Debra Webb - Dark Whispers

“With all that happened this morning, I suppose I forgot.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Like I said, I didn’t go back in the house after the police left. I couldn’t.”

He handed the keys back to her, placed a hand at the small of her back and ushered her across the threshold. He surveyed the entry hall. The ceiling soared high above a grand balcony on the second floor. A large painting hung on the broad expanse of wall that flanked the ornate staircase. He recognized Natalie as a child of around ten or twelve in the painting.

“My family,” she said, following his gaze. “My parents are both gone now. There’s my younger sister, April, and my older brother, Heath. Heath runs the family business and April is a trophy wife who specializes in fund-raising.” She said the last with something less than pride as she placed her purse and keys on a table near the door. “The kitchen is on the right at the end of the hall. That’s where...it happened.”

Clint hesitated, the sticky notes on the mirror above the hall table snagging his attention. There were several yellow notes and one pink one. Leave the keys and your purse here. Lock the door. Arm the security system. The pink note read Check the peephole before opening the door.

“I don’t need them as much as I used to,” she said with a noticeable resignation in her tone. “My short-term memory gets better every day.” She locked the door. “It’s certain parts of my long-term memory that still have a few too many holes.”

He gestured to the notes. “This was part of the process of getting back into your normal routine?”

She nodded. “I’m not sure anything about my routine will ever be called normal again, but I manage.”

“I imagine the journey has been a challenging one.” Clint moved toward the kitchen. “Back at the office you said your sister spent a great deal of time helping you get back on your feet?”

“She stayed with me every night for the first year. When she wasn’t with me there was a nurse.” A weary sigh escaped her lips. “For ten months I was fine on my own, and then...the voices started. April stays the night whenever I need her despite my brother-in-law’s insistence that he needs his wife at home.”

“Your brother-in-law is...?”

“David Keating, the son of Birmingham’s new mayor, who sees himself as governor one day. He’s running for state representative and insists that April should be at his side at all times. You haven’t seen the billboards plastered all over the city? Vote for Truth and Family Values.” Natalie shook her head. “Personally, I believe he’s worried that I’m losing my mind and he doesn’t want his wife too close to anything unpleasant that might end up attached to his name in the news.” She paused. “Sorry. I’m being unkind. In truth, David has been very thoughtful since the fall. Forgive me if I’m a little too blunt at times.”

“No apology necessary. Do you and your siblings get along?”

“As well as any I suppose.” Her heels clicked on the marble floor as they continued toward the kitchen. “Five years ago, after our father died, I think people expected there to be dissention, but we all felt the terms of the will were remarkably well thought out. Heath inherited the family business, which made perfect sense since he was the only one with any interest in overseeing it. He was Father’s right hand. I inherited the house and April was endowed with the largest portion of the family financial trust. Father was well aware of my younger sister’s love of spending. The trust pays out slowly over her life so there’s no fear of her ever being destitute in the event her marriage to David doesn’t work out.”

They reached the wide arched entrance to the kitchen and Clint paused. “You’re an attorney?”

She stared at the sleek tile floor. “I was. It remains to be seen if I will be again. I feel more like an assistant now. Two years ago I was up for partner at Brenner, Rosen and Taylor. I would have been the youngest partner in the firm’s history. Most of the past two years I’ve been on extended disability leave. I returned to work a few weeks ago. I review other people’s cases to see if we’re doing all we can for each client. I’m certain the partners fear that giving me a case of my own at this point would be premature, perhaps even detrimental to the firm’s reputation. After what happened this morning, who can blame them?”

Her work history was impressive. Brenner, Rosen and Taylor was a small but very prestigious law firm. “Why don’t you walk me through exactly what happened this morning.”

Natalie drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I was preparing to go to the office. The security system was apparently unarmed. I could’ve sworn I set it before I went to bed, but evidently I didn’t.” She sighed and rubbed at her temple as if a headache had begun there. “I still forget things sometimes and get things out of order, but those instances rarely happen anymore—at least that’s what I thought.”

“What time did you get up?” Clint moved to the back door. According to the police report, Natalie believed the alleged intruder entered the kitchen through the door leading from the gardens and patio since it had been standing open. All other entry points had been locked when the police arrived, seemingly confirming her allegation. Clint opened the door and crouched down to have a look at the lock and the knob.

“At six,” she said in answer to his question. “I remember because the grandfather clock in the entry hall started to chime the hour. It’s a habit of mine to count the chimes.” She looked away as if the admission embarrassed her. “I’ve done it since I was a child.”

Clint smiled, hoping to help her relax. “I count buttons. Whenever I button my shirt, I count.”

Her strained expression softened a bit at his confession. “I guess we all have our eccentricities.”

Focusing on his examination of the door, he saw no indication of forced entry. Back at the office, he’d sent a text to Lori Wells requesting a copy of the police report. A quick perusal of the report she’d immediately emailed him had showed the same findings. Clint hadn’t really expected to find anything. Still, a second look never hurt. He pushed to his feet. “You were upstairs when you heard an intruder?”

She nodded. “I was dressed and ready to go when I heard a noise down here.”

“Describe the noise for me.”

She considered the question for a moment. “There was a lot of banging as if whoever was down here was searching for something.”

The evidence techs had dusted for prints, but hadn’t found any usable ones except Natalie’s, which meant the intruder wore gloves and that she had a very dedicated and thorough cleaning staff. Most surfaces in any home were littered with prints. “You came down the stairs,” Clint prompted.

“First I came to the landing. I thought maybe Suzanna, my housekeeper, had arrived early.” She hugged her arms around herself as if the memories stole the warmth from her body. “I saw him standing at the bottom of the stairs, but I couldn’t see his entire face. He was wearing a mask. Like a ski mask where all you can see are the eyes and across the bridge of the nose. I ran back to my room and grabbed my cell phone and my father’s handgun from the nightstand. When I came down the stairs I didn’t see him anymore. The back door was open so I assumed he’d fled.” She took a deep breath. “I came into the kitchen to close the door and suddenly I heard him breathing...behind me. It was as if he’d been waiting for me to come.”

“Did he touch you?”

She shook her head. “I spun around and fired the weapon.”

Clint closed and locked the back door. “You’re certain the intruder was male.”