However, she’d gone only a half a block when blue lights flashed behind her. She looked in her rearview mirror and saw a patrol car’s flashing red light.
“Damn.” With no choice, she pulled to the side of the road.
Helplessly, she watched the BMW brake at the light and then take a right on red. In seconds he was gone and a cop was standing at her door, asking for license and registration.
“Officer, there’s a car up ahead that I’m trying not to lose.”
The policeman didn’t show any expression as he glanced up Main Street. He sighed as if he were in no mood for any excuses. “Why?”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Long story. I just need to go.”
“I’ll bet.” He appeared in no rush. “What did the other driver do?”
“Do? Nothing. Not really. He just looks like someone I know and haven’t seen in a long while. I wanted to talk to him.” She smiled, hoping she didn’t sound too flaky.
Stoic features glared. “That’s why you ran the red light?”
Damn. This was going poorly. “Yes.”
“Driver’s license and registration.”
“But I really need to go.” The car had vanished around the corner.
“And I really need to see your license and registration.
Now
, please.” An uncompromising tone silenced all arguments.
Her smile widened as she dug her wallet out of her purse. She’d charmed her way out of tickets before. And she didn’t want to end up in driver’s school. “Can’t you just give me a pass this time?”
“No.”
Adrianna’s home phone was ringing when she came through the door just after nine. She dumped her keys on the entryway table and reached for the phone. For a moment, she almost didn’t answer it, thinking maybe it was better that the machine got it. After her Craig sighting and the ticket, she didn’t need any more trouble.
“Don’t be a weenie,” she muttered and before she thought twice she snapped up the phone. “Hello?”
“Adrianna? It’s Estelle.”
Relief that it wasn’t a crank quickly gave way to worry. “Is everything all right? Is Mom okay?”
“Oh, yes, she’s fine, darling. She was a bit flustered today but she didn’t give me trouble about taking her medicines. She’s sleeping like a baby now.”
Adrianna shrugged off her jacket and switched the phone to her other ear. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I was thinking about what we talked about yesterday. You know, the other baby.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I couldn’t find any old pictures in the attic. I checked every box. But then I got to thinking. You should talk to Dr. Manny Davis, not that doctor who delivered you…er, her.”
“Who’s he?”
She dropped her voice a little as if she were afraid she’d be overheard. “He was one of those general doctors. You know, they take care of all kinds of complaints.”
“A general practitioner.” She’d never heard the guy’s name.
“That’s right. Right after I started work, he and his wife lived next door. They came over and would check up on you fairly regularly. Until one day Mrs. Davis and your mom got into a fight. I remember your mom saying she could take care of you just fine. They had some angry words and Mrs. Davis stormed out. Soon after they moved out of the neighborhood.”
“They would have known Mom and Dad and the first Adrianna.”
“And they might have an idea of what happened. If my baby got into trouble, I’d sure call the doctor next door to come and have a look.”
Adrianna would have done exactly the same. “Thanks, Estelle. I’ll see if I can find Dr. Davis or his wife.”
There was no missing the worry in Estelle’s voice. “You be careful, you hear?”
“Why the worry? I’m just going to ask a couple of questions.”
“Just be careful, baby. I’ve been worrying something awful about you lately.”
“I’ll be fine.”
When Adrianna hung up, she called Information and got Dr. Manny Davis’s number and address. His office was on Monument Avenue. General practitioner. She’d left half a dozen messages for Moore and it had taken weeks for him to return her call.
This time she’d not leave any messages. This time she’d just show up and start asking questions.
Tendrils of smoke rose from Janet’s cigarette as she sat at her office desk.
Janet laid her cigarette in a crystal ashtray as she held her cell phone to her ear. When Reese Pearce answered, she said, “We’ve got a problem.”
“What?”
“Adrianna wouldn’t sell me the painting.”
“Not surprising. I don’t think she likes you very much.”
Janet bristled. Resentment burned. Adrianna had been given every advantage in life and yet she couldn’t have given Janet this one thing. Bitch.
But Janet was careful not to say that. Instead, she kept her voice even. “I’m going to try to buy the painting at the auction. And if I can’t, I’m calling the press and telling them what Craig was doing. He’ll take the fall.”
There was a long silence on the other end. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. Reese might have been hired to protect the Thorntons and Barringtons, but he also knew when to cut his losses to save himself. “I don’t want Adrianna implicated at all.”
She’d sell the bitch out if she could. But to say that to Reese risked too much. “She’ll come out of this smelling like a rose.”
“Make sure of it.” He hung up.
Janet heard the bang of a back door down the hallway. She hung up, rose from her desk, and went to the door of her office. “Is anyone there?”
There was no answer.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she moved down the darkened hallway and checked the back service door that fed into the lobby. It was unlocked.
Janet drew in a shuddered breath. She turned and standing in the shadows was a man. Her fists clenched. “Who the hell are you?”
Brett Newington stepped out of the shadows. Even white teeth flashed. “I got your call.”
Janet blew out a tense breath. “So I see.”
He moved close to her, stopping just inches away. “Said you have information about the bodies found on the Thornton land.”
“Yes. But before I tell you what I know, I want to make a deal.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts before rising again. “What kind of deal?”
“I might have a sticky PR problem, and I want a story that shifts the blame from me to Adrianna Barrington.”
Brett grinned. “Why don’t we have a drink and talk?”
“My office is this way.”
The screen turned to static. Craig turned off the television, ready and anxious for the next hunt.
“You look pretty in pink. It suits you. But your wig. It’s crooked.”
The girl glanced up at him with dazed, drugged eyes and watched helplessly as he tenderly adjusted the wig and tucked the wisps of brown hair out of sight
.
Craig had saved this tape because she had been his first. And the first time was always special.
He’d been young when he’d made this tape. The quality of the picture was awful. The lighting a mess. If he’d not been such a terrified novice, he’d not have drugged her. But he’d been afraid of the trouble she might cause. The trailer where he’d kept her hadn’t been soundproof.
But this first one had taught him so much about what he liked and wanted. This one had shown him how exciting the hunt could be.
And despite the mistakes he’d made, he’d learned. After this one he’d started building his special room. Kelly Jo and Rhonda had been to his room, but even then it wasn’t finished. Just a single, unfinished concrete room.
Now as he looked around the underground space, he felt pride. Now his special place was a suite of rooms. A bedroom. Small kitchen. Bathroom. A dining table. Down here he could keep a woman for years. No one would hear her screams. No one would find her.
“I see from the note in your backpack you’re running away from home. That’s nice that you told your mother. She shouldn’t have to worry about you. I’ll be sure to mail it.”
Her eyes drooped and she moistened her lips. “I want to go home. Please.”
“Sure. Sure. I’ll send you home.”
The gunshot shattered the silence and she slumped forward, dead.
Upstairs a door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded on the steps.
Craig shut off the tape and turned off the television, moving toward the door and closing it behind him.
As he turned the key in the deadbolt, he had to smile. Down here, no one was going to find the next one. No one.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Friday, October 6, 7:00 a.m.
Adrianna fought the butterflies in her stomach when she pushed through the front door of Dr. Davis’s office. She should have been totally focused on the auction and getting ready for tonight but instead she was here chasing yet another ghost. She moved past the waiting patients and tapped on the receptionist window.
The woman peered up at her over half glasses. “Yes?”
“I’d like to see Dr. Davis. My name is Adrianna Barrington.”
“Miss, he has a full schedule today and he’s already running behind because of an early morning emergency.”
“It’s very important.”
“I’m sure that it is. But he can’t see you today.” She glanced at a computer screen and punched a couple of keys. “He can see you on October twenty-ninth.”
“Not good.” Adrianna turned, but instead of leaving pushed through the door separating the reception area and the back office.
The nurse scrambled to her feet. “Ms. Barrington. You are not allowed back here.”
“I want to see Dr. Davis.” Raising her voice flew in the face of all she’d been taught but she couldn’t let this go. If she waited she could very well lose her nerves. “I’m not going.”
At that moment exam room two’s door opened and a distinguished white-haired man stepped out. He wore glasses. He was fit and wore khakis and a polo shirt under his white lab coat. “What’s going on?”
Adrianna faced him. “My name is Adrianna Barrington. I need to speak with you. You used to live next door to my parents.”
The slight widening of his eyes told her that he knew who she was. “It’s okay, Ms. Beemer. I have this.”
Dr. Davis pulled off his glasses and extended his hand in invitation. “Ms. Barrington, won’t you come into my office.”
The muscles bunched at the base of her spine. “Thank you.”
Seconds later she found herself sitting across from him in his small office. The shelves were packed with journals, the wall crammed full of diplomas.
“I’ll get right to it,” she said. “I want to know about Baby Adrianna.”
He frowned. “You know, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Nine months.”
He nodded. “Have you talked to your mother?”
“She’s not very helpful.”
“No, I don’t suppose she would be.”
A swell of sadness rose up in Adrianna. “No one is asking about that baby girl, and it feels wrong. Please tell me what happened to her.”
The lines in Dr. Davis’s face deepened. “Your parents had been trying for a year to get pregnant. Your mother had been especially worried that she couldn’t get pregnant. A good friend of hers had suffered with infertility for years and your mother feared she’d be in the same boat.”
“You mean Frances Thornton?” Frances often spoke about what a miracle Craig had been.
“Yes.”
The doctor seemed relieved to be talking about this now. “Your mother did get pregnant after a year of trying, and the pregnancy was textbook. No problems. The delivery was long, difficult, and your mother had a hard time. But when it was all over everyone looked and acted just fine. Mother and child went home after just four days.”
Adrianna felt a tightening in her throat. “So when did the baby die?”
“She was two months, nine days when I got the call from your father.”
“What happened?”
He glanced down, as his mind seemed to drift to the past. “It was the middle of the night when your father called me. He was in a panic. He’d been out at a business meeting and he came home to find your mother in the nursery rocking the baby. Your mother was singing, but he realized very quickly the baby was too still. When he touched her she was cold. He panicked and called us.”
Time stopped for Adrianna as she listened. The noise outside the office doors faded.
“My wife and I raced over to their house. It was February and cold as sin. Your father met me at the door and took me right upstairs to the nursery. Your mother was still sitting in the chair rocking the child.”
Adrianna understood how fragile her mother had always been. The loss of a baby must have tipped her into a dark place. “What had happened to the child?”
He wiped sweat from his brow. “I was finally able to coax the baby away from your mother. She was cold and blue. She’d stopped breathing. I tried to resuscitate her but she was dead. Your mother became hysterical, as if she’d finally realized what was happening. Your father tried to calm her but she was inconsolable. She snatched the baby up and held her close. Finally your father asked me to leave. He said he’d take care of everything. I said the police needed to be called.
“Your father begged me not to. This was a painful, private matter and they didn’t want the police taking their baby and autopsying her. He couldn’t bear the thought of his child being cut into.” He pressed a trembling hand to his temple. “It appeared like crib death. Your parents were my friends and I didn’t want to compound their pain.”
“So you just left it alone.”
“At first I did. But I couldn’t sleep that night. So I called your father a couple of days later. He said he was taking care of things. That afternoon my wife saw your mother with a baby.”
“Me?”
“Yes. She went up to your mother and asked who the baby was. Your mother said it was Adrianna. That she was all better now. My wife called me immediately. I went to your father and demanded to know what had happened. At first he didn’t tell me, told me to butt out. When I pushed, he told me he’d found another baby. Margaret had been desperate, ready to kill herself. So he’d gotten another baby to save her.”