Dark Whispers Read Free

Drummond faced, real or imagined, Jess would see that she received the help she needed.
    No one should have to fight her demons alone.

Chapter Two
    Southwood Road Mountain Brook 6:00 p.m.
    Clint pulled into the driveway behind Natalie Drummond. He surveyed the place she called home and blew out a long, low whistle. If the lady lived here—the estate looked more like a castle than a home—then she was loaded. He should have realized she was related to the Drummonds of Birmingham.
    He climbed out of his Audi and strolled up to her BMW as she opened the door. When she emerged her lips tilted the slightest bit with a shaky smile. “I appreciate you being able to start right away. I was afraid it would be days or even weeks before I could retain the services I needed.”
    “I’ll work as quickly as possible to get to the bottom of the trouble, Ms. Drummond. No one should be afraid in their own home.” Even if it was large enough to host the next governor’s summit.
    “You should call me Natalie.” She exhaled a big breath and sent a worried glance back at the street.
    “Natalie,” he repeated. “As long as you call me Clint.”
    She nodded, and then led the way to the front door. When she fished the keys from her bag, he reached for them. “Why don’t I go in first?”
    Obviously relieved, she turned over the keys.
    As he opened the door the first detail he noted was the lack of a warning from the security system. “You don’t arm your system when you leave the house?”
    “With all that happened this morning, I suppose I forgot.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Like I said, I didn’t go back in the house after the police left. I couldn’t.”
    He handed the keys back to her, placed a hand at the small of her back and ushered her across the threshold. He surveyed the entry hall. The ceiling soared high above a grand balcony on the second floor. A large painting hung on the broad expanse of wall that flanked the ornate staircase. He recognized Natalie as a child of around ten or twelve in the painting.
    “My family,” she said, following his gaze. “My parents are both gone now. There’s my younger sister, April, and my older brother, Heath. Heath runs the family business and April is a trophy wife who specializes in fund-raising.” She said the last with something less than pride as she placed her purse and keys on a table near the door. “The kitchen is on the right at the end of the hall. That’s where...it happened.”
    Clint hesitated, the sticky notes on the mirror above the hall table snagging his attention. There were several yellow notes and one pink one. Leave the keys and your purse here. Lock the door. Arm the security system. The pink note read Check the peephole before opening the door.
    “I don’t need them as much as I used to,” she said with a noticeable resignation in her tone. “My short-term memory gets better every day.” She locked the door. “It’s certain parts of my long-term memory that still have a few too many holes.”
    He gestured to the notes. “This was part of the process of getting back into your normal routine?”
    She nodded. “I’m not sure anything about my routine will ever be called normal again, but I manage.”
    “I imagine the journey has been a challenging one.” Clint moved toward the kitchen. “Back at the office you said your sister spent a great deal of time helping you get back on your feet?”
    “She stayed with me every night for the first year. When she wasn’t with me there was a nurse.” A weary sigh escaped her lips. “For ten months I was fine on my own, and then...the voices started. April stays the night whenever I need her despite my brother-in-law’s insistence that he needs his wife at home.”
    “Your brother-in-law is...?”
    “David Keating, the son of Birmingham’s new mayor, who sees himself as governor one day. He’s running for state representative and insists that April should be at his side at all