Kathleen Long - Silent Warning

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.”

The woman on the other end of the phone let out an exasperated sigh.

“I know it’s a tall order,” Dan said. “But I need a list of your employees whose first names start with ‘S’. Someone left me a message and I couldn’t make out what they said. It’s urgent I reach whoever it was.” He mentally crossed his fingers. If the woman bought his version of the truth, she just might help.

“You do know it’s after hours and I’m the last one here,” she replied. “I was just locking up. Why don’t you call back tomorrow?”

Dan glanced at his watch. Five forty-five. He had to get going to meet Kelly at the chamber. The last thing he wanted was for her to be alone with Miller without him close by.