Silent Warning. Kathleen Long
could use a new brochure every now and then to boost business, do you?”
She turned toward Dan in time to see the lines of his profile sharpen. “Might be worth a shot.” He jerked a thumb toward the colorful notebook still sitting on her lap. “Anything?”
Kelly flipped through the blank pages. “Not much. Just one word on the last page.” She fanned the sheets. “And it looks like several pages are missing.”
“What’s the word?”
“Shakespeare.”
“Shakespeare?” He grimaced, shooting a glance at Kelly. “Was she a big fan?”
“No.” Kelly shook her head. “She couldn’t stand him.”
She stared at the word then flipped the notebook closed. Disappointment eased through her. She’d hoped the notebook would hold more than one word. At least they had the pharmacy board lead.
“Do you think ‘S’ could be Shakespeare?” she asked.
“I’ll call and find out.” Dan pulled into the driveway of Rachel’s house and cut the engine. “I’ll meet you at the chamber at six. Miller shouldn’t see us together.”
Kelly gathered the mail and the notebook and hesitated as she climbed out of the small car. Tension still filled the space between them, but the fact he’d accepted her idea had shifted something intangible between them. “Thanks.”
He nodded, averting his gaze from her face. “I’ll see what I can find out about our friend Shakespeare.”
She climbed to the top of the steps, pausing to watch as his car pulled away. What had Rachel gotten herself into? Whatever it was, Kelly had a sinking feeling it had gotten her killed.
DAN SAT staring through the car windshield at the Sunset Assisted Living complex. Lilac mums lined the sidewalk and hunter-green shutters framed spotless windows. The sun reflected off the bright white vinyl siding.
The building looked so calm on the outside. Orderly and neat. Nothing like the inside where minds and bodies failed—some slowly, some quickly.
His mother had been a resident for almost a year, since her dementia had worsened to the point where she needed round-the-clock care. She seemed content here, though. As content as could be expected.
Dan sat for a moment, letting his thoughts trace back over his conversation with Kelly. He shouldn’t have mentioned Diane’s birthday when they passed the cemetery. He wasn’t a fan of sharing personal details, let alone details that hinted at weakness. Kelly and her questions had somehow burrowed beneath his skin like an itch he had no intention of scratching. He’d have to be more careful when he saw her again tonight.
Dan’s stomach tightened at the thought, but he shook it off, refocusing on the building waiting before him. He pulled the key from the ignition and climbed from the small car, slamming the door shut before heading for the entrance.
“How are you doing, Dolores?”
The strawberry-blonde sitting at the reception desk looked up, flashing a warm smile as Dan pushed through the glass doors. “Pretty good, Mr. Steele. How ’bout you?”
“Can’t complain.” Liar. “Is she down in activities?”
The young woman glanced at the clock on the wall. “Should be.”
“Thanks.”
A long walk later, he found his mother sitting in a wingback chair facing a window. The familiar ache pulled at his heart. She deserved so much more.
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,