “I’ve been thinking about Mom’s first daughter a lot these last couple of months.”

“Why? Don’t you have enough on your plate?”

She shrugged. “My plate is always full. That’s par for the course. But no one ever seemed to give that baby a second thought. It’s as if she never lived. That bothers me.”

Reese laid a hand on hers. “The only thing that should be on your mind now is planning your new life. Have you found an apartment in Paris yet?”

“I haven’t had the time to look.”

“You can always use mine.”

“Thanks, but that is too generous.”

“Not at all. It sits empty most of the time.”

“Thanks, Reese.” She pulled her hand free and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. There are boxes at the Colonies waiting for me.”

“Boxes?”

“Up from the basement at the estate. I’ve got to go through and determine if they’re trash or treasure.”

“Adrianna.” His expression grew serious. “I am here for you, not just as an attorney but a friend.”

Reese’s hold on her gaze had her running nervous fingers through her hair. “Keep your fingers crossed and hope there are no more surprises.”

“Hey, Gage, it’s Jessie.” A wave of relief washed over Gage as he listened to his sister’s voicemail message. “I’ve still got the mountain o’ laundry at your place. I think some of it might be alive. Anyway, I’ll be swinging by Saturday to finish. If you and the bros are there we can order pizza. Ciao.”

Gage hung up. He’d make a point to stop by late Saturday night or early Sunday morning to catch up with her. He clipped his phone back in his belt holster and dropped his gaze back to ten years’ worth of Craig Thornton’s phone bills. From the stacks of paperwork, it was clear Craig had lived on his phone.

Vega pushed through the conference room doors, his arms loaded with more boxes of paper. “I’ve picked up the missing persons files. Five to ten years ago, Caucasian females who were over fifteen and under fifty.”

“Good.”

“You work a lot of these cases?”

Gage nodded. “A good many.”

Vega glanced in the box. “So many missing. I can’t imagine what the families must go through.”

Gage pinched the bridge of his nose. “It sucks.”

Vega picked up on the anger tangled around the words. “Sounds personal.”

“It is. Was. Long story.” His tone left no room for more discussion. “Let’s start digging.”

As Gage glanced at the box of missing persons files, a familiar tension rose in his chest. “Let’s hope we have a match.”

As Adrianna pushed through the front door of the estate, the sound of hammers greeted her. Shoving her sunglasses on top of her head, she let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. The main parlor was filled with a few dozen barrels, each with a round metal latch at the top.

The hammering grew louder and she moved toward the kitchen. When she rounded the corner, she found Ben standing on a ladder, hammering at the side of the old cabinets.

In between whacks she shouted, “Ben!”

He started and turned. “Adrianna. Good Lord, you scared the pudding out of me.”

She smiled. “Sorry. What’s going on? I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He climbed down off the ladder and tucked the hammer in the pocket of his coveralls. “Mom tells me that the new owner is fixing to gut the kitchen.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, it just seemed a shame to me that these cabinets were going to waste. The new owner was by earlier and said I could take whatever I wanted.”

“Mr. Mazur was here?”

“Walking the property,” he said. “Wants his surveyors in soon.”

“Right.”

“I figured I’d salvage the fixtures and cabinets for you, along with some of the bathroom gear. I know you like old fixtures.”

“That’s kind of you. But I have no real use for them. They’re all yours.”

“Oh, no. These should be sold. You could make money.”

“It’s a nice thought, but I just don’t want them.”

He pulled out a pad from his pocket. He smelled of sweat and hard labor. “Well, I did some calling around. The cabinets, bath fixtures, and paneling could fetch ten grand. I could take it to a buyer and have a check cut for you.”

That was about right. “Only if you charge me fifty percent. I’ll donate my half to the charity auction.”

“Oh, I wasn’t fixing to charge you.”

“I won’t let you remove a single item if you don’t.”

He frowned, turning over her proposal. “Okay. But I’m going to make the buyer give me top dollar.”

The front door opened and closed with a bang. Marie appeared, looking breathless. “Sorry about that. The wind must have caught the door. Forgot my cell phone.”

Adrianna smiled. “No problem. I was just visiting with Ben.”

Marie fiddled with the button on her blue sweater. “I hope he’s not bothering you.”

“Not at all.”

Ben smiled. “Just taking down cabinets Mazur doesn’t want. I’m gonna sell them and split the proceeds with Adrianna. She’s donating her share.”

“That’s good thinking, Ben,” Marie said.

Adrianna glanced at her watch. “The more for the charity, the better. Hey, I’ve got to start going through those boxes if I hope to be done today.”

He wrinkled his nose. “They’re all moldy and nasty.”

Marie glanced at the bins. “I’d expect no less. Lord only knows how many years they’ve been in the basement.”

“Sorting them is the last job I have to do, other than moving the graves,” Adrianna said.

“That must be a relief,” Marie said. “When are the police going to get back to work on that?”

“Soon, I hope.”

“And speaking of work.” Ben nodded to them. “Best get back to those cabinets.”

“Thank you, Ben. See you at home tonight,” Marie said.

“Will do, Mom.”

“Thanks, Ben,” Adrianna said.

When he left, Marie followed Adrianna into the living room. She quickly spotted her phone on the windowsill. “Honestly, I should wear it around my neck.”

“I couldn’t live without mine.” She stared at the few dozen storage barrels. She chose a barrel at random, unlatched the ring that held the round top in place, and pried it open. The smell of must and old house rose up. She sneezed. “Great.”

Marie shook her head. “Why don’t you leave those to me?”

“No, I really need to do this.”

From the kitchen, Ben’s hammer started banging again.

Gingerly, Adrianna started to pick through what looked like old linens. “Vintage. Nineteen thirties. Handwork was lovely.”

“Pity moths have eaten through some of the fine fabrics, but others might be salvaged.”

“I think you’re right.”

As Adrianna dug through the linens, Marie stood close, her hands tracing the smooth line of her phone. “What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

Marie glanced back toward the kitchen and then lowered her voice a notch. “You’re looking for something that belonged to the baby?”

Adrianna glanced up. For a moment she just stared, not sure if she’d heard Marie right.

“I know your mother and Miss Frances were friends. I remember the night…well, the night the baby died.”

Adrianna blinked. Never would she have expected this. “What do you know about the baby?”

Marie moistened her lips, swallowed. “Only that I was working the night your father called. I heard Miss Frances talking to him. From what I heard, the baby had died. Frances argued with your father. Said Margaret loved the baby and that she never would have hurt her.”

“What happened next?”

“Miss Frances went straight to your parents’ house. She didn’t come back until morning.”

Adrianna was grateful for the pounding hammer that forced her to pause a moment. “She knew I wasn’t my parents’ biological child?”

“Yes.”

“Did Craig know?”

“No. She never told anyone and swore me to keep quiet. I did until just now. Never even told Mr. Wells.”

“Do you think there could be something in these bins?”

“Maybe.”

“Is she buried on this land?”

“I don’t think so. Miss Frances was heartbroken over the loss of the child. She’d have wanted a proper burial for her.”

“I’ll dig through every barrel.”

“Let me help.”

Adrianna laid her hand on Marie’s and squeezed. “Thank you. But I’ve got to do this.”

“I’m here if you need my help.” She took a step back. “Let me collect Ben and leave you to your privacy.”

Adrianna waited until the two left before she started digging deeper into the bin. It took a half hour just to go through the one bin and sort trash from treasure.

She dug a red pen from her purse and wrote TRASH on the side of the empty bin. The next bin emptied would say KEEP. “This is going to take forever.”

But just knowing Frances might have information locked in one of these barrels about Baby Adrianna gave her the resolve to keep digging.

A lungful of dust from the third bin had her coughing as she pried the lid off. This bin was filled with baby clothes. Made of soft yellows and pinks, the clothes looked to be about twenty-five or thirty years old and were suited more for a girl than a boy. Gingerly, she picked up a sleeper and held it in her hands. Her heart constricted and for a moment tears threatened as she thought about the baby she’d carried and lost.

These must have been Baby Adrianna’s clothes. She rubbed her fingers over a sleeper still downy soft and stained with milk.

Adrianna swiped a tear away and sat back on her heels. For months she’d been trying to get information out of her mother about the baby. Good Lord, could the answer really be on the estate?

Adrianna carefully placed the clothes in the
KEEP
box and set her sights on the next bin. Anxiety churned in her stomach as she peeled the next lid off. But the next bin was stuffed full of yellowed newspapers, dating back to the thirties. Under the papers were molded books.

The next barrel latch proved to be stubborn. She gave it a hard shove but her hand slipped and her nail caught on the rim. It tore to the quick. “Damn.”