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  Berrymore Street runs parallel to Silverpine Street, where Kevin Rand lives. Where Abigail Macy had seen the murder take place.

  More than just a coincidence? Annie thought so.

  She slid open the side drawer of the desk and dug out a file folder, looking for the address of Kevin Rand’s house. Number 76. She stabbed a few more keys and zoomed in on the map.

  She sat back, a triumphant smile on her face.

  The house where Vera Blackley lives on Berrymore, and Kevin Rand’s house on Silverpine, touched each other back to back, and except for a few bushes, the two lots joined in seamlessly with each other.

  Chapter 17

  Five Days Ago

  VERA BLACKLEY wasn’t happy. She knew the man she was having an affair with was married. And of course, she was married as well.

  But she wanted more.

  Her marriage had long been on the rocks, and it meant nothing to her any more. Anderson was her second husband. A loser, and a poor excuse for a man. He was just a mistake she had made, and she wanted out.

  Her first marriage had lasted several years, but it had been a disaster, and she was surprised they had kept up appearances as long as they did. The best years of her life had been given to a man who gave nothing in return. She couldn’t spare any more time, when life was short, and she wanted to get all she could from it. She wanted everything she deserved, and he just couldn’t give it to her. So, when Anderson came along, with promises of eternal love, she was swept right up.

  And so, she married Anderson three years ago. The honeymoon was good, and so was the first couple of months or so, but everything had slipped downhill since then. Now it was just a facade, just a brittle shell protecting their doomed marriage. Doomed from the start. Why she hadn’t been able to see him for what he really was, she couldn’t understand. She had been misled. He had treated her well when they were seeing each other, so she didn’t hesitate in divorcing her first husband, and marrying Anderson. She thought he was the love of her life.

  How wrong she was. What a fool she had been.

  And now at thirty-eight years old, she wanted more. Was she always destined to meet failures? She knew she was still attractive. Her long thick hair hung down below her shoulders. She had nice full lips. A perfect nose. The wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead were barely noticeable. And she took good care of her body. Still a nice flat stomach, unspoiled all these years by being careful she didn’t get pregnant. She shuddered at the thought.

  She stood and let her housecoat slip to the floor, naked, inspecting herself in the full-length mirror on her bedroom wall. She still had a great figure. Long legs, and well shaped. She suspected there wasn’t a man alive that wouldn’t turn and watch her as she walked by. She was pleased with what she saw.

  She smiled as she thought of her new love. She had met him six months ago, and he was not a failure like the last two. He was successful, and she knew she loved him. And he loved her. He had told her so on many occasions.

  She was thankful Anderson was often out of town, seemingly on business. She suspected he was seeing someone else as well. She didn’t really care. She didn’t love him any more, and she knew he didn’t bother himself in the least worrying about what she did.

  But she wasn’t happy.

  She wanted her latest lover to marry her. She had told him on many occasions she would gladly divorce Anderson, and marry him, but he had never expressed the same desire. At least not outright, just in a vague way now and then. But, she couldn’t wait forever. Why was he holding on to his marriage when he had no feelings for his wife?

  She hated this running around, hiding, not being able to say anything. She had never been to his house, even though his wife was away for extended periods of time. No, he always came here. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t feel as though he loved her as much as he said he did. She wasn’t going to take it any more.

  Sure, she loved him, and didn’t want to lose him, but she could find another man if she really had to. They were a dime a dozen, and of course, it wouldn’t take much to make them want her. She had that way about her. Most men would do anything to get a chance with her. She spun around and admired herself from the back. Looks good. I still got it.

  And now, she was fed up. She wanted a commitment. And tonight she was going to get it. She would lay it all out in front of him. It was now or never. She would give him an ultimatum.

  But subtly, of course.

  She looked at her watch. Still some time before he comes.

  She would have to seduce him, using her many, and ample charms, and show him what he would be missing if he chose to ignore their love.

  Sure, he’d seen her body before, but tonight, she was going to keep it covered, showing just enough to make him hungry, and then deny him.

  She laughed out loud. This was going to work. She’d had experience in the past with just this sort of thing. She knew how to get her way.

  Humming to herself now, anticipating the evening, she went to her closet. She browsed through the long row of clothing. She knew what he liked. She chose a sleek red dress with a plunging neckline, her back naked to the waist, tight enough to show her beautiful figure, and short enough to reveal the tops of her silk stockings. Perfect. She removed it from the hanger and dropped it on the bed.

  She went to the vanity beside the door and slipped open the top drawer. Forget the pantyhose. She pulled out a pair of red stockings and a garter belt, the same color as the dress. She admired them, and dropped them on the bed.

  And of course, a pair of red panties. She laughed. He won’t see those tonight, and maybe never again if he doesn’t make the right decision.

  And then to the closet again. A pair of red shoes with heels like towers. And a pair of nice earrings, black, to compliment the color of her eyes, with a matching necklace.

  She set them aside and went to the shower. She washed her long black hair, and then toweled off and flicked on her hair dryer, drying her hair and curling it at the tips, the way she knew he liked it.

  She spent the next half hour getting dressed, adjusting everything perfectly, painting her lips bright red, and spraying on a little Victoria’s Secret body spray.

  She stood back and admired herself, smiling grimly, determined to make her plan work.

  Tonight’s the night.

  Do, or die.

  Chapter 18

  Thursday, August 18th, 11:05 AM

  ANNIE TOOK a more thorough look at the police report of Anderson Blackley regarding his missing wife, Vera.

  She was sure now there was a connection. She believed Vera Blackley might have been the woman Abigail Macy had seen murdered on her way home late Sunday evening. Actually, in the wee hours of Monday morning.

  She didn’t believe Dr. Hoffman had been correct when he said Mrs. Macy was delusional and paranoid. Maybe she was at times, but not concerning what she had claimed to have seen take place that night.

  It was too much of a coincidence that the two houses were back to back, and Vera Blackley was reported missing the day after.

  The report listed her name and address, as well as vital statistics such as hair color, weight, age, and etcetera.

  Under the heading ‘Circumstances leading to disappearance’, a statement had been filled out by Anderson Blackley.

  “I was out of town on business for several days and returned home on the morning of Monday, August 14th. At that time, my wife was not at home. I was not immediately concerned, but when she didn’t return by late afternoon, I phoned around to her friends and family. No one had seen her since Sunday, so I called the police.”

  Not much to go on there. It’s not a crime to be missing. Anderson Blackley wasn’t suspected of anything, and if there were no evidence harm had come to Vera Blackley, then the police would only do preliminary investigations.

  She would have to arrange to interview Anderson Blackley directly.

  The report said he was the National Sales Manager for a new line of shoes
for the elderly, called ‘Proper Shoes’. There was a contact phone number. She called it.

  A receptionist answered. Blackley was there, and Annie was put through to him immediately. She introduced herself and asked if they could arrange to see him later that day.

  Blackley sounded confused. “Why are you involved in this?” he asked. “I didn’t hire any private investigators.”

  “We were hired by your neighbor, Philip Macy, to look into the death of his wife. She had earlier reported seeing someone killed on the property behind your house, and we think there may be a connection to the disappearance of your wife.”

  “You don’t think she’s dead, do you?” He didn’t seem to sound concerned.

  “It’s too soon to say anything, Mr. Blackley, but we would like to speak to you if possible.”

  “Hmm. Well, ok. I can see you at one o’clock today, if that’s good for you.”

  “That would be perfect,” Annie replied.

  She hung up and sat back in the swivel chair, formulating a plan. First, she wanted to check something out. She had a couple of hours before their appointment with Blackley.

  Jake was in the basement, doing his daily workout routine. She went from the office and swung open the basement door, leading off of the kitchen. She could hear him grunting and straining. She peeked down and watched him for a minute, admiring him, his muscles bulging under his shirt, soaked with sweat. She headed down the stairs.

  He looked up and grinned when he saw her, and dropped the barbell he was lifting. It thumped and settled into place. He grabbed a towel, wiped off his face, tossed it aside and looked at her.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  Annie sat down on the bottom step. “We have an appointment with Anderson Blackley at one o’clock.”

  He cocked his head. “Who’s Anderson Blackley?”

  Annie laughed, and then filled him in on her conversation with Hank, the missing persons list, the police reports, and her suspicions regarded Vera Blackley’s disappearance.

  Jake whistled, “And she lives right behind Kevin Rand?”

  “Yes. I thought I would drop over there first and take a look around the property. I just want to get a feel for the area.”

  Jake shrugged. “Sounds like a plan. Do you want me to come with you?”

  Annie shook her head. “No, I won’t be long. I just need to see for myself.”

  “Ok.” He went back to his weights.

  Annie stood and went upstairs to the kitchen. She grabbed her keys from the basket on the counter, her umbrella from the stand in the front lobby, and slipped on an old pair of shoes. Practically worn out, but they would be perfect for today. She made her way out the door and looked at the sky.

  The rain had been falling intermittently all morning. Right now, the sun had forced itself out from behind the low-lying clouds, but all around was the evidence of earlier showers. She caught an unmistakable whiff of ozone in the air.

  She climbed into her Ford Escort, fastened the seatbelt, and brought the engine to life, pulling away.

  In a few minutes, she came to a stop in front of the Blackley house on Berrymore Street. She stepped out and surveyed the house. Nothing remarkable about it. Just a normal middle-class house in a middle-class neighborhood. Garage jutting out in front, nicely manicured lawn, small flowerbed under the front window.

  She took the narrow pathway to the front steps, onto a small porch, and knocked on the door. She waited. There was no answer, just as she’d hoped. Anderson Blackley was at work, but she wanted to make sure no one else was here before she went snooping around.

  Stepping off the porch, she moved along the front of the house and made her way up the side, to the property at the back. There was a back door in the house, and she climbed the steps to the small deck and peeked in the sliding double doors. She could see the kitchen, and down a hallway beyond, probably to the living area.

  She turned around, facing the back of the property. She could plainly see Kevin Rand’s house behind. She walked across the wet lawn, her shoes now making a squishing sound as she walked. She heard thunder far off to the north. She went about fifty feet, and then onto the Rand property, along the side of the house, crossed the front lawn, and then to the street beyond.

  A couple of young girls, chattering away, walked by on the other side of the street. They should be in school. An old woman hustled past holding an umbrella. She smiled a sweet hello to Annie, and scurried away, probably hurrying to get home before it rained again.

  Annie stood on the sidewalk and looked back. This is near where Abigail Macy would have been standing. This is where she saw the murder take place. She had seen the victim run from the side of the house to the front lawn of the Macy house, where she was caught, strangled, and then dragged back.

  Dragged back to the Blackley house.

  She was sure of it now. The victim had been Vera Blackley.

  But who was the killer. Anderson Blackley? Or somebody else? Was Blackley really out of town?

  That’s what she had to find out.

  A few drops of rain slapped into her hair. She raised her head and looked for the sun, now behind a black cloud. The rain started more seriously. She had left her umbrella in the car.

  She ran around the Rand house, crossed the back yard, through to the Blackley residence, up the side of the house, and back to her car. The rain was in earnest now, and she jumped into her car and started it up, slapping the wipers on.

  The tires hummed on the wet pavement as she touched the gas and splashed up the street toward home.

  Chapter 19

  Five Days Ago

  SHE WAS READY for him. Her mind was made up. He couldn’t play with her emotions any more and expect her to keep following him around like a dimwitted floozie forever.

  She looked at her watch, and sat on the couch, pulling back the curtains. He should be here any minute. She watched and waited. Finally, she saw his car pull into the driveway.

  She smiled grimly to herself as she stood and went to the front door.

  She opened it and watched as he stepped from his vehicle. He looked around, as if to be sure no one was watching, and then strode up the path.

  Vera Blackley opened the door and greeted him with a smile before he had a chance to knock.

  He stepped in; set the bottle of wine, he was carrying, on a stand by the door, and looked her over. He whistled, his gaze moving down slowly, taking in the sight of the tempting woman in front of him.

  She smiled again as his gaze stopped on her face. He moved in, holding her close, and they kissed passionately for a moment. His hands wandered, and she pulled back. She left him staring as she wiggled into the living room.

  He grabbed the wine from the table, and followed, not moving his eyes from her, watching her walk.

  She took a seat on the couch, crossed her legs, and looked at him seductively. She finally spoke, “It’s good to see you again, darling.”

  He set the bottle on the coffee table and sat beside her, leaning in, his hands reaching to touch her all over, but she pushed him away again. He sat back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning slightly.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Why don’t you open the wine and pour us a couple of glasses?”

  He looked at her thoughtfully a moment, and then answered with a shrug, “Ok,” He stood, swept up the bottle and headed for the kitchen.

  She went to the stereo and chose a CD. She popped it in the player, and a mix of some 80’s music came quietly from the speakers. Some soft love ballads she liked.

  She heard the cork pop in the kitchen. A cabinet door slammed. She took a seat on the couch again, crossed her legs, and waited until he returned.

  She had a plan, and she was going to stick to it. She must have an answer tonight. She didn’t see any reason for prolonging it and was determined to know what their future was, that is, if they had any future together at all.

  He came back in the room, set the glasses on the coffee table an
d poured the wine, bubbling and spitting. He handed her one, and picked up the other one, raising it as if to make a toast, before taking a taste.

  She sipped at her glass, watching him.

  “My wife’s out of town again,” he said. “Gone to see her mother.” He shrugged. “It’s better that way. It makes it easier for us to get together.”

  She nodded and smiled.

  Now’s the time. “When are you going to divorce her?” she asked quietly, sweetly.

  He studied her, and then said, “Soon.”

  “You have been promising me that for a long time.”

  “Vera, darling, it’s just not good timing right now.”

  “You’ve been saying that for a long time as well,” she said, not so sweetly, and then asked in a demanding voice, “When will it be the right time?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  “And when will you know?” Her voice was sharper now. “You say you love me. You know I love you, and so what's standing in the way?”

  He groaned. “You know I love you, Vera. Do we have to have this conversation again?”

  “Yes, we do. I need an answer.”

  He set his glass on the table and stood up. He began pacing slowly.

  “I need an answer, now,” she said.

  He stopped and looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again with a sigh.

  She waited.

  “Can we just go upstairs,” he said. “Then I can think about it later.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He stared at her, pleading, “Come on Vera, I missed you. Let’s go.” He sat beside her and reached out to hold her, but she held up her hands. He stopped abruptly and scowled, and then sat back and glared at her.

  She said, “I have promised you before, I will divorce Anderson, as soon as I’m sure you will divorce your wife. He doesn’t love me anyway, and I don’t love him.”