Whispers in the Rain

By Sue Thornton

When Deina Hauschild's mother was murdered three years earlier, the authorities were convinced they'd caught and convicted the right man, but Deina's not so sure. Just like before, the ominous phone calls come whenever it rains, the whispering voice warning… Now Deina is being stalked. With the help of her best friend, Micah Day, Deina solves the murder of a young girl at the community playhouse. The identity of the mystery lady who keeps appearing, then disappears into thin air brings Deina together with loved ones she thought lost forever, and straight into Micah's arms.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9781590883204

Book preview

Whispers In The Rain

by

Sue Thornton

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Romantic Suspense Novel

Edited by: Leslie Hodges

Copy Edited by: Elizabeth Struble

Senior Editor: Elizabeth Struble

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Christine Poe

All rights reserved

NAMES, CHARACTERS AND incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

Copyright © 2004 by Sue Thornton

ISBN  978-1-59088-320-4

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS  67114

Dedication

WE MAKE OUR OWN FATE; which is both free will and destiny. I can rewrite my fate. So does that really make it fate? Yes, because it is something that is many steps from where I am now on the path.

Matthew Landis—Summer 2002

I would like to thank, from the bottom of my heart, Rob McKertzer, Director of the Lincoln Community Playhouse—best wishes on your move to Pennsylvania, Sue Schrieber, Stage Manager, Sylvie, the wonderful music director, and Karen Wills, choreographer. They took the time to talk me through the auditions, and casting for the crew of Will Roger’s Follies. I applaud all of you for an excellent job.

And no, Rob, no one has been killed by the director. Yet.

Matt, thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to talk with me. One of the blessings I’ve been given in this life is to have my world touched by yours, however briefly. As always, I am certain I was meant to meet you.

As always, my faithful sounding boards, Liz, Sandy, Cindy, Deputy Terry Jones, and Ethan Jensen. Where would I be without you?

One

Aaron Hauschild drove into the driveway and parked behind his daughter’s SUV. Deina stepped from the vehicle and waited for him to join her.

She grinned. Hey, Dad, what brings you all the way out here?

I thought I’d see if I could catch my favorite daughter at home. He draped his arm around her shoulder. Besides, your grandma’s been hounding me to bring you something she spotted in the newspaper.

Deina wrapped her arm around his waist. How about a tall glass of water?

Could I have a twist of lemon? he teased.

You betcha. She looked up at him, her dark blue eyes almost purple.

You’ve got a date. He chuckled and placed a kiss on her forehead. Aaron studied the young woman who had changed his and Lorna’s lives a few years earlier.

The dimples in both her cheeks tugged at his heart. It was a long time after she came to live with them before he ever saw them. Now, she smiled showing her even white teeth and the mischief that danced freely in her eyes.

Anything exciting happen at work today? he asked.

Suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes. Was there supposed to be?

He tugged on the waist length French braid hanging down her back. Nope, just curious.

You’re on vacation, Dad, leave the bad guys to the rest of us saps for a few days.

He followed her along the winding path to the house on the cliff facing the ocean. Old habits die hard, kitten, you know that.

Deina unlocked the glass-fronted door and opened it, releasing the fresh scent of lavender and rosemary.

How’s Grandmother doing? She changed the subject.

Missing her granddaughter something fierce, he replied.

Deina walked through the open living area to the kitchen. I live closer now than I did in Chicago.

Aaron sat on a barstool at the counter while she prepared two glasses of mineral water with lemon. She knows that, honey, but she still misses you being home every day. He paused. We both do.

Deina set the frosted glass in front of him. She didn’t want to bring the subject up again that Grandmother never really made her feel welcome in the huge, monstrous house. A house that seemed cold, no matter what the temperature. I miss it, too, but it was time to be out on my own.

He snorted. Chicago wasn’t enough for you?

Deina rested a hand over his. I’m twenty minutes away, Daddy, not twenty hours. All Grandmother has to do is pick up the phone. I’ll come.

Aaron nodded and ducked his head. I know, it’s just after what happened in Chicago we hate to have you out here alone, without any neighbors.

I’m fine. You and Grandmother don’t need to worry so much. Manny Varga is in prison where he belongs. They won’t be releasing him anytime soon. She squeezed his hand. What did Grandmother want me to see?

He removed a news clipping from his shirt pocket. The playhouse is holding auditions for the fall play. Grandma thinks you should try out.

Deina removed the gun from her shoulder holster and placed it in the cupboard, locking the cabinet behind her.

She smiled grimly at the paper on the counter top. I haven’t done a play since... She glanced at him, then back at the announcement. "I don’t know that I can do it again."

Aaron touched her hand. You need to close the door, kitten, and move on. You can’t bury yourself.

She interrupted, anger coloring her face. Like we buried Mom? I’m not ready to lose someone else because of me.

He stood and walked around the cabinet. Deina, your mom didn’t die because of anything you did, but by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He ran his hand over her straight, silky black hair, marveling at the blue highlights that reminded him of a raven’s wing. Deina was magical. She’d bewitched him and Lorna the minute she set foot in their house when she was only sixteen.

You don’t have to decide right now, honey, just think about it.

She nodded and hugged him. Tell Grandmother I’ll be by for Sunday dinner.

Aaron kissed her cheek. I’d like to tell her you’ll be there in time to go to church with us. He sighed at the look she shot him. I guess not. Maybe someday. He let the subject drop, not wanting to rile the fierce stubbornness for which Deina was known.

Your mom was so proud of you. The first time we heard you sing, our hearts stopped. We never wanted to hear anything else.

Deina’s mouth tightened into a thin line. And every time I try to sing I can only hear Mom scream. Nothing else... just her scream. She turned away from her father. If only she had heard her mother scream, maybe she would be alive today. But Mom never made a sound. Deina still wondered if she kept silent in an attempt to keep her daughter safe.

Aaron’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Tears for his beloved Lorna, dead and buried these long, lonely three years, and tears for his only child who blamed herself for her mother’s unnecessary death.

DEINA KICKED OFF THE black leather pumps encasing her feet and tucked her legs in the lotus position when she sat on the wooden porch swing her dad built. Together they had hung the swing on the cement slab porch overlooking the small, fenced in grassy area leading to the cliff.

She clutched the announcement from the White Cliff Weekly in her hand and stared out at the waves. The sound of the water lapping at the rocks along the shore usually soothed and relaxed her, but not this time.

Anger and fear buried in deep recesses surfaced. She wadded the paper into a tight ball and dropped it into a nearby planter. No matter what her family told her or how much she loved to sing and act she would never put another person in jeopardy like she had her mother.

Unwrapping her legs, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. Her thoughts turned to the doubt she still had about the person imprisoned for the murder of her mother.

Deep in her heart she knew Elmo had found her and punished her by killing the only woman she recognized as her mother. The fact that Lorna Hauschild’s death was so brutal made every cop instinct Deina had cry out ‘wrong victim’. How could she tell her father that she alone was to blame for that night? Varga was guilty of stalking, breaking and entering along with other petty crimes, but not murder. It wasn’t his style...

She lifted a glass of ice-cold water with lemon to her forehead. Varga’s case was airtight—he’d been caught with the weapon, the blood stains on his clothes and the DNA match was solid.

What continued to bother Deina was Lorna’s body was found in Deina’s bed—not the guestroom—but Deina’s room.

How had anyone ever thought Elmo’s children would ever be free of him? Frustration pushed Deina up from the swing and into her shoes.

A pretty young woman with copper colored curls appeared on the path along the cliff. Deina stared across the lawn, afraid to call out to her. The woman stood too close to the edge of the cliff. If she weren’t careful, and Deina startled her, she could go over the side.

Slowly, Deina made her way along the front walk toward the gate. Spikes of delphinium and larkspur were as tall as the white picket fence. Excuse me, she spoke softly, in an attempt to keep from alarming the woman. Large, round green eyes filled with fright stared back at her when the woman turned to face her.

You’re too close to the edge, I don’t want you to fall. Where do you live? I haven’t seen you around here before, Deina spoke carefully.

A gust of wind blew in from the water, bringing with it the scent of saltwater. The woman opened her mouth as if she planned to speak. Deina cried out when the woman disappeared into thin air. She threw open the gate and rushed to the cliff, certain the mysterious visitor had fallen over the side. She searched the area carefully. Deina couldn’t find any sign of the stranger.

Deina paused to catch her breath. Great. Now I’m seeing things, she muttered.

She refused to think of Elmo, Varga, the play, or the imaginary woman any longer. A trip to the Blue Ribbon would wash away the hateful mood she was in today.

DEINA PLOPPED DOWN on the red vinyl stool in front of the soda fountain where Micah leaned against the counter.

What will it be for you this evening? he asked.

She placed her purse on the counter next to her. Make it a double.

Micah cocked an eyebrow. Foul mood tonight, huh?

She sighed. You don’t even want to know.

He rested his elbows on the counter top and peered at her. Would you care for anything else?

She sighed again. How about my usual?

Coming up. He stepped back and reached up on a shelf. When he turned, he handed her a couple of aspirin and a glass of water.

She smiled. Thanks, Micah.

Be right back. He tapped the red and white Formica counter and walked through the swinging door to the kitchen.

Deina pressed the bridge of her nose between a thumb and index finger, urging the pounding in her head to go away. How she would love to have a neck massage to ease the stress building along the base of her skull.

Double espresso. Micah set the cup of steaming black coffee in front of her.

She looked up to see his nose wrinkled in disgust.

I don’t know how you can drink that stuff, he commented.

This is the only place I can find that makes it the way I like it, so you should feel honored.

Micah removed a deck of cards from under the counter. It’s a real privilege to watch you after the jolt of caffeine hits. He shuffled the cards. An even better one is when you’ve ‘OD’d’ on the cholesterol from a double cheeseburger and fries.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. Which is cooking in the kitchen, right?

Yes, ma’am, that would be correct. You can cut the deck while I go check on your meal. He pushed the ball cap back on his sandy colored curls.

Deina tapped a fingernail on the top card. The bell above the door jingled, breaking her concentration. She glanced up at a mirror located in the corner and smiled. Josie Garcia and her boyfriend of eight years came every Thursday night for a banana split before a movie at Turner’s.

Micah returned with a plate laden with hot, greasy French fries and the requested double cheeseburger. You haven’t cut the cards yet.

She rested the palm of her hand over the stack and glanced up at him. I was just wondering how we got started doing this.

Micah rubbed the close-cropped, sandy colored beard covering his face. Seems to me it was when I met you the first time you came to visit your grandma. You wouldn’t talk to me any other way. He tapped the top of her hand. You still won’t, so cut the cards.

Deina stared at him a moment longer. Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know?

I did ask, but with the cards, I can keep you guessing on what my next question might be. He winked at her.

Deina cut the deck then picked up a French fry. So?

He shrugged. Same question as a few minutes ago. Foul mood tonight? I’m wondering why.

Deina picked up another fry and studied the thick strip of golden potato. Dad stopped by... She paused, unsure if she really wanted to discuss the subject with her friend. She wiped her fingers and removed the pager vibrating at her waist.

MICAH HANDED HER HIS phone. It was a rare occasion for Deina not to be paged while at the diner. He slid a pen and order pad in front of her.

Her long slender fingers poised over the paper and scrawled an address across the green slip. Over the years he’d watched Deina Hauschild change from a quiet, tough, lonely girl into a beautiful, introspective woman who just happened to be one of the best cops in White Cliff.

She clicked off the phone and laid it on the counter. I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later. She pulled out a bill from the pocket of her slacks and tossed it onto the counter.

Micah called out to her. Be careful.

The bell tinkled as the door opened and shut behind her. He fingered the Queen of Hearts she had turned over. The front door jerked open and Deina stuck her head in.

I’ve got two flat tires, can you help me out? she announced in a cool, calm voice.

Micah grabbed a set of keys from under the counter. Yes, ma’am. He flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ in the window, and turned the lock before glancing over at the only customers in the diner. Hey, Josie, would you turn off the lights before you leave?

The woman smiled and waved. Sure thing.

You don’t need to take me, Micah, Deina argued as she ran alongside him in order to keep up with his long stride.

The old girl is a little temperamental at times and I can’t guarantee you two would get along.

Deina snorted and climbed into the front seat of his pickup. You make it sound like this heap of steel bolts is a jealous lover.

Micah turned to her in sincerity. Well, she has been with me longer than any other female, he paused, except my Grandma.

She stared at him while he started the vehicle. And whose choice has that been? If you weren’t so darned picky about your idea of an ideal mate, and have dreams about a goddess that doesn’t exist...

Micah pushed in the clutch and threw the truck in reverse. She exists. She just doesn’t know I’m here yet. Where are we going?

Out to the old Rutherford place on Salt Lick Road. Loud party in progress, she mumbled and fastened her seat belt.

Micah slammed on his brakes. You’re off duty and they have you going on a disturbing the peace call?

Deina bit her lip. I’m a cop, Micah. There’s been a serious accident on Route 101. Most of the guys are on the scene. It isn’t as if I had anything else going on.

He frowned at her. "Yeah, you did, dinner and talking to me. Why should your life be any less important than anyone else’s?"

She pointed at the road. May we go now before I get called a second time? Staring out the window, she wondered at Micah’s anger. I’m a good cop. She straightened in the seat and turned toward him. "No, I’m a damn good cop, and I love my job."

She rolled her shoulders. Besides, when we get back I know you’ll still hound me with your questions and if you’ll be nice, I’ll let you make me another burger.

Let me? he chuckled. You’re only allowed one meal a week like that and you just had it.

Her mouth dropped with a gasp. That’s not fair. I didn’t get to eat it.

Her pager went off again and she rummaged in her purse for her cell phone. After punching the preprogrammed number, she waited for someone to answer.

Hauschild, she paused. I’m on my way. Could you have someone go to the Blue Ribbon and look at my vehicle? I somehow managed to damage my tires, two flat and a third one is losing air. Thanks. She flipped the mouthpiece back in place. I need you to go a little faster. The neighbors are complaining about the kids running across the yards.

MICAH TURNED THE TRUCK into the curved driveway and rolled to a stop outside the sprawling ranch house. He jumped from the driver’s seat and followed Deina to the house.

He was surprised to see the shoulder holster slipped back into place, along her left side, and the large .9mm gun tucked neatly inside it. Do you really think you’ll need that? he asked.

Her badge was slipped over her belt, and she glanced at him. I hope not, but you never know. Underage kids, a keg or two, absent parents. Why don’t you stay here, this shouldn’t take too long.

Micah nodded and stepped back while Deina pounded on the door. A teenage girl flung the storm door open. Oh, shit, she muttered and stood to one side.

Micah peered in at the crowd of kids laughing and dancing inside. He followed Deina, the scent of beer powerful in the entrance.

Where’s Meister? Deina called over the noise.

In the other room, the girl replied.

A boy stuck his head out of the living room. Hey, Meister told us to come out back. He’s got a surprise for us.

The girl glanced at Deina. I’d say I’ve got one for him, too.

The boy’s face took on a look of panic and he scurried from the room. Deina and Micah followed the crowd of kids to the back yard. Some of the teenagers hurried toward the front of the house when she acknowledged them.

I just wanted to thank all of you for coming to my birthday party, called Meister.

A girl cried in panic, What are you doing?

The explosion that filled the air was followed by screams and shouts from the group of young people.

Deina pulled her weapon. Get down, she yelled at the children still standing, and wove her way through the crowd, pushing some of the kids toward the ground.

Her nerves hummed with urgency as she scanned the area until her gaze landed on a body lying on the ground. Two young men lay sprawled approximately five feet from the body. They were lying on their stomachs, their heads arched up, staring at their friend.

Deina hurried toward them and knelt between them. Are either of you hurt?

No, one replied shakily. He just... oh, shit. The boy raised himself onto his knees and vomited.

Deina moved cautiously toward the body of Scott Meister. Even though she could tell from the back yard lights he’d taken off the back of his head with one shot, she squatted and felt for a pulse in his neck. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for the boy’s soul.

Slowly rising to her feet, she turned back to the sobbing group of kids. I want all of you to go into the house and stay there. Micah, she called. She edged her way back toward the building, waving the classmates toward the warmth and security the well-lit rooms offered.

She removed the cell phone from her pocket where she’d tucked it earlier and placed her weapon back in the holster. She rubbed her forehead with the back of one hand. She turned toward where she’d left the party host.

This is Hauschild. I need assistance at the old Rutherford Residence on Salt Lick Road. Requesting a sheriff for a coroner call, the wagon and any available personnel.

Micah tucked a hysterical girl against his chest. Deina’s heart ached to comfort each of the witnesses, but she had work to do. Would you keep all of them inside until I can talk to them?

He nodded, his eyes averted from the bloody scene before him.

Don’t let them say anything to each other about what happened. We’ll have them call home for a ride after we’ve talked with them, she ordered.

He turned the girl toward the house and led her along with other small groups of upset teenagers.

Deina turned back to the two boys who had been lying on the ground. One was helping the sick one to his feet.

Deina moved toward them. Tell me what happened.

He lifted the shotgun to his chin and pulled the trigger. Jeez, all that blood, the other boy whispered.

The boy, who had gotten sick, gagged and covered his mouth.

Deina put her arm around his shoulder. Is that what you saw?

The boy nodded and leaned forward.

I want you to go inside, don’t talk to anyone about what you saw. I’ll be in as soon as I can to take your statement. She squeezed the boy’s arm. Then you can call your parents and have them come get you.

Carefully, she glanced around the yard to make certain everyone had left the area.

DEINA STOOD IN THE living room doorway and stared at the grieving family of eighteen-year-old Scott Meister. The family had been out of town at an ice-skating competition for their youngest daughter, Katie. She sighed and turned to leave. There wasn’t anymore for her to do here.

Micah waited outside the front door of the brick house, his back resting against the wall. He straightened and fell into step next to her while they walked down the driveway.

You okay? she asked, weariness washing over her. A long, hot shower sounded wonderful right now.

No, he replied in his quiet, soft-spoken manner. I don’t understand what causes people to take their own lives. You heard those kids, no one saw it coming. He peered at her. How about you, are you okay?

She took a deep breath. No.

Micah reached out and took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

Two

Micah looked over at Deina. Dark lashes fanned across high cheekbones, which were usually flushed a rosy color, but tonight her face appeared ghostly pale in the weak street light.

He hated to wake her but he’d parked the truck outside the diner ten minutes earlier. He contemplated the scene he’d witnessed earlier and wondered how she could stand her job. No wonder she was in a foul mood so often.

My family wants me to audition for the winter play, she spoke quietly.

Micah jerked and gaped at her. Deina’s eyes were still closed and the thought she talked in her sleep crept across his mind.

I haven’t done any acting for three years, she continued.

Why? he asked, more than a little surprised she was talking to him without having the words pried out of her.

She let out a deep breath. Her hands twitched in her lap. "I used to do plays now and then in Chicago at a little theater not far from the police station. I was chosen to do the female lead in The King and I. Mom and Dad were supposed to come to see the show the week before it ended."

She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. Only Dad got sick and Mom came by herself.

Insight into where this conversation was leading dawned on Micah. That’s when your mom was killed by a mugger.

It wasn’t a mugger, Micah. Mom was murdered in my bed. We’d been talking after the show and she fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her, so I went to the guest room instead.

Micah leaned toward her. You think you were the one targeted and your mom was in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Deina opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. Yes.

And you think her death had something to do with the play?

Yes... no... I don’t know. She rubbed her forehead. I need to get home. Thanks for all your help tonight.

She stepped from the truck and walked to her vehicle. Damn, she muttered.

So much for them fixing your tires, he said behind her. Come on, I’ll take you home.

Deina placed her hand on his arm. You need to get to bed, you’ve got to be at work earlier than I do. I’ll call George.

Micah laughed. You might have to wait a couple of hours. You don’t know where he’s at.

She smiled. Two taxi drivers in town and you never know if you’ll find a ride.

Let me take you home, he pressed. I won’t let you sleep out here in your car, the nights are getting too cool. He grinned at her. Or you could stay at my place.

Deina raised her eyebrows at him, then peered back at his truck. "And what would she say about