The symptoms troubled her, but Olivia had assured her that they were normal for her age and condition.Her aunt accepted that at first.She trusted her caregiver, believed Olivia had her best interests at heart.
But the entries continued as months passed.Celia Ann wrote about feeling off in ways she couldn't describe.She mentioned confusion that frightened her, moments when she couldn't remember conversations or appointments.She wondered if her medications were right, if something had been changed without her knowledge.
She had tried to call her doctor but learned she hadn't been seen in months, despite Olivia claiming otherwise.She had asked questions about her medications but received only reassurances that everything was correct.She had reached out to friends and mentioned her concerns, but no one had connected the dots.
The final entries, dated just two weeks before her death, were the hardest to read.She wrote about fear she couldn't explain, a sense that something was terribly wrong even though she couldn't prove it.She mentioned leaving instructions with her attorney, just in case.She hoped someone would ask questions if anything happened to her.
Her aunt had known—not the specifics, but she had sensed thatsomethingwas wrong.She had documented her experience, hoping someone would discover the truth.
Cadie went through the entries a second time, more slowly.She noted dates, symptoms, and discrepancies between what Olivia had told her aunt and what the records showed.The pattern was clear.The journal was evidence.Combined with the pharmacy records Barrett had found and the observations from the music community, it painted a picture that was impossible to ignore.
Cadie needed to share the new information with Barrett.She reached for her phone and typed a message:When will you return to the hotel?
She stared at the screen, waiting.A minute passed, then two.Finally, his response appeared:Before dinner.Learning a lot.
She held back from asking more.Whatever he'd learned, he would share it when they were together.
Chapter 10
Throughout the day, Barrett thought about Cadie.Images of the way she'd kissed him in the car stayed in his thoughts.Before dinner he went to her room and knocked, hearing her footsteps approach on the other side.
The door opened and Cadie stood before him in pale green pants and a soft, cream-colored sweater.The sweater draped across her shoulders in a way that was effortlessly elegant.Her dark hair was down, falling in loose waves past her shoulders, and she wore minimal makeup.She looked alluring in a way that had nothing to do with trying and everything to do with who she was.
"Hi," she said.
Barrett smiled."Ready?"
She grabbed her bag from just inside the door and stepped into the hallway.As they walked toward the stairs, Barrett reached for her hand.When he wrapped his fingers around hers, she didn't pull away.
They crossed the small parking lot to his car.Barrett opened her door, waited for her to slide in, then walked around to the driver's side.
When he started the engine, Cadie turned to him."Where are we going?"
"To hear music," Barrett said.
"As part of the investigation?"
"Nope."He pulled into the street."You've been taken away from your music.I want to relax with you and enjoy the local entertainment at Prohibition."
Cadie's face brightened."I've been there many times, but not for a while."She looked out the window."The bar was named as a nod to the 1920s speakeasy of the same name."
"I remember," Barrett said.
The drive was short, and Cadie was quiet during the ride.Barrett didn't ask her any questions yet.He preferred to wait until they were settled and wouldn't be interrupted.There was a lot to discuss, but he didn't need to rush it.
Prohibition was in a building with a dark wood façade and vintage signage.Inside, the rustic wood décor was exactly as Barrett remembered—wide plank floors, exposed beams overhead, and warm lighting from Edison bulbs strung along the ceiling.The bar was long and well stocked with shelves of whiskey.Tables were arranged with enough space between them for privacy.
A hostess led them to a table near the back, away from the bar's busier section.Barrett held Cadie's chair and took the seat across from her.
Their server appeared promptly.Barrett ordered a Guinness and Cadie asked for a margarita.They added frybread with red pepper dip to start.
Barrett was in no hurry.He expected a long dinner, since he had a lot to tell her.But he wanted to hear from her first.
The drinks arrived, along with the frybread.The bread was warm and golden, and the red pepper dip had a subtle heat.Cadie took a couple of sips from her drinks and nibbled the food.
Barrett leaned back in his chair."What did you learn today?"
Cadie put her glass down and told him about each person she had met.She described the concert director and associate, conveying what each recalled.She covered the next visit with the piano teacher and student.
