Haunting Whispers Read online

  “Then talk to me, Audrey.”

  “About what, exactly?” Her headache returned like the sound of discordant drums. Evasion wasn’t her forte, and the words sounded insincere.

  “Tell me what happened and I’ll stop bothering you.”

  “We can talk, but please, not today.”

  Rae started to leave then turned back. Her usually full lips pursed in a tight line and a frown formed between her eyes. “If you’re afraid of someone, I’ll protect you.”

  The wave of compassion from Rae was almost palpable. Audrey wanted to tell her everything but responded with the words self-preservation demanded. “I’m sorry. I’m just not sure what happened.” Mostly true, but the accompanying guilt was relentless.

  “Okay, but this case isn’t going away. I’m already getting pressure from your boss and mine. If you do remember anything, give me a call. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” Before Audrey could insist that she didn’t need to be checked on, Rae handed her a business card and left.

  Audrey gingerly made her way into her apartment, closed the door, and looked around. Would Rae find the small one-bedroom flat quaint with its mismatched furniture and large secondhand stereo? Would she think it unusual that she didn’t own a television like most people? The absence of pictures and decorations could be off-putting. An outsider would probably interpret her stark surroundings as the sign of a boring, uncreative person. To Audrey, it was necessary for a relatively peaceful existence.

  She caressed the back of the blue-and-gray tweed sofa and thought of the day she and her mother, Nadja, bought it in a consignment shop. It had graced her mother’s loft in Montreal and spent several years in a corner of Audrey’s previous apartment before ending up here. Like a ruler on the doorframe, tiny pulls up the sides served as growth markers for their mixed-breed cat, Olga. She missed her mother and Olga, both passed on. She’d considered another pet but wasn’t sure she could handle an emotional attachment to anything at this point. Her life seemed so colorless.

  A faint beep distracted her and she followed the sound to her burgundy corduroy recliner. Reaching into the side cushion, she retrieved the cell phone she hadn’t seen for two days. Audrey despised the invention, finding it more intrusive and disrespectful than public farting.

  She flipped open the device and listened to the message. “Hey, girl, it’s Yasi.” The rhythmic sound of her best friend’s Moroccan accent made her nostalgic. It had been six months since they’d seen each other. “Did you get my last message? We’ll be in your area soon, and I’m trying to get an audience. Call me. Love you.”

  Audrey started to dial Yasi back but wasn’t sure what to say. They’d been friends since adolescence, and she knew when Audrey wasn’t being totally honest. Yasi wouldn’t accept work as a suitable excuse for not seeing her. She’d overused that one the past year anyway. But she couldn’t tell the truth.

  Her old friends, especially Yasi, accepted people with all their imperfections—people from all cultures and ethnicities, rich and poor, stable and not so. They understood that life happens and nothing ever runs smoothly. They didn’t judge. But they wouldn’t understand her need to leave the past behind and start over. It would seem like the deepest level of betrayal. As guilt settled over her, Audrey couldn’t disagree. She missed her friends yet she had to make some sacrifices. At least for the moment she had a good excuse for not returning Yasi’s call.

  She eased into the comfortable cushions of her worn sofa and clicked on the gas logs. As the chill lifted, she turned the stereo volume just loud enough to block the noise in her mind. Her body still ached with every movement. The headaches that had plagued her since the incident had slightly subsided. She intended to fill in the black holes in her memory before Rae Butler dug too deeply into her life. When she had the facts, she’d share them with Rae, maybe.

  As she flipped through her stack of bills and junk mail, she stopped at the wrinkled note Rae had pulled from the door—a plain sheet of paper with no address, probably an ad or invitation to another community gathering. She opened it and read the typewritten message, Sorry I missed you. Will try again. Her neighbors were persistent; she’d give them that. She crumpled the note and threw it on the floor with the other sale papers and trash.

  Finding nothing urgent in the remainder of her mail, Audrey stretched out and pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa over her. The headache was just bearable enough to allow rest, the music soothing enough to block distractions so she drifted to sleep.

  Stop. Audrey dismissed the internal warning and stepped around the side of the building. It was so dark. She heard a crackling sound, then fear and a sweet smell overpowered her. She turned to check behind her but a stabbing pain stopped her. The street tilted. A bolt of lightning exploded through her body. She heard the crackling noise again, felt more pain, and fell backward.

  She screamed. “No! Please!”

  *

  Drumming sounded in her ears as Audrey sat upright on the sofa, her sore body protesting the sudden movement. Her face burned and her skin was sticky with perspiration. She looked at the familiar surroundings of her apartment and relaxed only slightly. Before the snippets of the dream dissolved, she closed her eyes and reviewed each fragment.

  The piecemeal images seemed like a disjointed recollection of the event at the community center. Chills covered her body as the warning voice and accompanying fear returned. Dreams could be random pictures of something real, something imagined, or a combination. One thing was becoming clearer; someone with a stun gun assaulted her. The marks the nurse had seen and her recollection of searing pain seemed to make sense. Who would do such a thing and why? The unsettled feeling she experienced when she woke up in the hospital returned, and she moaned in frustration.

  Heavy pounding echoed through the apartment—the drumming again. She willed the noise to stop. Remnants of the dream swirled through her mind, mingling with the sound of someone calling her name from the direction of the front door. She shook her head and tried to stand. Steadying herself along the sofa, she edged slowly toward the entrance. “I’m coming,” she whispered. The woodpecker hammering continued. She threw the door open, prepared to hurl verbal abuse at the intruder, and came face to face with Rae Butler.

  “Are you okay?” The volume of Rae’s voice galloped through Audrey’s head like a stampede of wild horses. Rae scanned Audrey’s body then swept the room behind her. “I heard screaming.”

  “I don’t scream.” Audrey motioned for her to lower her voice. “Not when my head still feels like scrambled eggs.” Audrey was annoyed that Rae had come to her home without at least calling first. And if she had called, Audrey would’ve put her off or insisted they meet somewhere else, anywhere else.

  “Then you’re not alone? Because I definitely heard someone screaming in this apartment. I was about to break in your door.”

  The haze in Audrey’s head made it hard to concentrate. She looked behind her as if searching for another unannounced visitor. “I am alone, and I’d like to stay that way.” She started to close the door, but Rae blocked it open.

  “How are you feeling?”

  The genuine concern in Rae’s voice surprised her and she momentarily dropped her guard. “The headache’s better. Now I have nightmares. That’s what you heard.” God, why did I say that? That’s all Butler needed for an opening, even if her dreams had nothing to do with the assault. Stop talking.

  “Do you mind if I come in?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’m not up to entertaining.” She glanced down at the wrinkled dress pants and blouse she’d worn home the night before and groaned—obviously she looked as bad as she felt. She didn’t want Rae Butler in her apartment. People made assumptions about your life based on your home, and Audrey wasn’t ready for Detective Butler’s judgment on the state of her world.

  “If you’re not careful, I could get a complex. That’s twice you’ve refused to let me into your apartment.” Rae’s eyes flashed with mischief b
efore turning serious again. “I was hoping we could talk about your case…and your nightmares if you want.”

  God, she was persistent. “If it can wait, I’d appreciate it, Detective.”

  “Rae, the name is Rae, and it’s always best to get the facts as soon as possible. I promise not to take long.” Without waiting for an answer, Rae walked past Audrey into the living area.

  Audrey closed the door, followed Rae in, and turned off the stereo. This woman obviously didn’t understand the word no. It probably made her both annoying and quite good at her job. Rae wore brown cords, a light-green striped shirt, Durango boots, and a leather jacket. She looked like she’d stepped off the pages of a top cop magazine—the outfit and the profession suited her perfectly.

  She walked with a purposeful stride that made Audrey stare and stirred an unfamiliar feeling. She’d never seen a woman swagger so deliciously without looking totally butch. Did Rae’s confidence extend to her personal life? Audrey dismissed her wandering thoughts as a side effect of head trauma and prepared for Rae’s appraisal of her place. The feared evaluation arrived more quickly than she expected and not in the form she’d anticipated.

  “What a nice place. It feels comfortable, just like a home should. My condo looks like it was burglarized.”

  In spite of herself, Audrey chuckled, then grabbed her head with regret. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “A year. It’s not much. I call it shabby without the chic.” When Rae looked closer, she’d see the threadbare patches in the sofa cushions, ripped seams in the recliner, scratches on the coffee table, and blank walls. Audrey braced herself for the commentary to follow.

  Rae Butler regarded her as if they’d bonded over the tag-team takedown of a perp. “Me, six years. Decorating isn’t my thing. I feel like I live in a cold shoebox since…”

  In spite of her joking, Rae’s eyes looked sad. She would deliver no judgment. She seemed to accept that Audrey’s life, like her own in some way, was in a state of flux. Did Rae realize she’d revealed something personal? A tenuous connection began to emerge between them like the silky thread of a spider’s web. The formality she’d maintained slipped and she felt closer to Rae. She started to ask about the source of Rae’s sadness, but her defensive mind once again overpowered her curious heart. Her own melancholy settled back into its hiding place as she watched Rae shift into cop mode.

  Rae retrieved a notepad from her jacket pocket and referred to it before speaking. Unruly strands of auburn hair fell forward around her face and she blew at the shorter locks across her forehead. Silver slivers buried in the darker strands shone like tinsel on a Christmas tree, and Audrey childishly wanted to count each one. Rae shook her head and the tousled mop fell back in place, resting softly just above her collar. “Have you remembered anything else about yesterday?”

  Rae seamlessly transitioned from developing rapport to conducting an interview. Some officers never developed the skill and many detectives never perfected it. “Nothing helpful, I’m afraid.”

  Audrey struggled with how to say nothing without revealing anything. She wasn’t good at being purposely deceitful. It wasn’t usually necessary. She easily steered superficial conversations of daily life away from herself.

  “Well, humor me and go through what you do remember. Please.” Rae’s authoritative tone softened into a more conciliatory timbre. For a moment, Audrey lost herself in the ease with which Rae sensed her reluctance and reassured her. Then she saw it—the inevitable flash of pity.

  Her body and her pride had already taken a beating, and having Rae look at her like a victim was too much. She wasn’t anybody’s sympathy case. She wouldn’t tell Rae about the stun gun until she identified who assaulted her and why. Besides, what if this case led back to her past? She’d chosen to leave that life and couldn’t chance the two worlds colliding until she was ready…if the time ever came. “I was walking around the building and then I wasn’t.”

  Rae’s eyes momentarily sparked with interest. Audrey imagined she’d inadvertently revealed something significant, until she realized the reason for Rae’s expression. Her face was simply alight with the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline high associated with risky situations. Rae thought she was going to tell her everything. She’d heard about cops who competed for dangerous calls and chased bad guys for that well-known drug. Maybe Rae was one of those adrenaline junkies.

  Audrey cleared her throat to regain Rae’s attention. If she knew how much her facial expressions showed, she’d try harder to conceal them. “So you’re still convinced that I was assaulted?” Audrey asked.

  “It’s more likely than not.”

  The idea that Rae might find her lacking in self-protection or any other way irritated Audrey. She toyed with telling Rae about her feeling before the attack. But she would sound like a conclusion-jumping, highly emotional woman. She didn’t want to appear flighty and unprofessional. Why Rae’s opinion mattered so much, Audrey wasn’t sure.

  “We’ll go with the assault hypothesis until a better one comes along.” Rae clutched the small notepad in her left hand, stood, and offered Audrey her right, which she ignored. It simply would not do for them to touch. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”

  “Why don’t you move on to more serious cases? I’m sure you have some.” The statement sounded harsher than Audrey intended, but she had to scare or warn or plead Rae away from her assault. Audrey stood no chance of finding her assailant first if Rae Butler stayed on the case.

  “All my cases are serious and I want to solve each one,” Rae assured her.

  Audrey held Rae’s gaze and stood in front of her. The room seemed to recede as sensation from their locked stare surged through her. Overwhelming sadness and a sense of fear almost overcame her. She momentarily closed her eyes and tried to block the feelings. “I’m so, so sorry.” The words, born of pure emotion, slipped out before Audrey could censor herself.

  “Sorry for what?”

  The flood of feelings ripped through her again. “Wasn’t much help.” She swayed and struggled to remain upright.

  Rae reached for her but she stepped away, grabbing the edge of the sofa for support. “Audrey, are you all right?”

  “Still a little light-headed, I guess.” She didn’t say that Rae’s proximity, not the assault, precipitated this particular bout of dizziness. She couldn’t say that contact between them would probably end any chance of even a friendship. She had no idea until this moment that mere physical closeness might have the same effect.

  Chapter Three

  Two days later Rae was summoned to Sergeant Sharp’s office, where she surveyed his wall hangings and waited for him to end a personal phone call. He seemed to have a plaque or certificate for every Mickey Mouse class and seminar he’d ever attended—obvious overcompensation. Sharp, a twenty-year veteran, had probably collected on a favor to get the prestigious Special Victims’ Unit assignment.

  The troops referred to him as a pretty-boy leg humper who didn’t know the meaning of real police work. Behind his back, they called him Sergeant Not So Sharp, or Not So for short. Fortunately, most of the detectives in the unit had experience and didn’t require a lot of supervision. Coming from patrol, she was the exception, with only two years in SVU. If she needed help she asked a senior officer.

  Sharp hung up the phone and waved her in. “Got a little present for you, Butler.” He pushed a stack of overstuffed flex folders toward her. “The Whisperer case is yours now. Give it your best shot. I’m not assigning you a partner unless you turn up something. And if you do find anything, let me know. Got it?”

  She got it perfectly. Not So didn’t want her to bother him unless she turned up a lead resulting in clearance and/or subsequent publicity. He definitely wanted in on that. “Yes, sir.”

  In Rae’s opinion, serial-assault cases should receive more hype and a higher priority, even if they were cold cases. The department didn’t expend a lot of
manpower on unsolved crimes unless they were homicides. This particular suspect had stopped short of killing. She picked up the files and turned to leave.

  “One more thing. You don’t have to worry about the Everhart case anymore.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t ask any dip-shit questions.”

  Screw that. Questions were her business, and she wanted to know why the sudden shift in priorities. She didn’t believe in coincidences or the kindness of politically motivated supervisors. “Was a suspect arrested? Are you giving it to someone else?”

  “I told you, it’s no longer your concern, Butler.”

  “Three days ago the chief and the mayor were breathing down my neck for an arrest.”

  “And now they’re not. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.” He nodded toward the folders in her arms. “Count your blessings.”

  Not So was as intuitive as a hammer, but he was blessed with political acumen. He believed information was power, and he wasn’t about to share any of his. She didn’t like giving up cases before she cleared them, especially this one. It was only a simple assault, but she wanted to know what happened to Audrey. And her reasons weren’t purely professional.

  Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe Audrey had used her position in the mayor’s office to call off the investigation. Not So would definitely jump at the chance to do the mayor a favor. Would the police department let that happen? Did Audrey have something to hide or was she simply concerned with the most productive use of departmental resources, as she’d stated? Dropping a case, no matter how insignificant, was sort of like cooking the crime stat books and generally frowned upon.

  As she left Sharp’s office, she considered maybe he was right to take her off the investigation. Rae couldn’t even concentrate with Audrey staring at her. She lost track of physical tells and the facts while drowning in her blue eyes. Audrey could’ve spun an intricate tale of deceit while Rae focused on her sexy leg crossing. Rae was usually more attentive and much more certain of other people’s reactions. If Audrey was hiding something, could Rae trust herself enough to ask the right questions? Audrey was simply distracting. But her delicate façade masked fierce independence and an almost-palpable depth of experience. Was what Rae saw in Audrey a reaction to some past hurt, a deeply buried scar, or the result of her recent assault?