Her Last Word(20)

Despite how it all ended between us fourteen years ago, I had loved her. She’d opened her home to me and loved me like a daughter.

She’s in what looks like a regular bed hooked up to a morphine drip. A bright-yellow kerchief covers her balding head. She smiles, but is too weak to sit up. We talk about my podcast, and she wants to be on tape. The idea of going to her grave without knowing what happened to her daughter frightens her.

I kiss her on the cheek, and then we begin.

Our family was always small. It was Aunt Audrey and my mother. Gina was an only child. As I’ve said, I had a brother who committed suicide when I was fourteen. In the days after Gina vanished, Aunt Audrey and I were united in our terror and grief for Gina. And then as the weeks passed and the cops eventually turned their questions against me, Audrey began to doubt me. Why did I have Gina’s blood on my shirt? My inability to remember frustrated her, but the breaking point came at the police lineup with Randy Hayward. When I couldn’t identify him as the attacker, she’d broken down and asked me to leave her home.

Fourteen years later, I heard she was dying. I came immediately and for weeks visited her daily. In an odd way, we are united again. When I tell her about the podcast, she smiles. She wants people to remember Gina.

“Aunt Audrey, what do you remember about that night? You said once you had a bad feeling about that day.”

“I really didn’t want you two girls to go, but it seemed silly to keep you home that night.” She traces the thin blue veins on her pale-white hand as she glances toward the tulips.

“Why?”

“Gina and I had had a terrible fight that day. You weren’t there to hear, but we had never shouted at each other like that.”

“What was the fight about?”

“I caught her talking to Randy Hayward. He was trouble, and I told her so. She laughed and said she wasn’t you and she’d be fine.”

We sit in silence for a minute.

“I woke up at midnight out of a sound sleep. I dreamed Gina had drowned. It left a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I got up. I called her phone, but she didn’t answer. She always answers. I called again. Nothing. I knew something had gone terribly wrong.”

Audrey’s last day was a gray winter morning. I was at her side listening to her breathing growing shallower with each inhale. Another fresh arrangement of white tulips arrived for her. There still was no card or note. And she never opened her eyes again so that I could show them to her. As her life slipped away, I was more determined than ever to find Gina.



CHAPTER FIVE

Friday, March 16, 2018; 11:00 a.m.

The rain had stopped, but the air remained wet and raw. Adler parked in front of the two-story frame house at the corner of Libby and Grove Avenues. The tony area was just east of the University of Richmond, and it was home to several trendy restaurants, expensive clothing boutiques, and an exclusive school for girls.

Adler saw the discreet DOGWOOD HOMES sign, climbed the front steps, and pushed through the door to find a young man sitting behind a desk. Slicked-back hair accentuated a sharp jawline. He wore a crisp white shirt but no tie. His smile clicked on. “Can I help you?”

Adler removed his badge from his breast pocket. “I’m Detective John Adler. I’m looking for Mr. Larry Jenkins.”

“That’s me. I own the company.” His brow furrowed.

“I have a question about a property you’re representing.”

“Which one are you talking about?”

He rattled off Jennifer Ralston’s address. “In Church Hill.”

“I know the address well. Ms. Ralston signed the sales agreement a few days ago. The house is supposed to go on the market in a couple of weeks. What happened?”

“Right now I want to know who has access to the property.” If Adler explained there’d been a homicide, the whole dynamic of the conversation would change. Every word would be measured and weighted. Calculated.

“I do.”

“Anyone else?”

“I know Jennifer hired a stager a couple of weeks ago. There was also a painter to touch up the kitchen and a plumber to fix the downstairs sink in the bathroom. The gardeners aren’t scheduled to come until next week. Properties like hers go quickly, and the ones that are pristine will get multiple offers above asking price.”

“She’s not been in the house long. Why sell?”

“Why not ask her?”

“I’m asking you.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why do you care what I think?”

Adler raised a brow and leaned into his personal space, waiting for an answer. He could play this cat-and-mouse game in his sleep.

Jenkins relented and released a breath. “She said she didn’t like the city. She wanted to move to the suburbs. What’s really going on here?”

Adler let the silence linger between them, reminding Jenkins he ran this show. “She was murdered last night.”

Jenkins blinked for a moment as he processed the news. He slowly stood up but kept his hands on the desk to steady himself. “This is awful. Her sister must be devastated.”

“You know Ashley Ralston?”

He rubbed his temple. “I went to high school with Ashley. We graduated the same year.” His eyes narrowed. “You look familiar. Did you go to Saint Mathew’s?”