The Attic on Queen Street (Tradd Street #7)

“Except there’s no such thing as coincidence,” I said, turning my head before belatedly remembering that Jack wasn’t there.

The pungent aroma of Vanilla Musk suffused the room, but Veronica and Thomas didn’t seem to notice. I casually looked around the room, but as usual I saw no sign of Adrienne. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt Adrienne move behind me in what seemed to be a protective gesture. The thought made my nerve endings tingle, all senses on alert as I tried to figure out what she was attempting to protect me from.

Thomas continued. “I also checked with the college. Lauren’s transcripts have never been requested by any company where she might have sought employment.”

“So, what does that mean?” Veronica asked.

“Well, if she had some kind of employment record, we could at least track her movements, see if they correspond to the letters her parents have been receiving over the years,” Thomas explained. “We’ve run her Social Security number, and there haven’t been any hits since her job at the college bookstore while she was in school here.”

“Which means she’s purposefully off the grid,” Veronica said.

“Or dead.” Neither Veronica nor Thomas looked at me when I spoke, their thoughts mirroring my own.

“I’ll keep digging,” Thomas said. “Either the fingerprint is our biggest lead or it means nothing at all. I’m afraid we won’t know for sure unless we can locate Lauren and interview her.”

I coughed, my throat suddenly tight. I tried to swallow and rubbed my neck the way I rubbed General Lee’s when giving him one of his pills to make it go down. The sensation of invisible fingers encircling my neck brought me to my feet, coughing. A strong whiff of Vanilla Musk drifted past me as the choke hold abruptly disappeared, leaving me rubbing the skin, trying to erase the icy-cold impression of ten invisible fingers wrapped around my neck.

“Are you all right?” Veronica jumped up and came to my side.

“I think so. Could I have a glass of water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

She left the room, leaving Thomas and me alone. “Was it the same person who attacked you in your garden?” he asked.

“I have no idea—it could be. But it’s definitely not Adrienne. She’s trying to protect me from whoever has taken a pretty intense dislike to me.”

Veronica entered, carrying a glass of water. I took it and drank it in big gulps, trying to erase the burning sensation inside my throat.

“Should we call Jayne?” Thomas asked.

Veronica and I both looked at him.

“Because I know you two do best when you work together,” he quickly added.

“Right. I don’t think that’s necessary. But I’ll let you fill her in. You still have her number?”

“It might still be in my phone.” He didn’t bother to look, and I was careful to hide my smile.

His phone rang, and after glancing at the screen, he excused himself and stepped out into the hallway to take the call. After a moment, he popped back in. “I have to go. I’ll let you both know if I find out anything else.”

We walked back out into the foyer, the saws in a temporary lull as the workmen worked in another part of the house, the smell of paint and pinewood hanging thick in the air.

Thomas stopped at the door. “Oh, before I forget: As I was leaving your office, one of your coworkers gave me a Tupperware container full of homemade brownies. She said she and her kids had made them for you, and when I told her I was looking for you, she asked me to give them to you when I found you. I didn’t catch her name, but she was very well put together. Very energetic.”

“Catherine Jimenez,” I said. “She’s amazing.” I actually sounded like I meant it. “While she was baking, she probably also made two new sales.” I hoped the bitterness didn’t come through in my tone.

“Well, they’re in my car if you’d like me to get them for you.”

I waved my hand at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t think of it,” I said, trying to be the new version of Melanie while also knowing that those brownies were all I would be able to think about. “She brings me baked goods all the time, so enjoy.”

“Thank you. I will.”

He reached for the door handle just as a flash of red from the stairwell caught our attention. I spotted the object first and slowly climbed the stairs to the landing to hold it up for Veronica and Thomas. “It’s Adrienne’s pillow. It was in my bedroom last time I looked.”

I put my hand on the banister to head back down the stairs, but my phone beeped with a text, making me pause. Tucking the pillow under my arm, I pulled out my phone and read the screen. The sensation of icy water dripping down my back made me shudder.

“It’s from that number—the pay phone at Buist Rivers.”

Thomas took a step forward. “What does it say?”

With a hesitant thumb, I clicked to open the text and read it out loud. “?‘Now you know what it feels like.’?”

I looked up and met Veronica’s gaze. Before I could say anything, a sudden shove from behind threw me against the wall, then sent me tumbling down the stairs headfirst. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the tinny noise of distant music that sounded a lot like “O Superman.”





CHAPTER 18



At the sound of tapping on my bedroom door, I quickly shut my laptop and slid it under the covers before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opened and Jack appeared carrying a breakfast tray that contained a very large and steaming cup of coffee and, less exciting, a bowl of oatmeal. He was followed closely by Nola, wearing her Ashley Hall uniform and carrying a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like doughnuts. She clutched the bag to her chest as Jack settled the tray over my lap. He leaned over me, and I closed my eyes, anticipating at least a kiss on the forehead. Instead, I felt my laptop being slid out from beneath the covers. My eyes popped open to see Jack holding up my computer while sending me one of his signature raised-eyebrow looks of reproach.