Free Her Dying Breath by Rita Herron Page B

inside, but the dark colors and lines, the image of the black tunnel out of which the little girl was reaching for someone to pull her out, sent a shiver up her spine.
    Today she noticed another canvas against the wall—an erotic portrayal of a couple engaged in disturbing sex acts.
    No doubt some of the paintings were therapeutic, probably renditions of the horror Amelia had suffered at Blackwood’s hands.
    But the S & M? Was that Amelia’s preference in sex? If so…it made her a viable suspect in the strangling death at the motel.
    “Do you want some tea, or something else to drink?” Amelia asked.
    “Whatever you’re having is fine,” Brenda said.
    Amelia smiled, walked over to the L-shaped kitchen, and poured them both a glass of iced tea. Brenda’s gaze strayed from the dark, haunting paintings to another of two little girls holding their dolls in front of a Christmas tree. The girls were twins, obviously Amelia and Sadie. A happy memory.
    Brenda had always wanted a sister; now she understood the reason she’d never had one.
    “I saw you on television,” Amelia said, drawing Brenda’s thoughts back to the reason for her visit. “You told the story about the Commander. And then you were at that motel.”
    “Yes, I’m working with the TV news crew now.” Brenda hesitated, carefully constructing her thoughts. “Amelia, I know you suffered terribly from what Arthur Blackwood did to you.”
    A haunted look flashed across Amelia’s face, her smile fading. “I don’t like to talk about him.”
    Brenda sipped her tea, willing herself not to react as the image of the dead man crept into her head. Amelia seemed so calm now, so desperate for a friend, not like a killer.
    “I understand that,” Brenda said. “And I don’t blame you. But I’d like to help.”
    Amelia wiped at the condensation on the outside of her glass. “How can you help?”
    “I’d like to do a personal in-depth profile on you, tell your side of the story and explain what Commander Blackwood did to you, so people will understand.”
    Amelia jerked her head from side to side. “Sadie wouldn’t like that.”
    “Maybe I can talk to her,” Brenda said. “Assure her I won’t disparage you or your family. You deserve for everyone to know that you’re not crazy, that Blackwood messed with your mind.”
    “I’m not crazy,” Amelia said, her tone sharpening. “You can’t say I am.”
    Brenda touched Amelia’s hand. “I know you’re not—that’s why I want you to tell me what happened to you. Sometimes it’s cathartic for victims if they confront their abusers.”
    Amelia shot up from the sofa and paced over to stand in front of the picture window that overlooked the mountains. “No, no, no—I just want to forget what happened.”
    “All right,” Brenda said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
    Amelia traced her finger over the windowpane, relaxing slightly. Outside, the wind chimes swayed and tinkled, making Brenda wonder why Amelia had so many of them.
    “I stopped by to visit yesterday, but you weren’t here,” Brenda said softly. “Where did you go, Amelia?”
    Amelia’s eyes darted back and forth from her to the wind chimes. “I can’t tell you that.”
    Brenda set her glass on a coaster on the table. “Why not?”
    “Because it’s personal,” Amelia said, lifting her chin.
    Brenda removed her phone, walked over, and showed the screen to Amelia. “Someone sent me a text, Amelia. I thought it might be from you.”
    Amelia reluctantly took the phone and read the text.
    “Did you send this?” Brenda asked again.
    Suddenly the door opened, and Sadie and Jake barreled in. “Don’t say anything to her, Amelia,” Jake said.
    “What are you doing here, Brenda?” Sadie rushed to her sister like a mother bear protecting her cub.
    Brenda’s defenses rose. “I just wanted to talk to Amelia,” Brenda said.
    Sadie rubbed Amelia’s back. “Are you okay, sis?”
    Amelia nodded, a confused expression clouding