Free Dying Scream by Mary Burton Page A

baby. Maybe no child should be forgotten. I do know I’ll go through every box and slip of paper in this house looking for any clue that might tell me what happened to her.”
    “Can I help?”
    “Thanks. Really. But I’ve got to do this on my own.”
     
    Gage got into the car, backtracked to the main house, and stopped behind an Audi parked behind Adrianna’s Land Rover. He scrutinized the extra car. The last thing he wanted was more people on the property.
    Sighing, he shifted his gaze to the house. It wasn’t large by today’s standards but despite the neglect, it was built well, no doubt the nails handmade and the support joists notched individually. Quality. Simple lines like he preferred.
    Lots of overgrown plants crept up the brick and mortar and a couple of windows on the top floor had been knocked out with rocks. The place looked like it had been vacant for years and in need of attention.
    As much as he admired the construction, places like this made the muscles in his back tighten. Maybe because when he’d been a kid in the trailer park, he’d once dreamed of having a fancy house. Maybe because when he’d signed with the Falcons he’d just placed a bid on a fine house he would later relinquish. Shit. Maybe he just didn’t trust the types born with silver spoons. They liked to believe they lived by a different set of rules. That consequences didn’t apply.
    Adrianna Barrington Thornton was from the silver spoon world. He doubted she’d ever broken a sweat or one of her pretty nails.
    Gage climbed the front steps, noting the way the boards creaked. He crossed the wide front porch to the door, which was ajar. Instead of knocking, he walked into the foyer. The place smelled of mothballs and dust, and though the windows were open, the poor light and dank feeling made it easy to forget that it was a sunny day. Like a damn morgue, he thought as he moved down the center hallway and his polished boots creaked on darkened pine floors.
    He glanced in the first big room on his right. It was a parlor. Sheets covered the furniture, and the portraits that had hung on the walls had been removed. The only traces of them were the faded outlines on the walls. Somewhere a clock ticked.
    He moved in a room on the left and saw that the pictures had been moved in there and crated. Gage sauntered out of the room and down the center hallway. When he reached the door he peered inside and saw Adrianna speaking to another woman. “Excuse me.”
    Adrianna and the woman turned. He swallowed a curse when he saw Kendall Shaw Warwick’s face. Boss’s wife. Ex-reporter. Trouble. His emotions must have registered on his face because Adrianna’s pale eyes mirrored faint amusement.
    “Detective Hudson. You know my sister, Kendall Shaw Warwick.”
    Seeing them together, the family resemblance was unmistakable. Kendall’s coloring was darker, her skin tones more olive. Adrianna was blond, her complexion as pale as cream. Kendall was a knockout but Adrianna was the one that ignited his blood. “Ms. Warwick.”
    “Detective.”
    “Ms. Warwick, if you don’t mind, I have a few questions for Ms. Barrington.”
    Adrianna shifted, her amusement vanishing. “Sure.”
    Kendall picked up on the shift in her sister’s mood and her gaze glanced quickly between them. She seemed to detect a crackle of tension that extended far beyond this case. “My, my.”
    Adrianna shot Kendall an embarrassed glance that warned her to be quiet.
    Kendall smiled. “Adrianna, if you’re okay, I’ll leave you two alone.”
    “Thanks, Kendall. I’m good.”
    “Too bad I’m not a reporter anymore, Detective Hudson.” The comment was designed to rattle. “I’d take this story national.”
    Gage blocked Kendall’s exit. “This stays under wraps for now, Ms. Warwick.”
    Kendall’s gaze didn’t waver. “That an order?”
    Gage held her glare, willing to go toe to toe with her. He didn’t care if she was the president’s wife. “A request,