Clouds In My Coffee by Andrea Smith

Author:Andrea Smith [Smith, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranomal romance, fantasy, adult
Publisher: Meatball Taster Publishing, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

I learn quickly that Agent Trevani doesn’t waste time. Two hours later, he and I are walking down the hall of Good Shepherd Assisted Living Home in Evanston, where Nancy Adams has been a resident since a stroke four years prior.

“Listen,” he cautions me as we get close to her apartment, “let me take the lead on this. No telling how her mind has been affected by the stroke. My experience has been that stroke victims can easily become confused or even persuaded if questions are leading.”

“No problem,” I reply, giving an eye roll that he can’t see because I’m following him.

Nice ass.

Trevani had called ahead and spoke to someone on staff, explaining the reason for our impending visit and asking them to let her know and make sure she was up to it.

She was.

She answers the door and immediately I see that she uses a walker to get around. Marco Trevani makes the introductions. Nancy Adams’ apartment consists of a small living room with a dining area, a tiny kitchen, a bedroom and bath.

“Come sit, please,” she says, quietly, and I recognize only bits of how she looked during my episode compared to now. The years have not been kind. “I know you’re here to talk about my Cecily, but I’m not sure why.”

I can see that her stroke has left her partially paralyzed on one side of her body by the way she drags a foot when she walks, and grips the handle of her walker a bit tighter with her right hand then with her left.

Agent Trevani and I both take a seat on the sofa. Mrs. Adams manages to position herself in front of a special recliner that has the power mechanism to assist in helping her up and down from it. Once seated, she looks over at us questioningly.

He leans forward, clasping his hands, “Mrs. Adams, I know it’s difficult having to dredge these memories up after all of these years, but Miss Locke here, well, through some special circumstances, has come to believe that your daughter’s death wasn’t an accident.”

The woman looks over at me, her eyes are dull with age but, for a second, I see a spark in them. “I never thought it was,” she replies, shaking her head, “But, the coroner said otherwise. Nobody wanted to believe any other possibility. Said she was high on some kind of dope and ran her car over that cliff. I never did believe that but, then again, the sheriff said it was my grief talking and that the coroner’s report said different.”

“Was your daughter known to use drugs?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “It was the seventies. Oh, my Cece was no angel I know that. I expect she might have smoked marijuana, maybe dabbled in this or that, but not as a habit. I never saw anything that pointed to that. She was a responsible person, a good student, a cheerleader,” she finishes, her voice sounding sad. “She was all I had. And she was taken.

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