Kathleen Long - Silent Warning

“An opiate.”

Kelly’s mouth went dry. A time-released opiate. Dan’s explanation bounced around her brain. “Could they tell the specific type?”

“We didn’t request additional tests. What difference would it make?”

“I understand. I’m sorry, I—”

“The police did say one more thing.” His words cut her short.

“Yes?” She straightened, holding her breath.

“They thought it might be something called Oxygesic. Apparently it’s real popular up in those parts.”

Early the next morning, Kelly leaned her full weight against the smooth shower tiles, letting the steaming water pelt the small of her back. She rolled her head from the left to the right then back again to ease the knot of tension in her shoulders.

Oxygesic. She’d never heard the word before yesterday and now it was all she thought of. That and Dan Steele’s breathtaking blue eyes. Those two things had haunted her dreams, the little that she’d slept.

She’d spent several restless hours realizing she might have been too quick to believe Dan’s story. After all, he was a complete stranger, even if he’d been a friend of Rachel’s. Yes, he’d piqued her curiosity where Rachel’s death was concerned, but from now on, she’d be more cautious in following his lead.

Kelly straightened, letting the water run over the top of her head. The man might have a sound reason for wondering how Rachel and his sister had died, but Kelly didn’t know him well enough to trust him, and she didn’t plan to.

She’d once trusted her ex-fiancé, Brian, with all of her heart. What a lesson that had been.

Brian had entered her life like a knight in shining armor. Her parents had died in a small plane crash during one of their European jaunts. Kelly and Brian had been colleagues at a large Philadelphia advertising agency, and his kind, concerned manner had been most welcome in her time of emotional need. Hell, she’d clung to him like a love-starved puppy. He and Rachel had become all she had.

Two years later, she’d learned every move he’d made had been carefully choreographed to achieve his goal of a vice president’s slot. In the end, he’d broken Kelly’s heart, cost her a career and reputation, and taught her trust was an attribute highly over-rated.

Kelly had been falsely accused of trading corporate secrets, and Brian had been hailed for his role in exposing her. Rachel had exploited the story for a front-page byline.

A knock sounded out front just as Kelly finished drying off her hair. She shook off the old hurt, anchored a towel around herself and rushed to open the door. An express envelope sat wedged against the screen.

Pushing the door closed behind her, she dropped onto the sofa to open the envelope. The key sat taped and folded inside a note from Jane. Happy hunting, was all she’d written.

A chuckle slipped from Kelly’s lips, and she shook her head. Hunting was right, but she wasn’t so sure how happy she and Dan would be when they found their answers.

DAN STOOD on the deck, staring at the angry morning ocean. Storm coming, he thought. His mind wandered to Rachel and Diane. Did they have anything in common other than the way they died?

Guilt welled from deep inside him. Maybe if he’d been more available to his sister he could have prevented her death. All he could do now was continue his search for the truth about how she’d really died.

As for Rachel, had his quest for the truth pushed her into harm’s way? His gut said yes—most definitely yes—but one thing was for certain, she’d grabbed on to the story like a pit bull, as determined as he had been to find answers.

Rachel’s desirability had stemmed from the fact she was a reporter. Once Dan had discovered that, he’d manipulated her investigative nature to draw her interest to Oxygesic. They’d briefly shared a physical relationship, but neither had had any interest in taking things further.

Kelly’s image flashed through his mind. So much like Rachel and yet, so not like Rachel. The pull of attraction tugged at him, but he fought it. He’d slipped last night when he’d felt concern for her. As intriguing as he found the woman, he needed her for her ties to Rachel, nothing more. She was his one possibility to make a breakthrough on this investigation—his one hope at finding something that would convince Jake to go after Miller.

He glanced at his watch. Nine-fifteen. Time to find out what treasures her post-office key held.

DAN PULLED THE CAR into the gravel lot of the post office. Stones flew as he brought the car to an abrupt stop.

“Her brother said it was some kind of opiate.” Kelly sat in the passenger seat, scrutinizing the key in her palm.

Dan glanced at the small, brass object, wondering what answers would be unlocked by the tiny sliver of metal. “Oxygesic?”

Kelly nodded. “He didn’t know that for sure. The family didn’t request more specific testing.”

He gripped the steering wheel, struggling to control the frustration and anger he’d fought to keep in check ever since he’d learned of Rachel’s death. “And that doesn’t seem a bit convenient to you?”

“Convenient?” Kelly met his glare, curiosity shimmering in her brown gaze.

Sudden heat licked low and heavy in Dan’s belly. He shoved the unwanted sensation away, retraining his focus on the mystery he so desperately needed to solve. “That she died with the very drug in her system she’d been investigating.” He cut the ignition, reaching for the door.

“What if it’s a coincidence?”

The uncertainty in Kelly’s voice stopped him cold. He needed her with him on this if they were to find the proof he needed. “You don’t believe me?”

Their gazes locked. Kelly held her ground, but didn’t answer.

He pushed again. “What does your gut tell you?”

Kelly shifted in her seat. “My gut says something’s up.” She spoke the words softly, yet surely.

“Exactly.” Dan opened the driver’s door and nodded to the key now clasped in her fist. “Let’s go.”

“WHAT’S THE NUMBER on the key?” Dan approached the first row of post-office boxes.

“Four-three-six.” Kelly ran her fingers over the metal squares. Two-twenty… Two-sixty-seven. She tipped her head. “This way.”

Dan followed her into a dark corner of the post office. Sand grit beneath her sneakers, and she slipped as they rounded the last row of boxes.

“Help you folks?” A middle-aged woman leaned over the service counter.

Dan stole a quick glance in her direction. “No thanks. We’re good.” He leaned close to Kelly, dropping his voice to a whisper. “She must be new. I’ve never seen her before.”

His breath brushed against Kelly’s cheek, and a whisper of awareness danced down her spine. She stood still for a moment, shocked by the effect of his nearness on her senses.

He turned away, resuming his scan of the box numbers. “Found it.”

His gruff tone snapped her back to reality. She stepped to where he waited and handed him the key. Dan slipped the tiny object into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicked, and their gazes met.

Kelly’s heart lurched in her throat. The now familiar determination fired from the depths of Dan’s eyes. It was a determination she couldn’t help but admire, even though the look rang chillingly familiar to her memories of Brian.

Dan swung the small metal door open then reached for the stack of waiting envelopes. Kelly held her breath, not knowing what she expected him to find. It wasn’t as if the killer would have mailed Rachel a signed confession—would he? A small spiral notebook appeared as Dan lifted the pile. Butterfly stickers covered the red cover.

“Jackpot.” Kelly reached past him to pluck the notebook from the box, gripping it tightly in her shaking hand.