Share No Secrets (16 page)

Lucas stared quizzically at her, then said calmly, “Will you please slow down and explain to me what this camera has to do with anything?”

“You’re too excited, Mom. I’ll tell it.” Skye sounded remarkably mature and composed. She stood by her mother, holding tightly to Brandon’s leash. “When we were at the Belle yesterday morning, Brandon was running around in the woods and I was chasing him. Mom said she thought she saw someone—not me—hanging around in the woods. So she took photographs.”

“Why?” Lucas asked.

“Because she believed the person might be a thief and she would have gotten a picture of him so you could identify him and catch him. I didn’t really see anyone, but I felt like someone was in the woods, too.”

Adrienne stepped in. “After we found Julianna, I thought I might have gotten a picture not of a vandal but of her murderer. I was taking the camera to Photo Finish when I was mugged. I think the mugger was after my camera.”

“Because the mugger was the killer,” Skye added unnecessarily.

“You believe that same person raided the Hamilton house last night when they didn’t find the camera in your purse?” Lucas asked.

“Yes. And before or afterward, he searched my house. Since my house wasn’t robbed, it makes perfect sense.”

Lucas nodded slowly. “Yes, it does.” He reached out. “I’ll take that camera and get the film developed. It’s not safe for you to have possession of this any longer.”

Adrienne handed him the camera. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it yesterday. I was so rattled after we found Julianna.”

“I didn’t think you were trying to withhold evidence,” Lucas said with a smile. “But you surely got yourself in trouble by not giving it to me yesterday morning.”

“I doubt if whoever killed Julianna would have known if I
had
given you the camera unless he was still watching me. But I feel better having it out of my possession.” Adrienne cast a gloomy look at her house. “I guess I’d better go in and see how much damage has been done.”

The floribunda bushes on either side of her front door looked radiant in the morning sun. Adrienne drew in their strong, sweet scent as if it could fortify her. The thought of a stranger pawing through the contents of her home made her feel even more violated than the attack last night.

She stepped inside and found that entering her own home felt like an assault on her vision after spending time in Vicky’s subdued house. The living room contained an explosion of yellow, rose, ripe peach, and blue furnishings—some modern, some antiques, some makeshift creations of her own like the coffee table with a huge block of amber glass for a top and faux books for sides. Cushions now lay on the floor. Drawers hung open, their contents spilled. Magazines and books lay in heaps and a potted plant had been turned over, leaving dirt on the carpet. The room was a mess, but nothing appeared to have been broken. The same was true of the kitchen and dining room, but it was only the contents of one room that brought panic to Adrienne’s heart. Her studio.

She dashed down the hall to the mid-sized bedroom with corner windows she’d converted into her workroom. She expected to see a catastrophe. Instead, a studio easel stood near the windows holding a fresh canvas she’d just stretched and primed, intending to use for her painting of la Belle Rivière. The oil painting she planned to show at the French Art Colony Summer Gala sat on another easel beside the wall. It had been there for two weeks, drying, and to her great relief, it hadn’t been defaced. On a long worktable, all her tubes of oil paint were still arranged in neat lines. There was no sign that someone besides herself had been in the room except the open worktable drawers and a sketch of Skye that lay on the floor undamaged.

“Someone could have had a heyday in here,” Lucas remarked. “Apparently your intruder was an art lover.”

“Thank goodness. I couldn’t possibly replace the painting by the wall in time for the gala, and I had my heart set on using it.” She peered at it more closely to make sure the uninvited guest hadn’t been tempted to leave some little sign of his presence in oil paint. He hadn’t.

Slightly comforted, Adrienne headed from the studio to her own bedroom. At the doorway she stopped, her heart sinking. This room had not been treated as gently as the studio.

A small chair nearly blocked the doorway. Lucas moved it out of the way and said, “I haven’t checked this room yet. Better let me go in first.”

“No one is hiding in there.” Adrienne glanced at the sun-washed room and filmy curtains wafting in the breeze coming through an open window. “If someone was still around this morning, he would have gone out the window when the police arrived.”

She stepped into the room and looked around. All the drawers of her oak dresser had been pulled out and the contents dumped. Underwear, nightgowns, panty hose, and socks lay everywhere. The bed had been stripped of the spread and sheets, and the mattress and box spring pushed off the frame. Shoes and boxes from her closet had been flung around the room almost as if the intruder had gone into a frenzy of frustration.

“I hope you didn’t have anything valuable in here,” Lucas said.

“Luckily, my extensive collections of jewels and furs are stored in vaults,” Adrienne murmured, trying to sound light although she was more disturbed by the chaos in front of her than she cared to admit.

She walked slowly to the dresser whose top was bare. Her small jewelry box and silver-backed brush and mirror set given to her by her mother had been swept off the top. The mirror was broken and beside the pieces of glass lay more glass from her shattered cologne bottle. A strong wave of tuberose scent hit her when she drew near.

“So much for the money I spent on a new cologne this week,” she said drearily. “Money wasted, although I’m glad I didn’t spring for actual perfume.”

“The damage could have been much worse than a broken mirror and a bottle of cologne,” Lucas reminded her.

“You’re right. I should be grateful—”

At that moment, Adrienne looked up from the mess on the floor. Her expression froze and Lucas followed her gaze. On the big mirror above the dresser had been scrawled a message in red:

“Oh, my God,” Adrienne gasped. “Is that written in blood?”

Lucas walked toward it, then peered closely. She noticed he was careful not to touch the dresser top or the mirror. Finally, he said, “It’s not blood. It’s waxy.”

Adrienne crept closer to him, never removing her gaze from the message. Then she recognized the color. “It’s lipstick. Persian Red. I left it on the dresser.”

Lucas backed away from the dresser and looked around. “I don’t see the tube. Are you sure it’s your lipstick?”

“Yes. The color was too bright for me in natural light, but the case was pretty so I left it standing on the dresser.”

“The tube could be here in this mess.”

Adrienne turned to him. “Lucas, you act like the only important thing is finding the lipstick. Hasn’t the message sunk in yet?”

“’Leave or Die.’ Pretty melodramatic. I think it’s meant to scare you, not actually warn you.”

“I’m glad you can be so sanguine about it!”

“When you use words like
sanguine,
you’re mad,” Lucas said mildly. “I’m not taking the message lightly, Adrienne. I’m just not panicking over it. And neither should you.”

“Of course not. It’s par for the course to come home and find death threats scrawled on my mirror. What the hell am I getting so shook up about?”

Lucas put his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. “Do you have faith that I know what I’m doing as a cop?”

“You know I do. But—”

“No buts. This
could
be a threat. But my instincts tell me that if someone really wanted to harm you, they would have done a lot of damage to this house. Whoever searched the place was almost careful until they got to this room, where I figure they fell into a temper fit for not finding anything. And that message sounds like something a kid would write.”

“So you think all of this is just nothing.”

“I didn’t say that.” He glanced around, his eyes clearly focused inward, and finally said, “I think you and Skye should stay at Vicky’s for a few days. Just in case.”

“So we wouldn’t be alone
just in case
we’re in danger? Well, that won’t work. Philip and Vicky are leaving tomorrow morning on a campaign trip. Only Rachel would be there, and if I’m a target, I don’t think Vicky would appreciate my aiming danger her daughter’s way. Besides, their house was broken into, as well.”

“Because the alarm system wasn’t on. You don’t even have an alarm system.”

“I’ll have one installed today”

“Adrienne, you might not be able to get one today,” Lucas said. “If you’re determined to stay away from Rachel to keep her out of harm’s way, then you should just leave Point Pleasant.”

“Leave Point Pleasant? Where I have a teaching job? A job I
need?
A job I could lose for good if I just walk out?”

“You’re only teaching two classes in summer school.”

“Nevertheless, the classes have started. If it was just a matter of my being gone for a few days, missing each class even two times wouldn’t be so bad. But you don’t know when you’ll find Julianna’s killer. It could be weeks. I
can’t
be gone that long, Lucas.” He was still scowling, but she’d felt she had to dig in her heels on this issue. Her teaching position was absolutely necessary for the livelihood of her and her daughter. She took a deep breath and spoke with a pretense of confidence. “Besides, even if the murderer isn’t in the photos I took, he can’t go on thinking I saw him and have just decided not to tell on him.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Because he knows I’d be afraid of him. He’d know I’d want him locked up. After a few days of silence from me, he’ll have to realize he has nothing to fear from me.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime you’ll use your considerable influence as sheriff to insist a security company install an alarm system today. Skye and I will be extra careful. I won’t let her out of my sight, which will drive her nuts but make me feel better. Rachel will be safe in her house, Skye and I will be safe in our house, and all this trouble will die down.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Adrienne,” Lucas said slowly. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

She stiffened, wanting to clap her hands over her ears like a child but forcing herself to listen. “What is it?”

“Claude Duncan died in a fire last night. That’s why I didn’t come to the hospital when I heard about your attack. I was at his place. It was awful. The cottage went up like a torch, Adrienne, and I’d bet my life it was no accident.”

The smell of charred wood hung over the rubble like a low-lying cloud, befouling the clean morning air. A shroud of ashes dulled the colors of the nearby shrubbery and flowers, and the remaining grass around the burn site lay flattened and drenched by the fire hoses that had unsuccessfully tried to quench the fire that had devoured the caretaker’s cabin.

Drew Delaney couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He drew in air that felt as if it were singeing the inside of his nose and brought tears to his eyes. Even his meager breakfast of toast and coffee rolled in his stomach as he thought of the man that had met his end in this inferno.

Claude Duncan.

One of the town’s losers. One of the town’s human jokes.

Drew remembered being seventeen and speeding away from la Belle Rivière in his uncle’s silver Corvette on a steaming summer day. He’d felt hot, he’d felt cool, he’d felt on top of the world because that night he had a date with Adrienne, in his opinion the prettiest girl in town, and he was taking her out in the Corvette. Yeah, it had been shaping up to be one fine day.

Then he’d spotted a lanky boy with stringy hair trudging down the road. Drew recognized him instantly. Claude Duncan, the manager’s son. He was around eleven, thin, stringy, and hunch-shouldered as if drained of every bit of joy and confidence. Almost without realizing what he was doing, Drew had stopped beside him. “Hey, Claude, where’re you going?”

Claude had jumped and said nervously, “I’m not up to anything bad. Honest.”

Drew had laughed. “I didn’t say you were. I just asked where you’re going. You look like a guy in need of a ride.”

“Oh. I do? I mean, I am. I’m goin’ to the drugstore for my mom. She’s sick and Dad’s too busy to pick up the refill of her medicine.”

Drew had stared at the boy. The drugstore was four miles away. His father expected him to walk eight miles round trip in this heat? Probably. Mr. Duncan was a first-class jerk in Drew’s opinion. “How about a ride?”

“A ride?” Claude had looked at the Corvette as if it were some kind of fabulous space vehicle. “In
this?”

“Sure. Hop in. I’ll get you to the drugstore in no time.”

Claude had gingerly gotten in the car and gazed around him with wide eyes. “This is the coolest car I’ve ever seen, Mr. Delaney,” he’d said in awed tones. “Is it yours?”

“No, my uncle’s. But I’ll have one like it someday soon. And my name’s Drew. I’m way too young to be called Mr. Delaney.”