Seeing the word ‘Engaged’ on her profile caused a fluttery sensation in her chest. Not a superstitious person, Addie nonetheless sent a silent prayer to the universe that she hadn’t just jinxed herself somehow.
14
Thursday morning dawned bright but chilly; perfect Thanksgiving weather. Normally, Addie preferred to muck around the house, watching the Macy’s Parade from New York and leafing through the Black Friday ads. She never got to enjoy shopping the next day since opening Smiling Dog Books, but she didn’t complain. Business would be brisk. Unlike large retail outlets, Addie believed Thanksgiving should be a holiday spent with loved ones. Eating enough for a small third-world nation. Not shopping. Her store opened bright and early on Friday, and not one second before.
But not today! Today, she was tasked with saving Mrs. Henry. And herself. Friends had pretty much blown up her phone after her fake engagement announcement last night. Thankfully, Jonah hadn’t caught on. At least not yet. By the time someone spilled the beans to him, she hoped it would all be a moot point.
The man in question strode into the kitchen, Gracey and Lily prancing around his feet. He raised an eyebrow at the yogurt in her hands. “No hot breakfast today, I guess?”
“Not taking any chances.” She was thankful to have slept through the night without any nightmares. “How about you? Want some of this?” She held aloft her yogurt container.
“No, thanks. It feels like a cereal kind of morning.” He moved around the kitchen, gathering things. “What are your plans for today? I mean for before the feast?”
“Grey and I are going to spend a few hours in the shop this morning making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow.”
She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping Jonah would forgive her for the small lie. She would be there, after posting something on her shop’s social media site making sure everyone who wanted to know about it, did. Grey was at home, whipping up his family’s long held recipe for corn pudding; his addition to the already overburdened dining room table at her aunts’ home.
“The impending carb coma will prevent me from doing it tonight.” Please don’t ask if I need any help.
“In that case, I might head into work for a few hours. I want to see where we are, if anywhere, with the clues gathered so far. There’s something nudging the back of my brain, but I haven’t managed to figure it out yet.”
“Great!” she yelled, with a bit more enthusiasm than required. “Uh, I mean now I don’t have to feel guilty about working for a few hours. If you don’t mind feeding the girls, I’ll keep them home, since it’s only for a little while.”
Jonah cocked his head, looking at her intently, as though trying to piece together a riddle. “Okay, then. Shall I meet you back here, or at your aunts’ home?”
Addie shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe to stop them from shaking. She was really bad at subterfuge. “Why don’t I call you around noon, let you know?’ she offered over her shoulder as she rushed to shower.
“Okay,” came Jonah’s disembodied voice, chasing her into her bedroom.
Addie took the fastest shower ever, rushing by Jonah on her way out the door. One strong hand on her arm stopped her. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”
“Of course.” Addie kissed him, wondering if deceit held a flavor. “See you in a bit,” she called over her shoulder, not making eye contact with him as she left.
Arriving at the bookstore, Addie hustled inside, locking the door behind her and resetting the alarm. She might be taking chances but not that many. She rubbed her fingers at the dull ache in her head and remembered she’d forgotten to take coffee with her. At least she had the small machine in her office. It couldn’t create a whipped, caramel anything, but it would have to do.A moment later, the aroma of fresh coffee swirled through the air, waking her further. She sipped the first bit of the steaming liquid when a knock at the front door quickened her pulse. Addie slipped from the back room, approaching the front door with caution. A man’s back, partially blocked by the doorframe, greeted her. Wearing a coat and hat, the person was unrecognizable to her.
She took another few steps. “Hello?”
The figure turned, revealing a grinning Detective Blackwell. “Good morning, Ms. Foster. I saw your post about getting ready for tomorrow. Thought I’d come by and see how you were this morning.”
His cheerful tone and innocent words did nothing to slow the galloping of her heart. She straightened to her full height, not that it would intimidate him. “I’m fine, thanks. Just busy making the store perfect for tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by.” Her neutral tone hid the fear crawling through her.
He stepped closer, jiggling the doorknob with one hand. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“I, uh, only have a little time before Jonah and I are having dinner with my family. You understand.” She gave him a bright smile she didn’t feel and turned away. Addie resisted looking over her shoulder as she reached the storeroom, slipping inside. She picked up her abandoned coffee, the hot mug soothing to her now chilly hands, and waited. If Detective Blackwell was indeed her stalker, would her rejection of him push him far enough to act? Minutes crawled by as she waited for some sign. Maybe a brick through the window or noise at the back, employee entrance? But only silence reigned. She knew she had to leave the relative safety of the storage room eventually, so she walked out front. No one stood at the door.
She sighed and glanced around the room. Smiling Dog Books was ready for the onslaught of shoppers in the morning. Bright, shiny book covers caught her eye wherever she looked.
Now what?
Addie made her way to the stool behind the counter. She grabbed a pad of paper and pen, doodling on it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of anyone to add to the list of potential stalkers she’d given Jonah. She didn’t consider her looks stalker-worthy.
Addie swiped to her play list, and Post Modern Jukebox’s “Really Don’t Care” blasted through the silence. Swaying in time, she struggled to figure out who was making their lives miserable. Each day brought a new host of people one interacts with, from the kid bagging your groceries to strangers you passed on the streets. How could she know?
Crumbling the paper, she tossed it in her recycle bin and thought about Magnolia Haven instead. Surely, that would be easier to figure out. If she’d been there for more than ten minutes and knew any of the staff. Grinding her molars, she couldn’t shake the sensation of running out of time. While Mrs. Henry’s injury wasn’t life-threatening, neither had Mr. Hamilton’s illness been. And look how that had ended. The Aunties planned to bring their elderly friend a Thanksgiving treat for dinner, after the much anticipated feast. What if that proved too late?
Addie gathered her purse and keys, hoping the staff she’d met as ‘Mrs. Mayberry’ had the holiday off. She drove the twenty minutes to the upscale senior residence, formulating a haphazard, Hail Mary plan, and shook her head as she pulled into a parking space. She looked at the clock on her dash; not quite eleven. Plenty of time.
The chilly wind blew her hair in her face as she jogged across the lot. Although the sun shone brightly overhead, the wind had picked up, making it feel much colder than the low forties. By the time she stepped through the front door, she blew on her fingers to warm them. Mitten weather lurked right around the corner.
An older Hispanic woman smiled at her from behind the desk. First lucky break of the day. “Good morning and Happy Thanksgiving! How may I help you?” the woman asked. Her badge read “Mariella”.
“Thank you, Mariella, and same to you. I'm here to see my friend, Mrs. Henry.”
“Of course! Poor dear is recovering from a nasty spill. Just came back to us from the hospital this week, as I'm sure you know.” She pointed to an opened binder on the desk. “If you could please sign in and take one of the visitor badges, please. Mrs. Henry is temporarily staying in our medical wing while she recovers from her accident. Don’t worry, she’ll receive the best care.” Sh
e pointed to a hallway to her right. “If you proceed to the end, then take a right, room one hundred forty-four is on your left. Have a nice visit.”
Addie stared at the woman, unable to speak after hearing the room number. Just as it had been in her dream. She should be used to this by now. These crazy prophetic dreams had plagued her for months. And then she remembered she was still staring into space. “Thank you.”
Addie headed in the direction she’d been told, glancing around her as she went. During their tour of the place, the admissions coordinator had taken them a different way. This hallway appeared darker, less cheerful than the one they’d previously taken. Maybe it was her imagination, but this hallway screamed lost hope and despair. She shook her head. No point in freaking herself out already. At least not any more than she already was.
She passed a nursing station and smiled at the two women in scrubs who looked up at her from a conversation. Both nodded before looking back down at the paper one of them held. Addie kept walking, trying to ignore the goosebumps covering her arms despite the heat of the building. The further she walked, the darker the hallway seemed to grow. No fresh flowers or paintings on the walls, as she’d seen in the foyer. The gray linoleum flooring showed its age with spots here and scuff marks there. Faded wallpaper sported dreary stripes. She shook her head and kept walking, her footsteps growing more sluggish with each step.
Addie turned the corner and looked up at a sign on the wall. One hundred forty through one hundred forty-five listed for the short hallway. She glanced to the right; sure enough, even numbers lay on that side, just as the receptionist had mentioned. The hall lacked outside windows, depending on dim, overhead fixtures for any light. It may as well have been ten o’clock at night for the darkness. The only other light, faint at best, spilled from the doorway of the last room on the left. Mrs. Henry’s room. Just as it had in her dreams.
Addie glanced around her, looking for someone. Anyone. But the hall remained empty of patients, staff, or visitors. Surely on Thanksgiving, family would come to visit?
A few drops of sweat streaked down the middle of her back. She moved closer to the wall as she continued toward the last room. Her feet felt as though they were encased in cement. Picking each one up to take another step proved difficult. Keeping her eyes focused on the doorway at the end of the hall, Addie made her way toward it. The faint light grew a little brighter as she did.
The only sound was that of her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She felt in her purse for her phone, grasping it in one, clammy hand. If anything happened, she was ready to dial 9-1-1. She stopped a few feet before the opened door, pressing herself against the wall.
This is real, not a dream.
She repeated the mantra over and over in her head, working up the courage to peer into the room.
Her phone made a turkey call sound, the noise seeming to reverberate off the walls. She gasped and looked at the screen.
Well? What’s happening?
This from Grey, who took great pleasure in regularly assigning random sounds and music to her ringtones. She silenced the phone and slid it in her back pocket, holding her breath in a silent prayer that no one had heard it. Frozen in place, she waited, counting to ten in her head. When no one appeared, she crept closer to the door, now just inches away from it.
Addie ran a tongue over her dry lips, but her mouth had grown so dry, it didn’t help. Knowing she had to do something, she gathered her courage and resolve, turning into the open doorway. She gasped at the sight that awaited her. Mrs. Henry, looking ten years older than her already advanced age, lay motionless on the bed. She threw one hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp, and rushed to the bedside.
A heavy blanket covered the older woman up to her chin, making it hard to determine if she was even breathing.
“Mrs. Henry?” she called softly, loath to touch her.
Addie had no idea what to do if Mrs. Henry’s skin was cold to the touch. She leaned over her further, searching for any sign of life in her too pale face. She held her breath, praying nothing had happened to her friend, when Mrs. Henry’s eyes popped wide open. The woman’s mouth opened and closed, as though trying to say something, but no sound came out.
Addie jumped back, a startled sound erupting from her throat. She slammed up against something, and started to turn, when a voice asked, “Looking for me?”
She reached for her phone but only had time to shriek in fear before the cold metal of a needle pierced her neck. She struggled against the arms that grabbed her even as the scene faded to black. Her knees buckling was the last thing that registered.
15
Cool tile pressed against Addie’s cheek, the sensation dragging her up from the depths of sedation. She kept her eyes closed, unsure of her surroundings or the whereabouts of her attacker. Where was she?
Think!
Her mind felt hazy. Her thoughts were jumbled at best. What was wrong with her? A stinging in the back of her neck struck a chord in her memory. Someone had injected her! Who? Why?
Addie cracked her lids a smidgen, trying to see anything around her. A toilet swam into view in the dim light. She tried to bring her hands up to wipe her eyes, but they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, move. That’s when she realized her hands were tied behind her back. Some sort of cotton filled her mouth. She moved her tongue around, trying to dislodge it. Something else had been tied around her mouth, but loosely, and she dislodged it enough to spit out the cotton. Her already dry mouth now felt like the Sahara.
A lone tear dripped from her eye, sliding over her nose and dropping onto the floor. She had no idea of the time, but surely someone missed her by now. She closed her eyes and imagined the scene at the Aunties’ home. The delicious scent of roasting turkey would permeate the air. The two sisters would snipe at each other as they rushed around, making last-minute preparations. At some point, Grey would get a wooden spoon to the knuckles after trying to steal a taste. The girls would prance around under foot, ready for any morsel that happened to fall their way. And Jonah would experience his very first Foster Thanksgiving.
Jonah!
Thoughts of him brought more tears spilling from Addie’s eyes. Their first Thanksgiving together, and she was somewhere, tied up, lying on a bathroom floor. She gave into her sadness and frustration for a moment, crying silently. She then sniffed and tried to quiet her thoughts. She had to get herself out of here. Grey knew where she was, but she had no idea how much time had passed. Who knew how long he’d wait before worrying and telling Jonah?
Addie wriggled her wrists, trying to figure out what he’d used to bind them. The material scraping across her wrists felt soft, like cotton rather than rope. He probably hadn’t been prepared for her coming. Hadn’t known he’d be tying up someone. Maybe that could work in her favor. Maybe she had a little time to come up with a plan before he was forced to act. But did Mrs. Henry have that much time?
Not wanting to entertain that thought any longer, Addie bent her knees and tried to swing herself up into a sitting position. After a moment or two of this, all she accomplished was a thick coat of perspiration and the need to vomit. Whatever drug he’d used left her feeling sick to her stomach. The sudden, wild movement wasn’t helping. But neither was lying here, feeling sorry for herself. Inching her way across the floor, she pushed her bound feet against the toilet, giving her leverage to slide up the bottom of the wall. After a few minutes of this, she managed to push herself into a seated position.
Sweat poured down her face, and she tried to slow her labored breathing. She really needed to get to the gym more often. Or at all.
Now what?
Addie looked around the tiny bathroom. Was this in Mrs. Henry’s room? It must be. Whoever had attacked her wouldn’t want to risk carrying an unconscious woman around, would he? She looked around but didn’t see her purse anywhere. Where was her phone? A memory of sliding it into her pocket surfaced. She twisted her already painful arms around but couldn’t feel anything in the back pocket
of her jeans. Had it fallen when she lost consciousness? Or had her assailant grabbed it?
“Addie, are you there?” came faintly through the mostly closed bathroom door.
Mrs. Henry! She’s still alive.
“I’m here, Mrs. Henry. Give me a minute.” Spurred on by this new hope, Addie drew her booted feet under her as far as she could and pushed with all her might. She raised to a half-standing, half-crouched position, leaning heavily on the sink. Knowing time wasn’t her friend, Addie straightened to her full height and hobbled to the door. Through the dim light, she saw Mrs. Henry, still lying in the bed but head raised. One pale hand beckoned to her, signaling her to stop.
That’s when Addie heard footsteps outside the room.
He’s back!
Knowing time had run out for both of them, Addie hopped toward the door, throwing her weight against it. A loud yelp was followed by something clattering to the floor. A needle lay next to her. The door opened enough for the man to pull out his arm, and Addie slammed back against it, closing the door with him on the outside. She nudged a chair with her hip, wedging it under the doorknob. That might buy them a little time.
“Mrs. Henry, you have to help. We only have a few seconds. Do you have a phone? Call nine-one-one. Now!”
Seconds became hours as the elderly woman leaned toward the bedside table, her shaking hand reaching for the phone that sat there. Addie held her breath as she tried to grab it, but the phone clattered when she knocked it to the floor. Mrs. Henry lurched to grab it, almost toppling out of the bed.
“Stop! The last thing you need is another fall.”
“I was pushed,” came her tremulous reply.
A wave of nausea rolled over her. “Be sure to mention that to the police. Right now, we have to get to the phone.”
Addie lowered herself to the floor and scooted across it on her butt until the phone lay just behind her. Blindly reaching out, her fingers grasped the older model phone.
Angel of Death Page 10