Read Online Engaged to Die by Carolyn Hart - Free Book Online Page A

done, Stephanie Hammond pacedback and forth across the small room, her face furrowed in thought. Finally, she stopped, stared hard at Annie. “All right. I’ll do it.”
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    Annie leaned against the cool plastered wall. The interior door between the manager’s office and the adjacent room was open a sliver, just enough to permit a line of light. This space had been Stephanie’s office before she was named interim manager. Now the office was unused. It was chilly and smelled faintly dusty. The drapes were drawn, shutting out the thin winter light. Annie wondered if the heating vents were closed. She felt cold as ice. She folded her arms tight across her front, suppressed a shiver. If her scheme was unsuccessful…
    A door squeaked. “I’ll just take a moment of your time, Mrs. Foster. Here, please take this chair. It’s the most comfortable.”
    Annie edged to the line of light. She could see very little, a portion of Mrs. Foster’s aluminum cane and worn black shoes that laced. But she could hear every word.
    Mrs. Foster’s voice was uncertain. “Stephanie, I’m sure Denise paid my rent—”
    â€œOh, everything’s fine. Well”—the manager paused—“actually, I do have a concern. But I’ll wait until J. J. gets here before—”
    The cane quivered as the old woman’s hand shook. “J. J.?” Twila Foster drew her breath in sharply. The cane poked forward and her thin arm came in sight. “No, I don’t want to—” She broke off.
    â€œStephanie.” The high soft voice rolled across the room, thick as spreading oil.
    â€œYes. Come in, J. J. Close the door, please.” Stephanie was brisk.
    The door clicked shut. He walked across the room, briefly in Annie’s sight, greasy black hair curling on the shoulders of the red-and-black plaid shirt, fat hands hanging loose at his sides, dark moccasins noiseless on the parquet floor.
    There was not a breath of sound from the old woman.
    â€œThanks, J. J. Now, I’ve had a complaint that you have spoken sharply to Mrs. Foster.” Stephanie cleared her throat. “Twila, I’d like to hear what you have to say.”
    â€œNo. I didn’t say anything.” Her thin voice rose and cracked. “I swear I didn’t. Please, I want to go back to my room.”
    Annie gripped the door jamb, rested her head against the wood. Oh, God. Anyone could hear the terror in Mrs. Foster’s voice. Annie blinked back tears. This was dreadful, dreadful….
    â€œTwila,” Stephanie was impatient, “I have to—”
    The door opened. “Stephanie”—a woman’s voice was urgent—“we’ve got a problem outside. Somebody’s blocking the drive and I can’t get them to move. Can you please come?”
    â€œOh. I’m busy right now.” An exasperated breath.
    â€œBut all right. J. J., stay here. I want to see about this.” There were brisk steps. “I’ll be right back.” The door closed.
    There was silence.
    To Annie it was a hideous silence, heavy with menace. She stood there rigid, sick with apprehension. A faint squeak sounded. Annie’s head jerked toward the hall. The door opened and Stephanie slipped inside. She pulled the door slowly shut behind her and tiptoed across the cold room. Annie pulled back to give Stephanie room to see through the sliver of space.
    Twila’s quavering voice rose. “I didn’t say anything to Stephanie. I swear I didn’t.”
    â€œOh, but you must have, Twila.” There was no sound from the moccasins, but he moved closer and closer until he stood over the seated woman. “You made a mistake. Now, you’ll have to tell Stephanie you were having a bad dream. If you don’t—”
    Annie hated his high soft voice. It threatened menace deadly as the pinch of poison in a Borgia ring.
    Stephanie bent nearer to the line