Never Tomorrow Page 10

  “Not sure why I dumped all this on you, but you always were a good listener, Whitney.”

  Whitney couldn’t think of a word to say. What a sad woman. Did she feel anything?

  “Don’t look at me like that. People make their own choices. I may sound cold, but it’s true. I’m not going to ruin my life over Jillian. But between you and me, I’m worried about Edward. I can’t get him to go anywhere. He’s even cut back his hours at work since this happened. All he does is sit around and mope.” Anger fringed Tara’s tone now. “I’ve invested a lot of my life in Edward. He better get over this, and fast.”

  All of two years flashed through Whitney’s mind. So much for commitment.

  “I told him to see a therapist,” Tara continued. “But I don’t know if he did. He’s closed himself up—won’t even talk about Jillian’s death with me.”

  No wonder. Whitney shook her head.

  “I keep telling him he shouldn’t feel her suicide had anything to do with us.”

  Or her murder. Might Tara or Edward be responsible? Was that why her new husband was so upset? Whitney couldn’t help but speculate. Was Tara a murderer?

  TWENTY-THREE

  The day before her TV show, the producer called Sarah at work. “We’re looking forward to having you as our guest. I’ll meet you in our waiting room before the show. You’ll be introduced to Rich and Lena there before we go on the set.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “One more thing. We had a slight program change. We work hard to keep the show avant-garde. There’s been a news development we want to capitalize on. That’s why I’m calling. It might be a little sticky…”

  Sarah tensed. “What?”

  “Well, uhh, you know about the recent women’s series in the paper about emotional trauma suffered by female survivors of accidental deaths or suicides that claimed their mothers prematurely?”

  “Yes?”

  “We believe the subject goes with our discussion of menopause, changes in female roles, and depression.” Her tone overflowed with tentativeness.

  “We cancelled the OB/GYN slated to appear with you and added Ellie O’Connell, whose mom died recently under questionable circumstances. And we’ve invited Whitney Barnes, editor of the Courier, who has researched these unusual deaths. Do you know her?”

  “Not personally. I’ve read her articles. I do know Ellie…”

  “Ellie contacted us and begged to come on, because she doesn’t believe her mom committed suicide. She wants more media focus on this and was thrilled you’d be on with her. Would this discussion be too traumatic? I mean, what’s your take on the emotional impact?”

  “Ordinarily, I don’t approve of using a public forum to pursue such a sensitive, personal subject.” Sarah bit her lip. Perhaps she’d made a mistake in agreeing to appear. “Exactly how are you going to handle this?”

  “We’ll start by discussing whether her mom may have been menopausal and discuss if she’d sought help for depression prior to the presumed suicide. If so, perhaps the outcome may have been different. We’d like you to give general principles that may help other depressed women. Ellie wants to do this and bring up the possibility her mom wasn’t depressed, but murdered.”

  “My goodness.” Sarah chilled. “I can’t see how discussing this in front of an audience will be helpful.”

  “Well, mini-expose is done a lot on TV.”

  “Yes, and can result in tremendous personal pain as well as lawsuits, I imagine. But you’d know more about that.”

  The producer offered additional assurances that Ellie wanted to do this.

  “The problem is her loss is such a recent one. Even if you cleared it with her, I’m not sure Ellie can make an intelligent decision given her present emotional state. This makes me uncomfortable.”

  “I said Ellie has agreed.” The producer was firm. “And I might remind you we have invested a lot of promotional time and money in your appearance.”

  “All right, if Ellie wants to discuss this, I won’t attempt to influence her. I’m not in favor, but since you’re proceeding with her permission, I’ll participate. But be aware that I’ll use professional discretion and cut off anything I feel may be harmful to this young woman.”

  The phone went silent a moment. The coldness in the producer’s goodbye could set Jell-O. This was not going to be the smooth experience Sarah had hoped for. Wouldn’t this producer love to have Ellie go into a dramatic painful breakdown in front of a million people on the air!

  What had Sarah gotten herself into?

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The woman who had murdered Jillian awoke at 6 a.m. and jerked off her light blanket. Her left arm throbbed. She rubbed a ridge on the skin a few inches above her wrist where her sapphire bracelet had ridden up and cut off her circulation. The bracelet had been a gift from someone in her distant past. Memories were important to Lily. She never removed it.

  In her dream she was being chased through a graveyard by newspaper editor Whitney Barnes. She kept tripping on gravestones and barely managed to outrun her. No wonder her nightgown was wet with sweat. She never should have read the newspaper accounts of the murders.

  She had a tough decision to make. Sleeping on the problem hadn’t helped. This morning she was no closer to an answer.

  It disturbed her that another person might have to die, someone she preferred not to kill. This wasn’t part of her original plan. She had to think this through, but lately thinking was becoming more difficult.

  To rally herself she smiled. “Put on your smile first thing every morning. It’s so pretty.” Her dad had said that on the day he told her he was leaving her mother for good.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Nervous is a better word!” Sarah replied when Karen Trindle asked if she was getting more excited about her upcoming TV show.

  “I feel as if I should prepare, but there’s nothing specific I can do. I don’t know exactly what questions I’ll be asked. I’m not concerned about speaking regarding my field of expertise, but TV is a weird medium for a counselor. I think of it as being for entertainers, even though that’s changed a bit with all the talk shows.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so. I’m concerned that my agenda seems different from the producer’s.” Sarah’s forehead creased.

  The two women sipped coffee in Sarah’s conference room and made final plans for their upcoming workshop.

  “What do you mean? Different in what way?”

  “Actually, I’m a bit annoyed. The producer asked me to emphasize depression that can lead to suicide. I was expecting to discuss the general emotional changes of a woman during menopause when her nest empties. I intended to give suggestions for meaningful, albeit different, relationships with husbands and grown children.”

  “I know the spiel. Older women are still important in the lives of grown children, and grandchildren still need their wisdom and love. The job isn’t over, just another phase of the process.”

  “Right, positive focus, rather than negative. Satisfaction comes from loving and giving—not taking, the message women heard in the me-me days of the eighties and nineties. You and I know the havoc disappearing wives and moms caused.”

  “What will you say about suicide?”

  “Changes in body chemistry. I’ll also mention that the pain a woman experiences from a husband’s infidelity and divorce can lead to wanting to be dead, but counseling can help her deal with that.”

  Karen held her cup in two hands. “You’re making me think of these recent deaths. Do you think an ex-husband could stage a death scene to make it look like suicide? Take Jillian Langley’s for instance?”

  “Of course a man could make it seem as if his wife’s despondency caused her death, and then pretend to be upset himself to throw people off. Or it could be a jealous new wife. In Jillian’s case, an unidentified woman was seen leaving the restaurant with her. Listen to us conjecturing.”

  “You think a husband would hire a wom
an to do the killing for him? I’m thinking of Edward Langley.” Karen shuddered. “I would say he appears overly aggressive and very well could be a killer.”

  “You saw him in a vulnerable, needy state, seeking counseling.”

  “True.” Karen’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “But let’s not forget men aren’t the only ones to blame for creating emotional distress in their spouses.”

  “Right, think of all the husbands and children abandoned by women who walked away from good, solid marriages to ‘find themselves’ in the bubble of independence and regretted it later. It breaks my heart. I hope I have an opportunity to bring up this point on TV.”

  Karen added another spoonful of sugar to her coffee. “Careful. Get too high on your soap box, and you’ll never be invited for a second appearance on Rich and Lena’s show.”

  “I’m not worried. If I can make constructive comments that will help some spouses, it’s worth it. Couples have no idea the emotional pain infidelity and divorce create in their lives and even grown children’s. Not to mention the joy the divorced couple misses when grandchildren arrive.”

  “Permanent pain. I agree.” Karen set down her cup with a clatter.

  “No, I refuse to believe it’s irreversible. God can still heal wounds from deep hurts in husbands and wives and kids.”

  “It’s getting late.” Karen began to collect her papers. “I wish I had your confidence in a helpful, caring God. I see my role as empowering people to help themselves. Only then are they capable of change. See you next on TV. Good luck.”

  Sarah grinned. “Fat chance of being well-received, huh? I may get burned alive.”

  “At a TV stake!” Karen forced a laugh.

  Sarah became serious again. “Nothing I’ve ever done career-wise comes close to my joy as a happy, fulfilled wife and mom of three now grown children.”

  A shade fluttered over Karen’s eyes.

  Sarah suddenly remembered Karen had no children. She hastened to add, “I’m so sorry. What a thoughtless thing for me to say.”

  A smile slowly upturned Karen’s mouth. “You forget Jordan, my nephew, filled that niche when we adopted him after his parents were killed in a car accident.”

  “What a selfless thing to do. I didn’t know you adopted him. How old was he then?”

  “Twelve. We’ve had many happy years. He’s an absolute delight.”

  “But Jordan calls you ’Aunt Karen,’ doesn’t he?”

  “I didn’t feel a need to change the name he’d become accustomed to. Say, I’ve got to run. I have two more appointments today. We’re all set, right?”

  “Yes. As soon as this TV appearance is over, I’ll prepare my speech for our workshop.”

  “Good. Not to worry. You’ll be great—your photogenic face will sparkle.”

  Karen scurried out.

  An adopted child she never mentioned?

  Sarah wondered what else she didn’t know about her colleague.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Sarah put a call into The Cortland Courier and talked her way past a secretary and production assistant to get to Whitney.

  “Ms. Barnes, this is Dr. Sarah Stevens. I understand we’re doing the Rich and Lena show together.”

  “Yes.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss something with you.” Sarah tapped the pen she held on her desktop.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve been, well, uneasy about the shift in focus of the program. I understand you’re willing to participate in having your friend, Ellie O’Connell’s, mother’s suicide be the subject of public discussion.” Her next words came out haltingly. “Isn’t that a very painful and private subject?”

  “A legitimate question, Sarah, if I may call you that…”

  “Of course.”

  “Quite frankly, Ellie is wondering if her mom’s death was murder. She wants to bring the issue up.”

  Sarah shook her head. “What a delicate topic to expose to public scrutiny, especially when the police apparently don’t agree.”

  “I tend to side with Ellie. The circumstances were strange. She sees this as a forum to stir up some information to clarify things, which ultimately could be conducive to her emotional health.”

  “If she’s up to it.” Sarah thought back to their brief contact at church and her recent counseling session. “Perhaps you know her better than I.”

  “I believe I do.”

  “Okay, I wanted to check with an outside source. If she feels this strongly, I’ll proceed with it.”

  “Good. I look forward to meeting you in person tomorrow.”

  Sarah hung up and stared at the phone a long time before moving from her chair. Hadn’t Whitney Barnes done an article on suspicious deaths? Had she instilled this fixation in her friend, Ellie?

  The more Sarah replayed her conversation with Whitney, the more her misgivings grew. She’d reread Whitney’s feature on death. Why was this young woman so preoccupied with death and murder? She held a responsible job as a journalist. Disturbed people sometimes functioned normally in certain compartments of their life. Was that true of Whitney? What did anyone know about her life before she came to Cortland City? She shuddered. Might Whitney be involved in writing about some of her own crimes?

  My imagination is way too bizarre. Sarah groaned. Whitney’s probably a sweet young woman. Stop reading motives into people.

  Then again, if Whitney was a killer, Sarah’d be on TV with a murderer.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Nothing was working for Sarah tonight—not her favorite memorized Scriptures, not even her sleep-inducing relaxation exercises.

  She tossed in bed, willing herself back to sleep. “In all things make your requests known to God, and the God of all peace will fill your heart...”

  Where was her peace? It was 3:30 a.m. She didn’t need huge bags under her eyes bigger than the ones nature had already deposited for her.

  Why did appearing on TV unsettle her? Simply because, as she often told clients, the unfamiliar holds an element of uneasiness. In this case, she’d have little control over the discussion, which was discomfiting. Could she come up with logical answers spontaneously? Her concern had definitely heightened since the original focus of the show changed.

  Wasn’t this an ego issue? Her pride made her fear failing and looking foolish. Sarah held no illusion about celebrity stardom but did hope to avoid embarrassing herself.

  God, forgive me if I’m being vain and petty. May I glorify you, not myself. Let this TV show be a good use of the time and the talents you’ve given me. Bless those who are in the studio and those who watch at home.

  Finally, around 4 a.m. Sarah slept, until the alarm chimed at 6:30. She dressed quickly in the outfit she’d selected the previous night—a gray jersey dress with matching jacket accented by a silver and turquoise necklace and earrings set. Checking herself in the hall mirror, she murmured aloud, “You’ll do. Now go do your thing.” She grabbed her shoulder bag briefcase and stepped boldly out the door into her new adventure.

  The assistant producer, a short, thin man who looked thirty-five but may have been fifty, seemed polished and professional. He introduced himself as Merv and welcomed Sarah warmly. He escorted her to a tiny room with a TV, small sofa, and two chairs. “You can leave your things in there.” He pointed to a locker in the corner. “I’ll be right back.”

  A young gal popped in and offered Sarah coffee, tea, or juice. She declined. The assistant producer returned and escorted Sarah to a small cubicle for makeup.

  A lovely Hispanic woman named Mary with pitch-black hair and skin the shade of cream worked in silence to deftly add stage makeup and more color to Sarah’s cheeks. Then she patted a complete dusting of powder over Sarah’s skin. Lastly, Mary painted Sarah’s lips using a disposable wand dipped into a tube of coral liquid.

  The young assistant reappeared and guided Sarah back to the waiting room. “Would you like to watch the show that’s on now, preceding Rich and Lena?”

>   “Thanks, I’d prefer to sit quietly and compose my thoughts.”

  “Of course. Let me know if you need anything. My office is next door.”

  Sarah nodded. She settled onto the sofa and pulled a small notebook from her purse where she kept her list of five favorite Scripture verses. She trailed her finger down to Philippians 4:13. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” She read it silently three times. “I’m counting on you, Lord,” she whispered. Then she reread the text from her husband on her phone “You’re going to be great! Praying for you.”

  Minutes later, the producer charged in. “Follow me.” Sarah’s blood froze. He led her to a chair on the stage where she faced an already seated audience. Studio Four had viewer seats ten rows deep. The set was a smaller space than it appeared on TV.

  Cohosts Rich and Lena strolled out shortly before airtime. Lena tossed back her long, flowing blonde hair and arranged her floral skirt as she settled into her seat. Rich made a joke about the weather, which he read off a teleprompter. Lena responded with a light, lively laugh. They welcomed the studio audience with small talk for several minutes.

  In the background a countdown began. “Thirty seconds...nineteen...five...one.”

  “Welcome to The Rich and Lena Show.” A vibrant announcer’s voice reached a crescendo filling the living room-sized stage. A producer waved an applause sign at the audience, and then silenced them seconds later.

  Rich smiled widely into the camera. “Women’s issues—our theme all week! Call your neighbors and friends, gals. Today we’ll discuss menopause—a time of major change in a woman’s life. What do women need to know to get through this stage without any major upset?”

  Lena quipped, “I’m way too young for this information, but I want to be prepared for the future.”

  “Hey, Lena, I’m not even married, but maybe someday I’ll catch a gal who can’t outrun me. I want to know what to expect from the female psyche and how to be an emotional support to my wife. I’ve heard menopause can be a time when depression rears its ugly head.”