A smile tweaked the edges of Colleen’s lips. “What am I looking for?”
“Read them with a clear, unbiased eye and let me know what you think.”
The interest glittering in her gaze suggested she’d be late getting to her own work today. “Now you’ve peaked my curiosity.”
Rachel folded her arms over her chest. “Good.”
The woman’s scream shattered the silence, startling the smug smile on the well-lined face. “You did what?”
Baby hated that tone of voice. What should have been a simple announcement had soured into trouble. “I gave the letters to Rachel Wainwright. She is the perfect person to use them. Since that Margaret woman hit her on television everyone knows Rachel. She wants to reopen the case, so she is the perfect person to deliver the letters to the police.”
“Assuming she does.”
“She will. They will help her client. And when the cops announce they have the letters, he will get worried.”
“I don’t want him to worry.” The woman cursed and pounded deeply lined fists. “Why would you betray me?”
Baby sighed, already weary of this discussion. “I haven’t betrayed you. I’m on your side. I always will be.”
“You took my letters.”
“They tell the world that Annie had a lover. They might not ever be able to prove who the lover was but it will make him nervous. It will make him squirm.”
“I don’t want him to suffer.”
“Of course you do. He’s not been a faithful servant. I’ve heard you cry over him too many nights.”
“That doesn’t mean I want him punished.” Silence made the air thick. “I want Jeb Jones to die in prison with the world believing he killed Annie.”
“And likely that will happen. Jeb is running out of time. But in the interim, our faithless friend can suffer and wonder.” Baby had lost patience with him when Dixie Simmons had wagged her pert ass through Nashville as if she were proud of the affair. Was there no depth to how low he’d stoop?
“I hate this.” Wrinkled hands curled into fists. “I want my letters back.”
This conversation was pointless. “You are not mentioned in the letters. I don’t see the problem.”
“No, of course not!”
“Then why are you worried?”
A weary face. “Stop talking so much. I don’t want to hear any more of your chatter. Get the letters back.”
Baby pouted, feeling as if the tribute laid at the feet of the master had been rejected. “If you really feel that way.”
“I do! Get the letters back.”
Baby’s hackles rose. “It won’t be easy getting them back.”
“I don’t care if you have to kill that attorney. Get those letters back, you stupid twit!”
Anger roiled. “Don’t call me stupid.”
“I call it like it is. You think taking care of Dixie makes you in charge, but don’t forget I’ve been at this a lot longer than you.”
Anger oozed in Baby like liquid iron.
“Now get those letters back.”
November 4
Sugar,
You still mad? You know I only have eyes for you. You are my man. Forget the bartender’s attention. I get lots of men hanging around begging for what I’ll never give ’em. I am yours, lock, stock, and barrel. Come by late tonight and I’ll show you how good real love feels.
A.
Chapter Six
Saturday, October 15, 3 PM
With Bill Dawson still avoiding her calls, Rachel shifted focus to Annie’s former roommates, Joanne Stevens and Beth Drexler. If anyone might have known about a secret lover, the roommates would know.
The two women had attended Vanderbilt University. Beth had been in the biology department while Joanne majored in music. Both women had graduated in the spring after Annie’s death.
Rachel wasn’t able to track Beth but was able to locate Joanne Stevens, who was now married to a doctor and living in Franklin, a small affluent town west of Nashville.
Rachel climbed in her ten-year-old Toyota and drove out I-40 to Franklin. Thirty minutes later she found the three-story brick house located at the end of a tree-lined cul-de-sac. Manicured lawns, flower beds full of blossoms, even a picket fence. The house had all the trappings of the ideal life. She’d dreamed of a house like this when she’d been a kid. She’d wondered what it would be like to have an address for more than six months, to have a yard, a bike, and lasting friends.
Rachel parked in front of the house, climbed out of her car and straightened her skirt. She ran fingers through her hair and wished she’d taken time to touch up her makeup as she glanced up at the brick house.
Feeling a bit intimidated and irritated that she was nervous, she walked to the large wooden front door, her heels clicking on the brick sidewalk.
She rang the bell, tightening her grip on her briefcase. Beyond the door there was silence and then the sound of steady, unhurried footsteps.
The door opened to a tall, slim woman in her early fifties. She wore simple dark pants and a silk blouse, which likely would have set Rachel back three months’ pay. Dark hair swept over straight shoulders, a strand of pearls encircled a slim white neck, and a gold watch winked from her wrist. Understated money.
A quick sweep of the woman’s assessing gaze had Rachel feeling as if she came up short. “Ms. Wainwright?”
“Mrs. Stevens. Thank you for seeing me.” She extended a hand more aware of her callouses as she shook Mrs. Stevens’s smooth manicured hand.
Keen eyes searched her face. “I saw you on the news the other night.”
“I made a splash.”
A slight smile tweaked the edges of her mouth. “A bit of drama always has a way of catching the media’s eye. Why don’t you come in?”
Rachel stepped into the marbled hallway, daring a glance up at a crystal chandelier that reflected a thousand points of light. Mrs. Stevens moved from the foyer into a room on the right decorated with whites and grays. Rachel wiped her feet before stepping onto the carpet and taking the seat that Mrs. Stevens indicated.
Rachel sunk into a plush couch as Mrs. Stevens took a seat at her diagonal. A large portrait hanging over the fireplace featured Mrs. Stevens wearing a lush full wedding dress. Time had been kind to Joanne Stevens who still looked remarkably as she had on her wedding day.
“I was surprised you called,” she said as she crossed her legs at her ankles.
“I’m trying to learn as much about Annie Rivers Dawson as I can and you were one of her closest friends.”
She shifted as she folded her hands and placed them in her lap. “We were roommates. I’m not sure if I’d say we were friends.”