Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel

Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel Page 24

by Lori L. Robinett

  They waited on the tarmac for what seemed like an inordinately long period of time before the plane taxied to the gate, though her watch said it was only twenty minutes. Finally, they disembarked.

  Andi stopped in front of a television with a group of travelers and watched the images on the screen, the smoke, the fire, the horror. The graphic on the screen indicated that a Destination Airways plane traveling from Philadelphia to Orlando had crashed just minutes after takeoff.

  Andi closed her eyes and fought back the tears. They were flying to L.A., via Atlanta. Thank God it wasn’t their flight.

  A thick woman with a shock of gray hair blew her nose, then glanced over at Andi and apologized.

  “Quite all right,” Andi murmured as she turned her attention back to the screen.

  “All those people,” the woman mumbled as she blew her nose again. “They didn’t have a chance.”

  “Do they know what happened?” The images on the screen brought back so many memories of panic, terror. That fear was reflected in the faces of those around her as they watched anxiously.

  The older woman shrugged, “I heard them say the flight was delayed due to mechanical problems. The pilot had time to radio for help and turn the plane around, but that was about it. Sounds like it dropped from the sky like a rock.”

  Andi’s phone vibrated in her hand. Dana’s voice crackled through the static. “Oh, God! Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”

  “Yes!” Andi spun away from the clump of people and held her finger in her other ear so she could hear better, “And you? You okay?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  She pressed the phone tighter to her ear, “Just got into Hancock County. Where are you?”

  “Still in Philadelphia. Our flight was grounded before we even boarded.”

  Dana told her they’d been watching MSNBC at the airport. Since it was a Destinations Airway flight, that whole terminal was a madhouse in Philadelphia. Andi thought about her luggage, then felt in her purse for Dana’s keys. She’d planned to take Dana’s car home for her. She was glad she didn’t have to get on another airplane now - or wait for a delayed flight.

  Andi said, “Go back to the hotel and wait until it’s safe to fly. Maybe you can get on another airline.”

  Dana laughed, but it sounded forced. “You’re reading my mind.”

  The two promised to touch base later and Andi stuck her phone back in her purse, as she hurried to her friend’s car.

  Andi just wanted to get home. Suddenly, having to deal with a cancelled credit card didn’t seem like the end of the world.

  She listened to the radio on her drive home. Every channel carried the same thing, news of the crash. The stories coming in were horrendous. No survivors had been found, and the authorities didn’t sound hopeful. She glanced up at the sky. Not a single jet trail crossed the clear blue sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d noticed that.

  The next morning she flipped on Good Morning, America, where the crash was the leading story. She had a hard time watching the screen, listening to the reporters, and reading the scroll across the bottom, given how close this had hit. If Dana had been on that plane … Suddenly, she blinked and moved closer to the screen as she waited for the scroll to repeat.

  When it finally did, she clapped her hand over her mouth as she read. A spokesman for Woodson Enterprises confirmed that August Woodson’s eldest granddaughter, Caren Woodson Thompson, was on Destination Airlines Flight 121.

  She watched until it ran again, and made sure she was reading it correctly, then rocked back on her heels.

  Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

  40

  Andi snatched up the phone and dialed Paul’s number. She got his machine, and left a brief message that she’d just heard the news, and told him to call if he needed anything. She didn’t leave her name, and didn’t expect a return call, but at least he’d know she was thinking about him.

  How was it possible that she could be so connected to the Woodson family without even knowing it? Was it a coincidence that she was falling for the man married to the sister of the woman her dead husband had been sleeping with? Things like that didn’t happen in real life.

  During the next few days, she watched the news trying to catch clips about Caren Woodson Thompson. She thought about calling Paul again, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wasn’t sure how he fit into all this. She was torn. Part of her was angry, because he surely knew about her husband’s affair with his sister-in-law, but another part of her was relieved he was free of his wife. She would never, ever, have wished the woman dead, but she was relieved, just the same. After he grieved, they could date properly. They would come out of this just fine, and no one would ever know that they’d had an affair.

  Later that morning, a couple stopped by to look at the house. They walked through, commenting about tiny cracks in the walls, small rooms and the lack of an open floor plan. Andi escorted them out and watched through the window as they huddled together on the front walk. The man turned around and rang the doorbell.

  When she opened the door, he grinned. “My wife and I agree - this is exactly what we’re looking for. We’ll give you your asking price!”

  Her heart dropped and she swallowed hard. “You’ll have to contact Gabby Martin, the agent.” She pointed to the real estate sign, then shut the door on the happy couple.

  She couldn’t put off getting a place of her own any longer. She got in the Jeep and drove around, looking for For Sale signs. On a whim, she stopped at Bunch o’ Blooms and ordered a small plant and picked out a sympathy card. She signed it “thinking of you – Andi,” and made arrangements to have it delivered to Paul’s home. Her next stop was Martin Real Estate. The woman had been polite about bringing customers by to view the house and, after all, the situation wasn’t her fault.

  Gabby drove Andi around in her white Cadillac to show her several nice houses around town, most little salt block houses. The prices shocked Andi. Until the insurance money came through, she couldn’t hope to own anything in Buccaneer Bay proper. None of the houses really did anything for her, either. Gabby showed her quaint houses, which Andi suspected was because she was a single woman. The agent likely assumed a widow wouldn’t need much space, but Andi couldn’t fathom a future of living alone.

  After the sixth house, the agent sighed and said, “I just can’t think of anything else in town that might work.”

  “Okay,” Andi countered, “How about outside of town?”

  The woman nodded and thought for a moment, “You know, there is a very nice little cottage just outside of town.”

  “North or South?”

  “South.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Andi nodded, “Let’s go.”

  She couldn’t help but look as they passed Paul’s house. His Jeep sat in the driveway, next to a silver Lexus and a dark green Lincoln Navigator. Gabby kept going for a couple of miles, then turned right onto a narrow blacktop road. They rounded a curve and topped a rise and Andi’s eyes widened when she spotted a cute little cottage. The white one story with sea foam green shutters had an unattached two-car garage to the rear of the house. A covered porch ran the length of the house, and flower beds filled with a rainbow of plants made it look homey. Andi knew this was her new home before she even looked inside.

  As soon as Gabby dropped Andi off at her Jeep, Andi ran calculations in her head and headed for Harbor Regional Bank.

  The loan officer who helped her with the Grand Cherokee loan asked her to fill out a loan application before he took her back to his office. She waited nervously while he reviewed the application, and entered numbers into his computer. He tapped his pencil against the desk and mumbled under his breath. He stared at the screen, then at the application. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  Finally
, he looked up from his screen. “How much do you plan to put down on this house?”

  Her stomach lurched. “I don’t have anything to put down.”

  “Are you waiting for your current house to sell? Because if you are—”

  She shook her head. “I’m not. My husband had the house in a trust, and I’m not … ” Her voice trailed off when she recognized the pity in his gaze.

  He shook his head and stroked his moustache. “And you do not have a job at this time?”

  She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “No, sir.”

  His eyebrows rose and he asked, “Do you have any leads on jobs?”

  “No.” She shrugged, “But I’ve been busy and haven’t really looked yet.”

  He blinked several times, then barked out a laugh. “And how exactly do you intend to make a mortgage payment with no job?” He clamped his mouth closed and nodded, tilted his head back as he frowned at the screen again and clicked his mouse. “I can take this to our loan committee, but I’m not making any promises. You should hear from me next week if your loan is accepted.”

  She hated feeling powerless. “What would improve the chances of acceptance?”

  His eyebrows crept up his forehead and he leaned forward. “Get a job.”

  She left the bank and drove around town, thinking. She needed a real job, not a part time gig like the Chamber of Commerce, but she had no experience and no college degree. What if she didn’t get the loan? She didn’t have enough to buy the place outright. Her mother didn’t have enough money to loan, and neither did Dana. Perhaps Paul? Given his family connections, he had access to a lot of money, but she hadn’t spoken to him since she’d gotten back from Atlantic City, and didn’t know if he would loan her anything anyway.

  And then she remembered the documents in the gun cabinet.

  Could they be turned into cash?

  41

  She returned home, and felt her stomach drop when she saw the bright red sold banner atop the For Sale sign in the yard. How long would she have before she was out on the street? Andi put her key in the lock and the door swung open. Shards of the glass vase sparkled on the foyer floor like glitter and flowers were scattered across the tile. She stepped inside carefully, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. The grandfather clock ticked softly, but she didn’t hear anything else. She picked up the phone in the kitchen and dialed 9-1-1.

  The operator immediately instructed Andi to get out of the house. She hurried outside, taking the phone with her. Mrs. Harrison pretended to water her flowers, until Andi waved and hollered across, “Mind if I wait with you? Someone broke into my house!”

  Mrs. Harrison’s hand fluttered at her chest. “Oh, dear! You know, Mike Fielding’s house was broken into and he had a heart attack.”

  Andi kept watch on her house as she walked across the lawn. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, I hadn’t heard! Is he going to be OK?”

  “Nope.” Mrs. Harrison’s head swiveled back and forth. “Died instantly. Lucky duck.”

  Andi nodded as she considered that. Was the burglar still in her house? What was he after? A robbery in broad daylight was awfully brazen. She changed the subject. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary today?”

  The older woman said, “I saw a car earlier in the day that I didn’t recognize. A dark red Toyota.”

  Andi thought about the dark sedan she’d seen pull away from the cemetery. It could have been dark red. “Was it a Corolla, by chance?”

  “You know, it could have been. It was a Honda or Toyota. You know, one of those foreign jobs that all look the same.”

  Sirens interrupted their talk. A patrol car pulled up and Andi walked out to meet the two officers with Mrs. Harrison at her heels. The first officer, a thin man who looked barely old enough to be out of high school, directed them to wait by the patrol car while they checked the house.

  Andi waited anxiously, and tuned her neighbor out as the older woman continued to make idle conversation. When the officers approached, Andi excused herself. The first officer took Andi aside, and the second, a thick man that reminded her of a bulldog, took Mrs. Harrison aside. The officer asked Andi several questions about where she’d been, how long she’d been gone, how she’d discovered the breakin, if she’d had other problems, that sort of thing.

  After he flipped is notebook closed, he said, “I want you to take inventory and make note of anything that’s missing, and you’ll want to notify your insurance company of the loss.”

  He held out his hand, indicating that she should walk with him towards the front of the patrol car, where Mrs. Harrison and the other officer were standing.

  The thick officer turned to them and consulted his notes. “Ms. Adams, your neighbor here saw a dark haired man, average build, go up your driveway earlier this afternoon. Said he was driving a dark red sedan, possibly a Honda or Toyota, with a dent in the rear on the driver’s side. Any idea who that might have been?”

  Andi shook her head, but felt apprehension rising in her. The private investigator.

  The police left, and she had a sinking feeling that would be the extent of the investigation. Mrs. Harrison invited Andi over for dinner, but she declined. She hurried home to see if anything was missing. She checked the gun cabinet in the basement first. It hadn’t been touched. She breathed a sigh of relief and went through the rest of the house, room by room. She straightened a few things, but left much of it a shambles. Perhaps the new buyers would renege when they learned that it had just been burglarized.

  The last room she checked was the den. A single piece of paper with typewritten words laid on the desk.

  “Caren’s death was hard on the old man. Put the stock certificates in a plain brown envelope in your mailbox before midnight, or you’re dead.”

  Frustration ate at her. Had the blackmailer poisoned her? What did he hope to gain by killing her? Unfettered access to her home?

  Just as she crawled into bed, her phone rang. Paul’s gravelly voice greeted her. “Hey, lover.”

  She curled her feet under her and settled back against the pillows, relieved to finally be talking to him, “Hey, yourself. How’re you holding up?”

  “Okay. I got your plant. Thanks.”

  The mere act of talking to him made her toes tingle. “Just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you.”

  His voice was taut with tension, “Are you busy?”

  She practically purred, “No. Just getting ready for bed.”

  “Can I join you?”

  She pictured his mischievous grin and missed him so much it ached. “Come on over.” She’d never been good alone. Heck, she’d never been alone. She could almost hear Dana chastising her for moving too quickly, but she squelched that voice.

  She slipped out of her cotton nightshirt and pulled on her silk robe, then freshened her makeup and brushed her hair, bent over and tousled it. She waited downstairs, and opened the door before he had a chance to ring the bell. She stared into those piercing blue eyes and felt her heart skip a beat. He stepped inside and she pushed the door shut behind him. He spun around and caught her against the door, then kissed her. A real kiss, with heat and emotion. She melted in his arms, and without another word, he led her upstairs.

  That was the first and only time they had sex, and it was incredible. Slow, gentle, perfect. His hands ran over her body as if memorizing every line and curve. No direction was needed – he knew exactly what to do to take her to the heights of ecstasy. They connected on the deepest level, and she was sure it was because he was finally free.

  The next morning she snuggled up next to him, breathing in his scent. Shame niggled at her, but she told herself his wife was gone. Her conscience wouldn’t let it go that easily, though. She pulled away and sat up, tugging the sheet around her to cover her nakedness.

  “What�
�€™s wrong?” he mumbled, reaching out for her.

  “I feel bad. Your wife just died.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder.

  He stared at her with bright, clear eyes, but wrinkles lined his face, making him look older. “I know. This is quick.”

  “I really am sorry that she died.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

  He sat up and kissed her bare shoulder, “I am, too, but it makes things much simpler. This way, I don’t have to deal with an ugly divorce.”

  She blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me your wife was one of the Woodson heiresses?”

  He shrugged, “I never wanted to make a big deal out of it.”

  “Did you know that her sister was having an affair with my husband?”

  He kneaded her shoulders, but didn’t answer. She asked again, more firmly, “Did you know?”

  He leaned close and gathered her in his arms. “Yes, I knew.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged, “What purpose would it have served? I didn’t meet you until after your husband was killed, so why dredge up bad feelings?”

  She turned to look him in the eye, “Is she a nice person? Portia, I mean.”

  “Yes. She’s kind, intelligent. Very attractive.”

  Andi felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. “That is one piece of information I did not need to know.”

  “Sorry.” He looked around the room until his eyes settled on Chad’s dresser. Two of the drawers hung half-open, with clothes spilling out of them, “Did you have a little temper tantrum in here?”

  She shook her head and told him about the break in, the jimmied door, and Mrs. Harrison’s description of the vehicle and intruder. Almost as an afterthought, she told him about the house being sold.

  After she finished her story, she shrugged. “I didn’t feel like picking everything up just so it would look good for somebody to come and buy it out from under me.”

 

‹ Prev Next ›