Never Tomorrow Read online

  I’ve come to know Jesus, the great love of my life, and He freed me from the bitterness I harbored when you left. He expects all of us to completely forgive those who violate us, just as He has forgiven me for my many failures and shortcomings.

  Also, I’m writing to encourage you to personally reconsider your belief in the sacrificial death of Jesus, who atoned for all our sins and readies us for existence in heaven. All you need do is admit your imperfections and trust in His perfection.

  I’d have sent this before, but I doubted you’d read it while I was alive. I hope for your sake you’ll return to church. I wish you and Althea a happy life. Your former wife, who will love you forever, Blaine.”

  Larry wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead and swiped at the tears running down his cheeks before he kissed the signature on the letter tenderly. Then he tore the paper to pieces.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Lily awoke from a gruesome dream. She was clawing a fully clothed body. The setting of the sapphire stones in her bracelet kept catching on the dead person’s sweater. Then she saw that it was her own body she clawed. She bolted up in bed.

  Maybe these killings were harder on her than she’d thought.

  Nonsense. She’d simply been overtired last night. She reminded herself that murder was the right choice—if she didn’t get caught, that was. She had confidence in her ability to be very careful. So far she had outwitted them all, but could she continue?

  Lily had read of trademark killers—people who left behind a ring, a poem, a flower at the scene—but had rejected the idea. It wasn’t important for her to leave a sign to show off or claim credit.

  She wanted her murders to be subtle and seem random, which is why she took such pains with her planning. They mustn’t be linked together. Perhaps now that was becoming impossible.

  The newspaper series and TV coverage could lead people to connect them. She didn’t like this extra scrutiny. Nothing must interfere with moving forward.

  For her safety, another resident of Cortland City, editor Whitney Barnes of the Courier, might have to be removed. She made her decision coldly, wisely. A shame, but essential.

  Simply the method remained to be determined.

  * * *

  Sarah tried to leave thoughts of Blaine behind as she turned onto the tree-canopied driveway leading to her home at 5:20 p.m. She used this road as her mental cut-off line for clients’ problems and any work issues. Unfortunately, her plan didn’t always work. Tonight there was no way.

  Now that the children were gone, this four bedroom, three bath house was more than she and Pete needed, but the property remained irresistible—a cul-de-sac backing up to a forest preserve. They had no intention of moving yet.

  Tonight it seemed foreboding, too silent. Pete, how I wish you were home. I need your comforting presence. Knowing he’d call around ten soothed her. She liked that they talked every day and stayed aware of the daily events in each other’s lives.

  Sarah gathered her trench coat from the seat of her silver BMW. Her two huge yellow labs, Ferdinand and Isabella, recognized the sound of the garage door lifting and bounded to the kitchen door, barking their eager greeting.

  She opened the inside door to the house and pressed her fingers into Ferdinand’s thick fur. “Guess you two will have to do tonight.” Instantly she grounded herself again in the simple things of life she treasured. The dogs had the run of the family room and kitchen in her absence. Every noon a gal from the local dog-sitting service tended them. The labs were as spoiled as her two kids now off on their own. If only they could carry on a conversation.

  Before hanging up her coat, Sarah walked over and turned on the gas starter for the great room fireplace. She shivered as the burst of heat streamed out. When she was home in the evening, she kept the fireplace flaming continuously from November through April. She and Pete loved to sit and read on the loveseat a few feet away. Pete’s crazy schedule made him a homebody. He flew fourteen days a month then worked from their garage on his second career—refurbishing musical instruments. In three years he’d retire.

  Sarah pulled a frozen chicken oriental dinner from the freezer and slit the plastic cover for the microwave before feeding the dogs. Sarah pressed power level and time and enjoyed the familiar beeps that sounded.

  Her thoughts wandered to the European trip Blaine would never take now. Sarah enjoyed her frequent travel on group tours with friends and took long weekends with her sister or a niece. Once or twice a year, she went alone for a self-directed retreat, taking full advantage of her free flight benefits. Pete’s airline company’s finances were shaky. In this uncertain economy, they never knew how long his job or their travel benefits would continue.

  She opened a small, prewashed Caesar salad while the microwave hummed.

  It had surprised Sarah when she read robbery could have been a motive for Blaine’s murder. Sarah wondered again if she should move her jewelry to a safety deposit box, as Pete suggested, due to the increase in recent crime in Cortland City. Yet, she’d rarely wear the beautiful pieces she’d inherited from her grandmother if she had to run back and forth to the bank each time. Besides, the dogs were enough protection, she hoped.

  Beep-beep. Her TV dinner was ready. She opened the micro, pulled the steaming tray out, and slid the dinner onto a plate. Sarah removed the transparent wrap, avoiding the hot steam, as the doorbell rang. The dogs went into an immediate barking frenzy.

  She dropped the potholder, walked to the front room, and peeked through the slats of her blinds.

  The blue-gray logo on a county police car was visible in her driveway. She looked through the door’s side window as the bell rang a second time.

  “Just a minute,” she yelled then realized her voice couldn’t be heard above the dogs. Sarah exhaled loudly and put Ferdinand and Isabella in the utility room before opening the door.

  Chief Chris Bolan strode in, bringing the smell of leaves and a burst of cold air. “Hello, Dr. Stevens. Sorry for the intrusion. I have a few questions. I tried to reach you by phone at your office, but you were with clients, and then I got tied up so I decided to drop by on my way home. I prefer to do primary interviews in person actually.”

  “Primary?”

  “Yes. May I sit down?”

  “Sure.”

  This could only happen in a place like Cortland City, Sarah mused as she led the way into the den. She waved the Chief toward the oversized stuffed sofa and sunk into the adjacent brown leather chair.

  “Nice place.” He scanned the room. “It’s late—I’ll get right to the point.”

  “Please.”

  “You were listed twice on Blaine Cartier’s personal calendar this month. Dr. Stevens, I realize your individual counseling sessions are privileged...”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Still, I believe there are some questions you can answer for me.”

  “Frankly, there’s nothing I know that would be of help in this situation.”

  “I’ll be the best one to decide that.” His tone was friendly but firm. “I had a case once where…”

  “Chief, I haven’t had dinner yet. I know you’ll try to be succinct.”

  He nodded. “I understand you recommended Blaine Cartier for a job and helped her arrange an upcoming trip.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you also contribute some personal funds with or without her knowledge to make her upcoming trip more affordable for her?”

  Sarah jerked her head back. “How did you find out?”

  “We’ve traced a recent direct bank deposit from you through a local charity into her account. Just doing police homework. Surely you don’t do that for all your clients. Perhaps you can answer my questions from the framework of friendship. That should give you more leeway.”

  Nice way to try to help me around client confidentiality. “I want to help any way I can, but I’m keenly aware of privacy obligations to Blaine, too.”

  “I get
that. I’m sure we can work together. Did Blaine Cartier ever express fear for her life? Perhaps threats from her former husband? Or maybe a disgruntled student?”

  “No. Just typical frustration dealing with the ongoing strain of a difficult divorce relationship.”

  “Did she discuss concern for her safety from threats by any friend or other family member?”

  “No.” Sarah’s chest tightened. What a horrible betrayal that would be.

  “To your knowledge was Blaine involved in anything dangerous? Gambling? Drug use? Exorbitant financial loans to pay medical bills?”

  “Now you’re close to the counseling arena. I can sum up by saying I know of nothing that might be threatening to her life.” Sarah’s stomach growled. She patted it. “Anything else?”

  “Almost done.”

  “By the way Chief, I’m confused. Why are you quizzing me about people she knew? Wasn’t this done by an outsider, or perhaps an addict looking for items to sell for drugs whom she innocently opened her door to? I understand a robbery is connected with the crime.”

  The Chief scratched the back of his neck before answering. “Maybe someone wanted to leave that impression. We found no sign of a break-in or a struggle, which we’d expect with a druggie. Nothing of great value was taken. It’s likely Blaine Cartier opened her door wide to allow this murderer to enter her apartment. It’s logical to assume it was someone she knew. Plus, she had two cups setting on her counter.”

  Sarah’s head shot up. “I heard on the news jewelry was stolen.”

  “Only cheap costume stuff. I imagine she’d already sold anything of value to pay her daughter Cindy’s medical expenses.”

  “Of course.” Sarah dropped her eyes—Blaine’s murder was making less sense.

  She looked up and noted the Chief watching her carefully as he asked, “What do you know about Larry Cartier, her ex?”

  “Only that her husband got off easy in the divorce with a small settlement and minimal temporary maintenance.”

  Chief Chris Bolan raised his eyebrows. “Even with the expenses associated with her daughter’s illness?”

  Sarah read his look. “Blaine couldn’t afford a good lawyer, and he had the best. Blaine was considered capable of self-support because of her degrees. Although with her daughter’s illness, she could only teach part time.”

  “Sounds like she had a lot to be despondent over.”

  Sarah decided to ask some questions of her own. “Where was her ex-husband when Blaine was killed?”

  “Officially, none of your business.” The Chief smiled slightly. “Unofficially, he has an alibi. He told my deputy he and his wife were together all day and evening. However, there are no witnesses to corroborate this.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yes. I’ll be interviewing him myself, but I wanted to be sure first that Blaine Cartier never mentioned receiving any threats from him or anyone else, for that matter.”

  “Not that she told me. I would have informed the police in a heartbeat if I thought she were in danger. It’s all so sad.” She turned her face away. “I wonder if Dr. Trindle could add any information. Blaine attended one of her support group sessions.”

  Sarah’s microwave dinner was growing colder by the minute. “Are you finished, Chief?”

  “Except for one last routine question as to your whereabouts. Were you scheduled with clients all day?”

  Sarah stiffened and pulled herself up straighter in her chair. “Not non-stop. I’d blocked out time to work on a workshop I’m presenting. Since I don’t have a full-time receptionist, I guess I don’t have a verifiable alibi. I can’t believe you’re checking.”

  The Chief cleared his throat. “It’s my job to investigate everything. Blaine apparently invited this person into her home and seemed to be preparing to serve coffee for two —as I said, two empty cups were on the counter —and you were her counselor.”

  Sarah started to protest.

  The Chief raised his hand and cut her off. “Fact is, you happen to drive a silver BMW, and a witness saw one in her driveway.”

  Sarah rose abruptly. “Are you finished?”

  “Yes. For now.”

  “I’ll see you out.” Sarah made no effort to hide from Bolan that she was miffed.

  He paused at the door. “Sorry, I’m only doing my job.”

  “Goodbye, Chief Bolan.”

  “Me a murderer?” Sarah spoke aloud, pounded her chest, and scoffed.

  FORTY-FIVE

  “Hi Karen, Pete’s out of town. I need to talk to someone and vent. It’s been a rough day. How about dinner?”

  “Sure, I’m staying in the city tonight. How about O’Hara’s? I can be there by seven.”

  “Perfect.”

  Sarah put down the phone, sighed with relief, and shoved her microwave dinner into the refrigerator. From time to time she battled sadness and frustration in her work, and tonight her emotional pain was off the chart. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. Being a caring counselor wasn’t easy. Talking with colleagues often helped. If she held herself back from empathetic involvement with clients, she couldn’t be effective, but this occasionally took its toll. Her faith helped her immensely, but sometimes she liked to hear words from human lips, too.

  As soon as they’d settled into a booth, Sarah began. “Like I said, it’s been a horrendous day. This morning I recommended parenting classes for a couple complaining about a rebellious seven year old with problems at school. You’d have thought I was sending them to Alcatraz—which might happen to their son in a few years, if these parents don’t begin to discipline wisely.”

  “I know what you mean. I had a dad once become furious when I suggested the source of his children’s misbehavior was lack of discipline.”

  “Whoever said parenting wasn’t hard work? I’m seeing more and more irresponsible parents in recent years.” She sighed. “But something else is troubling me even more tonight.”

  Karen Trindle looked up from the menu she’d been perusing.

  “You heard about the death of Blaine Cartier. I recall discussing that you had her in a group divorce therapy session. I can’t stop thinking about her. Chief Bolan just interrogated me and practically accused me of murder.”

  “What? How ridiculous.”

  “I find her death disturbing enough without this.”

  “The murder of someone you know always is.” Karen sipped from one of the two glasses of water with lemon the waitress had set in front of them.

  Sarah nodded. “I feel so sad for this poor woman. We both know some people prefer to remain in their dysfunction, which is frustrating, but Blaine wasn’t like that. She eagerly committed to make significant life changes. Now she’s dead. The compassion I feel is almost unbearable.”

  “I understand, but you’ll be no good to anyone if you don’t shake this.” Karen dipped a shrimp into cocktail sauce.

  “Having Blaine die when she was moving forward past her pain is so hard.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.” Karen’s tone was gentle. “Much as you’d like to think it.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Don’t you believe she’s happier now?” Karen asked. “I mean, fighting those emotional and economic battles had to be terribly hard. Didn’t she have a ton of debt from Cindy’s illness? She’d spend her life paying that off. And that husband! I recall it nearly tore Blaine apart to speak about his new wife. She would have had countless experiences like that as long as she lived.” Karen snapped her menu shut. “She’s far better off.”

  Sarah inhaled sharply. “How can you say that? I thought you didn’t believe in life after death?”

  The waiter appeared at their booth and interrupted her reply for their dinner selections.

  Karen resumed the conversation. “Not in the Christian sense, but reincarnation sounds very logical to me. No one can be sure.”

  “Blaine had the trip to Paris and London to look forward to. How can you think death c
ould be better?”

  “After Europe, then what? Hadn’t she said she’d never remarry? She’d have been alone forever.”

  “That could have changed. You know most rejected women feel that way at first.”

  “And often make foolish choices on the rebound.” Karen fiddled with the corner of her place mat. “Blaine was wounded deeply. That’s sad but undeniable.”

  Moistness filled Sarah’s eyes. “True, but hopefully not permanently. No matter what happens to upset my day, I have my husband, and you can go home to your Charles and be thankful.”

  Karen busied herself peppering her ribeye steak sandwich. “Hard as it sounds, everyone must die sometime, and living in an emotionally devastated state is no fun. We both did the best we could for her. That’s what you must tell yourself, and let it go.”

  “I can’t bear to think of the violent circumstances in which she died.” Sarah shivered.

  “We all need to be more vigilant with the escalating crime level. Do you have a good security system? I hope so. You’re alone so much.”

  Sarah added more olive oil to her salad. “Chief Bolan made me angry with his questions, speaking as if I’d done it.”

  “I imagine he suspects everyone.” Karen paused and stared off for a moment. “Was there anything helpful in what you told the Chief?”

  “No, I wish I knew something. Can you think of any enemy Blaine had? I wonder about her husband. I never met him.”

  “Nor did I, but Larry didn’t sound like the aggressive type. Based on the little she shared, I’d surmise he was rather passive and weak. Does that fit a murderer’s profile?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never researched personality traits of a killer. Can you believe we’re talking about this?” Sarah buttered a breadstick lightly.

  She described the Chief’s visit in more detail and rehashed Blaine’s background, ending with a shake of her head. “I wish I could come up with a motive.”

  “I’d place my bet on her husband. I imagine he’s dealing with guilt stuff like Edward Langley, and perhaps deep vindictiveness.” Karen wiped the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin.