Haunting Refrain Read Online Free PDF Page A

sidestepping the potholes, reveling in the cool of the late September morning.
      Gradually, her muscles loosened and the tension slipped away. At a long, uninterrupted stretch of road, she opened up, running flat out until she reached the main intersection. She loved the exhilarating burst of speed, the feeling of flying.
    Slowing to an easy lope for the last mile, she completed her loop in good time. Two blocks from home, as she dropped to a cooling walk, she saw Venice 's Cadillac idling on the street in front of the house.
    Venice stepped out of the car and, like a scarlet macaw surveying sparrows’ nests, stood for a moment gazing at the drab street and decaying houses. She gave a faint shake of her head before waving a bakery bag as she joined Kate on the front steps. “I wish you would move to a nicer area, Kate. I'm afraid to get out of my car until I see you.”
    “It's cheap. When I get rich, I'll move.” Kate eyed Venice 's bag. It did smell good. A peace offering, probably. Kate hadn't completely forgiven her for calling that reporter. “Why are you here at this hour?”
    Venice , ignoring the question, studied her through narrowed eyes. “You haven't been sleeping much, have you?”
    “So-so.” Kate glared suspiciously over her shoulder at Venice as she unlocked the door. There had to be a reason for the woman to be here this early. “What do you want, Venice ?”
    “Have you seen the morning paper?” Venice asked as she followed her into the house.
    “No.” Kate spun around and stared at Venice . A chill ran down her back. “Why?”
    “Well,” Venice said, taking a folded newspaper from her bag. “John has an article on Kelly Landrum this morning.”
    “How bad is it? Did he use my name?”
    “It wasn't a very interesting article. I doubt if anyone will read it.”
    “ Venice !”
    “Yes, he did,” she admitted. “But only at the very end.” A gray wisp, still threaded with brown, peeked out from under the auburn curls. “If you had been a little nicer, I'm sure he would have written more about us.”
    “If you had told me he worked for the newspaper, I would never have spoken to him at all,” Kate said. “He could have at least mentioned it, the swine.”
    Venice refused to see him in the same light. “It wasn't his fault.” Looking away from Kate, she touched the back of her hand to her left eyebrow.
    “ Venice , you can drop the drama. I’m not mad anymore. Let's see the article. If I'm going to be burned at the stake, I want to be prepared.”
    “Don't be silly. Ever since you married that nitwit, you’ve been paranoid about the press.” She held out the paper to Kate. “Here. Read it yourself.”
    “They made my life miserable,” Kate said.
    “Don’t whine, Kate. It’s unbecoming. J. B. made your life miserable. He was the one who thought the press found him irresistible and watched his every move—and yours.”
    “Well, it’s over now. I just want it to stay that way. I don’t want any involvement with the news media in any shape or form.” She folded back the paper to read. The headline caught her eye immediately . coed still missing, no leads . Guilt made her wince. Martin had been after her to call the police. Still, what could she have told them?
    Kate put the paper down long enough to pour coffee and bring napkins for the pastries. Then she settled on the sofa beside Venice . Finishing the sweet roll and the article at the same time, she said, “There's nothing new here. Maybe no one will read it.”
    “That's just what I said—no one will read it.” Venice still sounded disappointed.
    Refolding the paper, Kate dropped it on the coffee table, thinking about Kelly Landrum. She couldn’t imagine what caused her reaction to the sweatband. Why? Was it because, by perspiring into the band, the girl's aura inhabited it so strongly? Could they possibly help find her? And how?
    “Yes, dear. I believe we can help her.”
    “ Dammit , Venice ! I hate it when