Margaret Daley - Poisoned Secrets

*The Ladies of Sweetwater Lake

*The Ladies of Sweetwater Lake

*The Ladies of Sweetwater Lake

*The Ladies of Sweetwater Lake

*The Ladies of Sweetwater Lake

**Fostered by Love

**Fostered by Love

**Fostered by Love

Maggie shot up in bed and stared at the darkness surrounding her, trying to orient herself to the sound blasting the stillness.

A pounding at her front door propelled her from her bed. She raced from the room and in the hallway met a wall of smoke pouring from her office. She headed for the front door.

Suddenly it burst open, and Kane hurried into her apartment, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I called the fire department. Get out now.”

Maggie grabbed Kane’s arm as he passed her. “Where are you going? Aren’t you leaving, too?”

“I have to try to stop the fire.”

She couldn’t let him do it alone. “Then I’m coming with you.”

feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun. Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for over twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and participated in many sports with her students.

Beloved, if God so loved us,

we ought to also love one another.

—1 John 4:11

To the Lord, without You this wouldn’t be possible.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

Aloud thud from the apartment above made Kane McDowell flinch and sit straight up in the lounger.

“What was that?” Edwina Bacon asked, putting her teacup down on the table next to her.

Kane’s gaze riveted to the ceiling of Edwina’s place. “Maybe Henry dropped something.”

“I don’t know. He didn’t look well tonight when I saw him go upstairs. That’s the second strange sound I’ve heard coming from the apartment above. What if he fell and hurt himself?”

“You worry too much about the tenants, Edwina. Henry’s certainly capable of taking care of himself.” His words didn’t erase the worry on the elderly woman’s face. Kane pushed to his feet. “But if it will make you feel better, I’ll go upstairs and check.”

“Oh, thank you. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to someone here. Even Henry.”

“You read too many mysteries,” Kane said as he headed for the foyer of the apartment building he owned.

Kane’s leg ached as he mounted the stairs to the second floor of the converted mansion. He’d overdone it today. Covering the short distance to apartment 2A, he knocked. He waited a minute and then rang the bell. Nothing.

Henry Payne sometimes was out late. But if that were the case, then what made the crashing sound? Reluctantly Kane dug into his pocket for the master key. He fit it into the lock and turned it, but the door was already unlocked.

Alarmed, he thrust the door open, every skill he’d learned in the military activated. The overpowering odors of cigars and lemon polish assailed his nostrils. The complete chaos scattered about this usually tidy, orderly place put Kane on alert. This definitely wasn’t a heart attack. Cautiously he moved into the lighted living area, listening for any sounds coming from the rest of the apartment. Silence greeted him.

“Henry,” he called out while scanning the room where every book the man owned, which had to be hundreds, seemed to be tossed on the floor. Drawer contents littered the beige area rug, and all the cabinets were emptied. The crunch of glass beneath his feet drew his glance. The mirror over the table in the small entryway lay on the hardwood floor in shattered pieces. Probably the crash Edwina heard.

Maybe Henry’s gone.

Or maybe not.

Coveting his own privacy, Kane hated invading another’s, but it was obvious something had gone terribly wrong here. He headed down the short hallway to investigate the two bedrooms. Each one was as neat and tidy as he knew Henry to be.

Back in the living room, Kane limped toward the kitchen to check out the rest of the place. When he swung the door open, the stench of blood—something he would never forget from his time in Iraq—accosted him. The cool breeze from an open window that led to the balcony chilled the room. As Kane inched forward, the door swung closed. The sound of its swish drew his attention behind him. He froze.

On the floor in a crimson pool lay Henry, his dark eyes staring at the ceiling, his arm flung out at an odd angle, a patch of light blue fabric clutched in his hand.

Maggie Ridgeway stared at the Twin Oaks Apartments. The converted late nineteenth century mansion’s brick was painted a flesh tone, and its trim and shutters a snowy white. Three stories tall with a porch that ran almost the full length of its front, the building dominated the spacious yard with multicolored spring flowers blooming in the well-tended beds. Two massive oaks stood sentinel. A stained glass window with a pastoral scene was above the entrance, and below it were double, dark brown doors with beveled glass.

Finally!

She was here and intended to stay.

Maggie marched up the stairs to find the manager and secure the vacant apartment before someone else did. A friend she worked with at the hospital told her a vacancy in this building was rare and didn’t last long. Afraid she’d never get the opportunity, she was ready to pounce on the opening she’d been anxiously waiting several months for since moving to Seven Oaks, Kentucky.

She stepped into the spacious foyer, a wide staircase directly in front of her sweeping up to the second floor. A gleaming chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a huge round cherry table with a bouquet of expensive silk flowers in a crystal vase sat under the light, adding a splash of vivid colors to the entrance. An ornate Persian rug, predominantly navy-blue and maroon, covered the marble floor in the center, giving off a warm, cozy feeling.

Surveying the first floor, she found the door with a brass plaque with the word manager engraved on it. She covered the short distance to the apartment and rang the bell.

“She’s not home,” a child’s voice said behind her.

Maggie turned around and saw a thin boy with brown hair standing on the staircase, gripping the wooden balustrade. Her heart lurched at the sight of him. Only a few yards away. Staring into his dark eyes, she felt as though she were staring into her own. Kenny! The thought made her take a step back until she pressed up against the manager’s door.

She’d imagined meeting and talking to him for the first time. But now no words would come to mind. Emotions, held at bay, crashed down on her. Emptiness, anger, elation, all swirling around in her, made a knot form in her stomach.