Circle of Blood (Forensic Mystery)

I look forward to hearing from you.
    Jo Ann Whittaker
    A thought electrified Cameryn as she grabbed her phone and punched in her mother’s number once again.
    Pick up, pick up, pick up! she commanded.
    “Hello?”
    “Mom! It’s me Cameryn. Are you home?”
    “Yes.”
    “Stay there. I have something important to tell you. We have to talk and I’m coming over right now. Mom, I think I know who killed Mariah! ”

Chapter Thirteen
    MRS. KENNEDY, THE owner of the Wingate, was in the parlor reading a book when Cameryn let herself in.
    “Your mother’s popular this evening. She’s already got a visitor. Go right on up.”
    “Who’s with her?” Cameryn asked.
    “Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Kennedy deflected the question. “I was just making—”
    “No,” Cameryn said. “I’m fine.” She took off her coat and hung it on a brass coat rack as a high-pitched whistle came from the kitchen.
    “And there’s my water boiling. Let me know if you change your mind.” She left Cameryn, humming to herself as she disappeared around a corner.
    Who was in the room with her mother? Cameryn, who had been bursting with good news, held back. Quiet, she went up the stairs. The door to Hannah’s room was ajar, and she could see Hannah perched in the wingback chair wearing a pair of jeans and a too-large sweater that bunched in her lap. Her hair hung in tousled curls and her feet were bare. For a moment, Cameryn stared. Hannah’s face had delicate, straight bones and wide, dark eyes— Cameryn’s eyes. The eyes, though, looked frightened.
    “I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Hannah was repeating, over and over.
    “I’m just asking—have you been taking your Tegretol?” It was a male voice, and familiar. When Cameryn heard it, her heart sank.
    “I think so,” said Hannah, sounding like a child. “But I don’t remember for sure.”
    “Hannah, you’re going into a manic phase. You may not be able to tell, but I can. You’re talking nonstop.”
    “No, Justin, I’ve never been better. Cameryn thinks I’m fine.”
    “She didn’t know you in New York. I did. Show me your prescriptions. Or do you even have them?”
    Trapped in the hallway, Cameryn stood perfectly still. She watched her mother rise and go out of her line of sight and then return, dropping two bottles into Justin’s hands.
    “There. See? Here they are. Are you satisfied, Justin? I’ve got my medicine.”
    All the lights were on, both the overhead and the squat bedside lamp centered on an end table. A light in the bathroom cast a fan-shaped glow onto the carpet. Her mother’s voice lost its wispiness. “This is none of your business.”
    From where Cameryn stood, all she could see of Justin were his hands. She watched as he popped a lid, spilling the contents onto his palm. “The Tegretol,” he said. The pills were white ovals, which he then replaced. “And the Fluoxetine.” These were a deeper pink tablet, shaped like jelly beans. “Both of these are full. Look at the date—Hannah, you haven’t taken a single pill since you came here,” he accused. “Is that why you’ve been hiding from me?”
    “I’m not hiding. I’ve just been busy.”
    “You can’t stop taking your pills. You know better.”
    She dropped back into the chair. “Those pills make me feel flat. It’s like . . . it’s like my head is all wrapped up in cotton. It’s like the color has bled out of my life and all that’s left is black and white. I wanted to experience Cameryn without the meds.” She leaned forward, her face flush with excitement as her voice rose, almost shrill. “Justin, since I stopped I’ve felt so much better. I’m on fire again. All those years of doing what the doctors told me. They were wrong. I stopped medicating myself and something woke up inside. I’ve got my energy and I feel like I’m alive ! ”
    The knowledge twisted through Cameryn like a snake. Her mother had stopped taking medication because of her .
    “Is that why you came to see me?” Hannah asked. “To make sure I’m on my meds? As far as I know, failure to take medication is not a crime.”
    “That’s not why, Hannah.” Justin’s voice was gentle. “I came because of our Baby Doe. We’ve got a name for her now. The victim was Esther Childs.”
    “Esther?” Hannah paused. She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest tight, as if to hold herself in.
    “Have you ever seen this girl before? I’m talking about Saturday, December