In Their Shadows, page 11
“I’m not sure. Brynn had them when I left.” April did her best to make her shrug look nonchalant. “I’ll make sure to ask her tomorrow.”
“Did they come here?”
“Yeah, but they didn’t have a card or anything, so I figured it was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” The word dripped with indignation as Ramsey took one more look at the bouquet. He shook his head. “I guess there’s a lot of that going around.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just that, I feel like . . . I don’t know. That you haven’t been here mentally since you got back. Like you’re just going through the motions.”
“It’s just work stuff.” Hadn’t she used that same excuse with Carter? Had it worked?
“I didn’t know your job was that stressful.”
“It can be.”
He wasn’t satisfied, but he nodded anyway. “You sure it’s not something else?”
“Like what?”
“Brynn told me what happened earlier with your tire. Said it was slashed and you seemed to be freaking out. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not a big deal.” Not true. It was because she had gotten it fixed and had hoped he wouldn’t find out. Thanks a lot, Brynn.
Ramsey’s voice heightened with his rising frustration. He was losing patience. “If someone slashes your tire, it is a big deal, Erin.”
“I’m sorry, but why are you mad?”
“Because I feel like my wife is hiding things from me.” He was on his feet then, pacing the length of the dining room. April could only watch him quietly, trying to see how best to mitigate the situation. “She also said you were gone damn near all day. Said you wouldn’t tell her where you were going, and you left her here with Mom. I thought we agreed you were going to help out with her.”
“I did—I am,” she corrected. “Mama Edith was fine, and I just needed to run some errands. I didn’t think any of this was worth mentioning because it’s never been a problem before.”
“Don’t you think that looks weird?” Ramsey leaned against the counter, gesturing toward the hall where his mother rested in her room. “You’re out all day, won’t tell anyone where you went, and Brynn had to watch my mom. I was embarrassed, honestly. I don’t ever want anyone to feel like I’m burdening them with my mother.”
April bit back a smart-aleck comment. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said, her tone gentle. “It won’t happen again.”
“You’re not lying to me, are you, Erin? I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
Her mind flashed back to that night when he got the strange phone call. He, conveniently, hadn’t even mentioned that. “We can trust each other, right?” she asked instead. “I mean, you would tell me if there was something going on I needed to know about?”
Ramsey nodded. “Of course. I don’t have anything to hide.”
Guess they were both lying, then. But April kept that thought to herself as she rose and took both of Ramsey’s hands in hers. She squeezed, prompting him to meet her direct gaze. And with all of the conviction she could emote with a straight face, she said, “I didn’t mean to worry you about the tire. I think it was either a nail or something I ran over. And I promise to do better with Mama Edith.”
As if to prove her point, she pressed her lips to his and hoped he would be satisfied with that answer.
“I love you, Erin,” he whispered, breathless.
“I love you too.” April broke away to head to the kitchen. She needed to think and the only thing she was craving at the moment was alcohol. That would have to do.
A phone buzzed, the vibration clattering loudly on the table. April turned from the refrigerator, bottle in hand, just as Ramsey picked up her phone and looked to the screen.
“Work?” He lifted questioning eyes in her direction and held the phone up for her to see. As if she needed confirmation.
April kept her face neutral as she reached for her phone. “My supervisor,” she said with an exaggerated roll of her eye. Ramsey nodded and resumed his seat at the table while April turned to answer the call. She would have to keep it short and discreet.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe,” Carter greeted.
“Hey, I’m surprised you’re calling. It’s a little late.”
“I know, I hadn’t talked to you in a few days, so just was checking on. I miss you.”
April snuck a glance at Ramsey. He was preoccupied with his phone; at least that’s what it looked like. She really couldn’t be sure. But she knew, whether he was pretending or not, he was certainly within earshot. “Same here, but now is not really a good time. I’m having dinner.”
“Oh sorry, babe. Call me before you go to bed.”
“Of course.” And she hung up before he could pepper her with the intimacies. She took her seat back at the table and poured herself another glass of wine.
“Everything okay?” Ramsey asked.
“Everything is great, babe.”
Ramsey nodded, chewing pensively on his steak. “Work is calling kind of late, isn’t it?”
April shrugged. “Well, I work late sometimes.” Why was he acting so suspicious all of a sudden?
She didn’t eat much, but she managed to push her food around on the plate enough to appease Ramsey. After he’d cleaned the kitchen and left her alone, she slipped into his art studio. It wouldn’t be long before he came in. But Ramsey was a creature of habit. He’d shower first. About fifteen minutes. Then he’d iron his outfit for work tomorrow. He would maybe lay in bed for thirty minutes willing sleep to come but knowing it wouldn’t. Not until he painted for a few hours. Which would lead him here.
April hurried along to the privacy lock file that he kept on a bottom shelf near the window, behind paint cans and brushes stiffened with one too many uses. He kept the key on him and, having previously made a copy, April dug her own out of her pocket. She’d done this a few times because she knew what he stored in the box. But he usually kept track of the jumble of bills he stashed, so after one time, she never dared take the cash again for fear he would realize some was missing. No, this time she had another purpose in mind. She sifted past the money to the organized paperwork for Red Velvet Bistro.
Ramsey kept all of his employee documents and onboarding forms arranged alphabetically by last name. Each of their folders had their application, along with their background check, copies of identity documents, Social Security cards, and the like. April zeroed in on the person she was looking for: Ashford, Kimberly, little miss pretty hostess with the attitude problem. Who, April remembered, certainly didn’t mind flirting with the boss right in front of his wife.
April narrowed her eyes at the photocopy of the woman’s driver’s license. She wasn’t too much younger. A little makeup would do the trick. April touched her fingers to her wig. Yes, she would do just fine. Satisfied, she used her cell to take pictures of all the woman’s pertinent information. She would need it for later.
Chapter Seventeen
What the hell was she doing?
April glanced in the rearview mirror for the tenth time, her bones quivering in anguish. It was one thing to drive by the neighborhood. She’d done it too many times to count. But what she was planning to do was another thing entirely.
It would be a short visit, she promised herself, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as yet another car drove past the road. She was already farther from Columbus than she should’ve been, but thankfully Tabitha was sitting with Mama Edith. Now April had a few hours to spare.
Ms. Walsh lived across the street from the house she’d shared with Warren. They didn’t speak much after she had moved in, all things considered, but they’d been polite enough that the impromptu visit didn’t seem too outlandish. At least, April hoped. It was risky to even engage with her, but if anyone knew anything about what had, or had not, happened after April left in the middle of the night those years ago, it would be Ms. Walsh. April could only hope that enough time had passed so the older woman wouldn’t question her about her whereabouts. But not too much time where her return raised suspicion.
The muffled chime of her cell phone rang and had April glancing down in her lap. One look at the screen and she rolled her eyes. She paused then, deciding whether she wanted to answer. One ring, two rings. She really didn’t have time to talk to Carter right now. She needed to remain alert and focused. And she didn’t want to risk being distracted that she would miss her opportunity to talk to Ms. Walsh.
At the last minute, April swiped the screen to reject the call, surprised when only a few seconds later it rang again. This time, the number was blocked. She had to shake her head. That was certainly a new level of persistence, even for her husband.
She watched it ring in her hand a couple more times before she went ahead and answered it. She didn’t know why he was so insistent on speaking with her, but her curiosity outweighed her stubbornness. It must have been important.
“Hey,” she answered, intentionally keeping her voice flat and nonchalant. She was met with silence, and her face crinkled in a frown. “Hello? Carter?” April pulled the phone from her ear to eye the screen and saw the clock ticking away the seconds, indicating the call was still connected. Well, he hadn’t hung up. “Hello?” she tried again.
“Hi, how are you?”
The voice sounded muffled, as if someone was talking into their palm. April couldn’t even tell if the voice was male or female. Her frown deepened. Something about the call, about the caller, wasn’t right.
“Who is this?” She didn’t realize she was whispering.
“Is this April?” the caller repeated, followed by a weighted pause.
April’s heart felt like it had been jolted into hyperdrive with bolts of electricity. Not knowing what else to do, she hung up, half-expecting another mysterious call to follow. Thankfully, her phone remained silent. But now, her head was reeling.
The familiar PT Cruiser turned on the street and April took a steadying breath. For strength. For serenity. Or both. She’d been parked against the curb for an hour, comforted in the vibration of the engine’s dull roar as she nervously drummed her fingers on the console and watched the luminescent numbers from the dashboard tick the time away. She hoped she didn’t look too anxious as the Cruiser wheeled by and turned into the driveway.
“Ms. Walsh,” she greeted with a wave, rushing to the old woman’s side as she struggled to nudge open the heavy car door. She gripped her arm and helped her to her feet. Ms. Walsh squinted at her through her small-framed rims, the generic smile already warming her face, though the eyes showed she clearly didn’t recognize her.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” she said, patting April’s hand.
“I’m fine.” April noticed the grocery bags in the back seat and realized why it had taken her so long to get home. “Here, I can get these for you. I’ll meet you inside.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Please. I insist. It’s the least I can do for dropping by unannounced.”
Ms. Walsh looked like she wanted to object, but instead relaxed into a grateful smile. She carried only her purse as she padded into the house.
The nostalgic smell of fudge brownies and coffee beans welcomed April when she stepped through the kitchen, sitting the plastic bags on the counter. Ms. Walsh was already pulling mugs from the cabinet. “Are you thirsty, dear?”
“No, ma’am. But thank you.” April began unpacking the bags. She turned and stifled a grin when the mug of coffee was shoved in her hands anyway. “Ms. Walsh, you don’t remember me?”
The woman sipped her own drink on a stumped frown. “I’m sorry, dear. My mind’s not as good as it used to be. Half the time I can’t even remember who I am.”
April swallowed. “April.” Her biological name almost sounded foreign to her ears. She cleared her throat. “I’m April,” she tried again with a little more vigor. “I used to be your neighbor.”
Ms. Walsh nodded, but her expression remained blank. “That’s nice, dear. Have a seat. How have you been?”
“I’ve been good. Just working.” Obediently, April lowered herself in a nearby chair. She wasn’t sure how productive this visit would be with the woman’s ailing mental state. Why she’d even considered returning to the neighborhood with all of its horrid memories—well, she’d badgered herself about that during the drive over. But she’d figured it couldn’t hurt. At least it could give her something regarding her uncertainties. Which was more than she could say for Erika or anything else at this point.
“And what about your husband?” April’s body frosted with the nonchalant question. There was no way Ms. Walsh could know about Ramsey or Carter. Which meant she was referring to Warren. And the fact that she was asking meant she didn’t know, or remember, that he was dead. Or should’ve been.
“I’m . . . not married.” April decided the lie was the safest way to deflect from the topic.
“Oh, I thought you were with that big fella . . . what was his name? Started with a W or M or something. Matthew?”
April shook her head to further dispel the old lady’s accuracy. “I had a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing serious.” She couldn’t be sure if she sounded believable.
Ms. Walsh shook her head, her lips pursed in a grim frown. She looked like she wanted to delve deeper but covered her intrusive questions with an embarrassed smile. “Forgive me,” she said simply, lifting her mug to her lips. “I get confused easily. So anyway, what brings you around here, April?”
“I was in the neighborhood. Haven’t been back since I moved, and I thought it would be fun to drive by my old place.”
Ms. Walsh kicked her feet out of her baby doll flats and took another sip from her mug. “Yes, a lot has changed, that’s for sure. At one point, I thought we were gentrifying, but I think they gave up on that when they realized that most of us weren’t going anywhere.”
“You see a lot of the same people around?” April pressed.
“For the most part. Nothing too out of the ordinary.”
April started to power forward, decided she better tread lightly on the subject. “Ms. Walsh, can I have a brownie? They smell delicious.”
The comment hit the perfect chord. Ms. Walsh’s eyes nearly disappeared behind the folds of her smile as she stood and shuffled to the oven. “Of course, darling.” She reached in and pulled out a flowered plate overflowing with moist, chocolate squares. Saran Wrap kept the dessert packed tight against the plate as she brought it to the breakfast table.
April folded back the plastic and plucked one from the top of the bunch. She’d polished off two brownies, debated on a third, before she continued. “I was curious if you’d seen anybody over next door. I don’t think anyone has bought the house since I moved out.”
“No, I don’t think so. But you know, I mostly stay to myself around here. Watching the soaps and collecting dust, as my grandkids say.”
“It’s been abandoned the whole time?”
“Except for when the police were out there.”
The aftertaste of the brownie suddenly tasted like acid. April took a healthy swig of her coffee. The police? How did she not know the police had come snooping?
“Do you know what for?”
Ms. Walsh made some sort of a noise that passed between a snort and a chuckle. “No idea. But they came for a few weeks straight. Poking and prodding and whatnot. Had the cars lined up all outside. Then all of a sudden, they just stopped. Guess they found what they were looking for.”
April’s head ached with dread. That’s what she was afraid of.
Chapter Eighteen
Fear was beginning to set in. April felt it inch its way up her spine, and her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Calming down didn’t seem possible at the moment. Someone was following her.
Her eyes cut from the red light to her rearview mirror for the fifth time. The black Cadillac looked sleek like a bullet with its tinted windows. It had maintained a steady three-car distance for the past twenty minutes and it hadn’t taken April long to see it expertly dodging in and out of traffic. She recognized it as the same vehicle that had been parked outside of her house when those dreaded flowers came.
It was best to detour. Instead of heading to her original destination, April turned right toward Red Velvet Bistro. She wouldn’t tell Ramsey why she was there. That would require too much explaining. She would just make up an excuse that she’d been in the area and wanted to drop by to see him, which she was certain would suffice. He appreciated those kinds of gestures.
Just as she expected, the Cadillac eased into the restaurant behind her and maneuvered to an available parking space across the lot. April watched it for a minute. It didn’t move and in no way made a point to cut off the car, nor get out. It was clear that whoever it was didn’t seem to notice or care about discretion anymore.
She moved quickly; sliding from the car and hiking toward the building on legs that felt like bricks. Not that it mattered, but she kept her head down and pretended to be focused on the task at hand. It was another day where it was too warm to be January, and the heat was violent against her jacket and denim jeans, or maybe it was the heat of eyes bearing into her like daggers. Either way, it only amplified her panic as she quickened her pace.
It looked like the lunch rush was still pretty busy, April noticed, as she breezed into the restaurant with its dense group of patrons. A cool air tickled her slick skin in what should have felt good, but only peppered goose bumps that sent chills grating against her forearms. The hostess, Kimberly Ashford in fact, glanced up from the stand where she’d been stacking menus. April wasn’t sure but it looked like the woman’s eyes rolled just before a tight smile stretched the skin around her mouth.
“Good afternoon. Table for one?”
April caught the subtle disdain licking her words and normally, she would have called her on it. But not today. No, today she needed her husband. She needed safety. She flicked a glance through the window where the Cadillac was still waiting.
