Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel (19 page)

She shook her head, “I doubt I’ll be here that long. I appreciate the offer, though.”

He made a show of looking at his watch, then gave her a peck on the cheek and said, “I’ve got to get going. I’m late to the office.”

There was something off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. His eyes darted around the room, swept the floor. She asked, "Call me later?"

He rocked back on his heels and nodded. "Drink up, now. Milk is good for you."

She held up the chocolate milk in a salute. "Thanks for everything."

He blew her a kiss just before he stepped out of the room, and she took a deep breath. The scent of him still hovered in the room. Fresh, clean. Like a mountain morning. She took another drink of chocolate milk and smiled at his thoughtfulness. He'd acted so oddly though.

Probably nervous that someone would recognize him and tell his wife he'd been to visit her.

Within the hour, Dana arrived and promptly announced that she would stay throughout the day, in spite of Andi's protests. Shortly after she arrived, she said, “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I did want to get together and talk about wedding plans. Didn’t you get my message yesterday morning?”

Andi pushed herself up in the bed. “No. I went exploring.”

“Really? With him?” Dana's lips pressed into a tight line.

Andi's head dropped back into the soft pillow. “Yes. But no judgments, please. I just can’t do that right now.”

“Fine. No judgments.”

The nurse returned with a small glass bottle on a stainless steel tray. She nodded to Andi. "It's time for the next round of Antizol."

Dana moved to Andi's side and squeezed her hand. Together they watched the nurse as she readied the medicine and inserted the needle into the clear IV bag hanging from the metal post above Andi's head. Dana's face paled as she watched the nurse empty the syringe.

Andi asked, "Is that for the poison?"

The nurse nodded as she finished the injection, then she dropped the used syringe in the red sharps container next to the sink. "Someone'll be in shortly to draw blood again. We'll see how your counts are and then the doctor will decide what happens next."

Dana filled the cup on the plastic tray table with water from the pitcher and handed it to Andi, who sipped the cool liquid. Dana walked around the room. She rearranged the pitcher and cup on the tray table, threw away the empty bottle of chocolate milk, then straightened the blanket at the foot of Andi's bed.

Andi raised her eyebrows as she watched her friend. "What's on your mind?"

Dana shook her head. "Nothing that can't wait."

"Spill it."

Dana grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Anyway, I started to tell you that Derek and I picked up our wedding rings yesterday. So, we decided we don’t want to wait. Can you get away next weekend? Assuming the doc says you’re okay to go?”

Her friend's enthusiasm was catching. “Next weekend? Did I hear you right?”

Dana beamed. “Yup! Edward has offered to pay for my way and my maid of honor’s way. How can you turn that down, my maid of honor?”

Andi laughed weakly as relief flooded through her. She couldn't afford a trip to the mainland, much less a trip to Atlantic City. Edward's generosity overwhelmed her. "Write down the details so I don't forget anything in this drugged haze."

They decided to meet for lunch one day to finalize things, because Dana had about a dozen brochures for weddings at different casinos and couldn’t decide which she wanted. As she told about her day with Derek, Andi's mind began to wander to her afternoon with Paul.

And then she wondered why he'd acted so oddly when he'd visited.

What was he doing in the closet?

The doctor came in just then, and Dana cocked an eyebrow. Dr. Cavanaugh's head nearly touched the top of the door and his shoulders were wide like a football player, with dark hair and a dark complexion. He stood inches from the bed, reviewing the medical chart. After a moment, he looked down at her, with dark brown eyes framed by long dark lashes. “I'm concerned with your numbers. Your electrolytes are still low, but it looks like we caught the poisoning in time."

Andi cocked her head to one side. "In time?"

"Before permanent kidney damage." Dr. Cavanaugh examined the monitor beside her bed. "How’re you feeling now?”

“Better.”

“Good. I’m going to move you to a private room and give you at least one more Antizole treatment by IV, and want to keep flushing the fluids through you.” He flipped pages back and forth, and frowned. “Looks like you’ve had a rough life, Mrs. Adams.”

She swallowed hard, and focused on keeping her countenance neutral. “Sorry?”

“Your X-rays. Looks like you’ve had a couple of fractured ribs, and your arms have had several hairline fractures.”

D
ana sat up straighter, but Andi kept her focus on the handsome doctor and shrugged, “Not that I recall.”

He nodded but his eyebrows pushed into a deep V. "Well then, you must be quite accident prone. You'll be moved shortly, and the remaining treatments should go well. It's too soon to say, but it looks like the Antizol is doing the trick."

Andi gulped. "Let's hope it works."

After he left, Dana leaned close and whispered, "He wasn't wearing a wedding band."

Andi noticed, too, but she responded with a shrug. The edges of the room began to soften, thanks to the pain medication. Should she give up on Paul? Would anyone else be interested in her? Handsome, successful Paul. When she closed her eyes, she could imagine them leading the perfect life.

She let herself drift away.

"Andi!"

Andi blinked slowly and tried to focus on her friend's green eyes. "What?"

"You were talking in your sleep, crying almost."

With effort, Andi opened her mouth and licked her lips. Her tongue felt too big, and she felt deliciously relaxed.

"The injuries. Chad did that to you, didn't he?" Dana didn't wait for a reply. She moved next to the bed, her forehead furrowed with concern. "Why didn't you leave him?"

Andi shrugged. "Couldn't. Never would've let me go. If only I'd been a better wife--"

"That's bullshit."

With effort, Andi opened her eyes. "Could've done better. Should've done better."

"You're so much better than that." Dana shook her head. "You don't even see it. You don't need a man."

Andi's head bobbed. "But I do. Happier, more complete." Her tongue filled her mouth, making it difficult to speak.

Dana sighed and turned away. "I've got to get going. I'll check in with you later."

"Don't leave like this." Andi tilted her head and smiled at her friend. "Please."

"Get some rest. I'll talk to you later." Dana opened the door and looked back. "Call if you need anything."

After her friend left, Andi drifted off. Sleep was uninterrupted by dreams and she felt rested when the nurse opened the blinds the next morning. By late morning, she felt better and the handsome doctor ordered another round of blood tests. Shortly after a lunch of hospital Jell-O and a smuggled cheeseburger (thanks to Dana), he announced that her numbers weren't as good as he'd hoped.

He frowned as he looked at the terminal screen. "This doesn't make sense. Your numbers should be lower than this if we're correct that your exposure was nearly 24 hours ago."

Andi caught her lower lip with her teeth, then ventured, "What does that mean?"

He shook his head and twin furrows appeared in his forehead. "It means that we need to continue the Antizol. I don't want you eating or drinking anything unless you are absolutely sure of the source."

By the next morning, her numbers had improved. To her delight, her doctor ordered the removal of the IV and catheter and released her with strict instructions to drink a lot of water -- and nothing else.

Dana drove her home and worried over Andi like a mother hen. After many assurances that she would be fine, Dana left her alone to rest. The truth of the matter was that Paul hadn’t called as he promised, and Andi was afraid of what that might mean. After she engaged the deadbolt, she trudged up the steps, put her hand on the doorknob to her room and froze. Their bedroom door was never shut. The doorknob turned in her hand with a squeak, loud in the empty house. She glanced over her shoulder, and stared into the shadows. After a moment's hesitation, she laughed at herself and pushed the door open. She crawled into bed, alone and exhausted.

As she laid there staring at the ceiling, the reality of her situation began to sink in. She'd been poisoned. How? And she needed a job.

Maybe she could wait to get a job after things were settled with Paul. They'd probably move anyway, to get away from Caren, so there was no sense in looking for a job here.

Earlier that evening, the real estate agent called to say another couple was coming to look at the house. She'd lost her job. She had no credit cards. The detective thought she was a murdered and, more importantly, so did someone else. Just as she was about to give up and take a sleeping pill, the phone rang. She hesitated, but the ringing continued. She couldn’t stand to not answer in case it was Paul.

As she feared, she was greeted by the blackmailer's voice. “I know what happened that night. Time is running out. The old man is dying, and I need those documents before he dies . . . and I swear to God, I’ll give the police everything they need to put you away for the rest of your life.”

A chill ran down her spine. “What documents are you talking about?”

“The deed and the stock certificates.”

“What? What deed? What certificates?”

He huffed. “The stock certificates.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about! What stock certificates?”

The line went dead, and she wondered what this man thought she had. All she had in her possession was a bunch of poor photocopies. But how could she convince him of that?

She pushed the blackmailer out of her mind. She'd been unhappy for so long, and the doctor's reference to her old injuries brought all that frustration and fear back to the surface. She'd wasted so much time with Chad. Maybe Dana was right. Maybe she should've left him. But being alone wasn't an option. She couldn't imagine life as a single woman, widow or otherwise.

On a whim, she punched in Paul's phone number, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. The phone rang twice, then a woman answered, her voice melodic and smooth. There was a man in the background, but it wasn’t clear enough to be sure if it was Paul or not. The woman said hello again, then hung up.

Andi was so frustrated.

She needed Paul.

Caren didn’t.

S
he woke up shortly after four in the morning, unable to sleep. After hours of restlessness tossing and turning, she finally rolled out of bed. She dragged herself to the bedroom and took a long, hot shower. It felt good, with the soothing water rushing over her body. After her shower, she popped another pain pill then went to the bedroom to get dressed and noticed the red message light blinking on the answering machine.

It was that voice again. She listened to the message, and then listened again, to see if she recognized the caller. She didn’t, so she listened yet again.

“I know what really happened.”

Damn
.

She dropped onto the bed. What the hell was she going to do? And why did that voice sound so familiar? Something about the way he said “know," clipped off.

A noise downstairs piqued her attention, so she went to the door to listen. Everything was quiet, but she slipped into her clothes and went downstairs to check things out. A car pulled out of the driveway, tires crunching in the gravel, but was gone by the time she got to the living room window. She ran to the door and opened it, hoping to get a look at the vehicle. Her bare foot landed on a big white envelope that slid on the polished wood floor, and her arms cartwheeled in an awkward attempt to keep her balance. She succeeded, but barely, and glanced around to see if anyone was watching.

Mrs. Harrison stood at the edge of her driveway, a newspaper gripped in one hand. She fluttered her fingers in a wave. Andi waved back, then scooped up the envelope and ducked inside.

The block print on the envelope simply said Mrs. Adams. She slipped her thumb under the flap and opened it. Inside was a glossy 8 x 10, grainy, black and white. It was a rainy night on a dark road. A man and woman stood on the shoulder next to a dark-colored SUV.

The photo fell to the floor, and she was right behind it.

The room spun around her, her breath came in short gasps. The rug had been pulled out from under her. She blinked and swallowed hard, covered in a cold sweat. Goosebumps pebbled her arms and she rubbed them vigorously, trying to warm up and get some sense of reality.

Dear God, someone out there really
did
know what happened.

She wheezed, struggling to suck in air. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the dizziness got worse and images flashed through her mind of that stormy night. The room spun and she fought to maintain control. Her mind raced and she struggled to be rational. It was her only hope if she wanted to survive.

Who would have been out there on a night like that? And even if someone happened to be out there, who would have a camera? Thoughts swirled like a tornado and she forced herself to look at the picture analytically. The photo was black and white, grainy, as if it had been taken from a distance with a telephoto lens. The only light that night had been from the moon.

She picked up the photo and examined it. Neither of the faces were clear by any stretch of the imagination, but the license plate was readable. A road sign in the background was visible, 2 miles to the Clifftop. It wouldn’t take a huge leap to figure out who was in that photo. She flipped it over and looked at the back. Kodak paper, but that could be purchased anywhere. The quality of the print was good, but with home printers these days, it could have been printed anywhere.

Sweat beaded on her brow. Her heart thumped so loud against her ribcage, it took a moment for her to realize the telephone was ringing. She stared at the hall table where the telephone sat, then just before the machine picked up, she crawled forward and snatched the handset off the base.

“Hey, girl! You sound out of breath. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Dana’s cheerful voice greeted her.

Andi sagged against the wall, “No, no, not at all. I was just coming in from outside and ran for the phone.”

“Outside?” She was probably looking at her watch. “You know it’s only a little after 8, right?”

Andi laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “Guess I was feeling productive today. What’s up?”

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but better." She repeated, "What's up?"

Dana puffed out a breath. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve decided where we’re staying while we’re in Atlantic City. Want to hear now, or want to wait until lunch?”

Andi clutched the photo in her fist. No one could learn about this. The fact that she was all alone in the world hit her like a ton of bricks. Even her best friend couldn’t understand the gravity of what she'd done. It had been an accident. At least, that's what she'd told herself. But looking at the images in black and white made her wonder.

Her friend's voice jolted Andi out of her head, “Hey! If you want to wait, it’s no biggie!”

Andi shook herself, and squeezed her eyes closed, but the images from that night swam on her eyelids like the projection of a movie, “No, I absolutely want to hear now. What’s the plan?”

“We’re staying at the Tropicana! Woo-hoo! Doesn’t that sound awesome? They’ve got a bunch of packages, so I want you to help me pick out which wedding we’re going to have. Want to meet at the Black Sails at noon?”

Her enthusiasm coaxed a smile from Andi. “See you there.”

“See ya!”

Andi hung up and looked down at the photo clutched in her hand. Dana's excitement was contagious. Starting a new chapter in life had that effect on folks. As Andi looked around at the heavy traditional furniture and dark walls that Chad picked out, she thought that perhaps the time had come for her to do the same.

Maybe Paul would want a change of scenery, too, after finding out about Caren. Missouri wouldn’t be bad. That would be a change of scenery, that’s for sure, and her mother would be thrilled. Before she could think about that step, though, the blackmailer had to be dealt with. She tapped the edge of the photo against her leg and chewed on her lower lip.

The phone rang again and Andi snatched up the receiver, thinking it was Dana calling to tell me another wedding detail. It wasn’t.

“My patience is wearing thin.”

She was torn between fear and frustration. She demanded angrily, “Who is this?”

This time she got a response. The slow voice said, “Do you like the picture I left for you?”

“Who are you?” Her voice rose with tension.

Silence hummed over the line, so she repeated the question. Still, silence. She heaved a sigh. “What do you want? Tell me what you want, specifically, and I’ll get it for you, or leave me the hell alone!”

“Ahhh, now you’re getting the picture.” Slow laughter followed, which gave her goosebumps. “Chad had the coordinates, an unrecorded deed and stock certificates. I want them. You have no right to them.”

No right? Anger flared. “Chad was my husband!”

The voice remained calm, but smug. “So you admit your wrongdoing?”

“I admit nothing. This conversation is over.” But she couldn’t bring herself to hang up the phone. Her knuckles whitened and her heart raced so fast it hurt.

“It’s not over. Not yet. But I’ll let you have your fun first. Go to A.C., have a good time. We’ll take care of business when you get home." He paused and she heard faint breathing. "You’d just better hope the old man doesn’t die before you get back, or the cops’ll be waiting for you to land.”

Click.

She stared at the phone and shivered as a chill ran up her spine.