The Black Dress Read online

  The BLACK DRESS

  a DÄNNA WILBERG novel

  Copyright © 2019 Dänna Wilberg

  Second Edition

  The BLACK DRESS

  Book Three in the Grace Simms Trilogy

  Cover Art by Karen Phillips (phillipscovers.com)

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author intends no resemblance to actual persons, living or dead.

  Printed in the United States of America

  to my readers

  A story is words on paper.

  Only a reader can bring those words to life

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  T he Black Dress blends fact with fiction. PTSD is real. Trauma creates PTSD. Many veterans suffer with this affliction. Thank you to those who have served, and continue to serve our beautiful country. I hope readers gain a new understanding and tolerance of those who live with PTSD. I would also like to acknowledge those who are battling cancer, or know someone who is. My character is a fighter. I know you are too, or know someone who is. You are never alone.

  Thank you to my Paranormal Community for insight into premonitions, manifestation and psychic vision.

  I am grateful to Kirk Colvin and the Eldorado Writers Guild for their critiques and editing suggestions. I attribute this group with my success as a writer.

  Again, I thank my sister Kathy Partipilo for being my rock, and my late mother, Sonia Dennis for being my best critic and biggest fan. Gratitude to my children, Dawn, Elia, Ashleigh, Erika, and Olivia for inspiring me to do my best, and my husband for keeping the lights on while I pursue my dreams.

  I’d like to thank my professional advisor, Mark Yankauer, MA, MFT. Also, thanks to Karen Phillips for once again creating gorgeous cover art.

  From my heart, I want to acknowledge my readers. I appreciate your feedback, encouragement, and longing for more of my stories. You keep my imagination alive and my Muse on her toes.

  PROLOGUE

  P aul’s hand trembled as he grabbed the edge of the box and slid it forward. Memories. All he had left of life before Jess Bartell lay inside. Hatred churned his stomach and lumped in his throat. He lifted the box from the shelf and placed it on the bed.

  More than a decade stood between Paul and the photo he held in his hand. Mom and Dad. They were a couple to be admired, even revered. This photo was Mom’s favorite. His dad would agree if he were alive. “We were young and in love back then,” his dad would say.

  His mom would throw her arms around his dad’s neck and giggle, “What do you mean were?”

  How he loved them both. Missing them ate a hole in his heart until he met Grace. Her love filled cracks and crannies he didn’t know existed. Before Grace, he walked the earth with a dull ache that never waned. She makes me smile.

  Paul placed the box back on the shelf, ending his visit with his folks. That’s over. He had a new life to plan. Soon, Grace would become his wife. They would start a family. Be like Mom and Dad. But first? Tend to unfinished business.

  He would go to the end of the earth to avenge his parent’s death and keep Grace safe. He would cross any line and suffer any consequence to bring Jess Bartell to justice. Better yet? Paul glanced at the box one last time. I want that son-of-a-bitch dead.

  CHAPTER 1

  LOVE IS BLIND

  M onday morning proved uneventful, the way psychotherapist Grace Simms liked it, until her cell phone rang. The unlisted number triggered a chill. Jess. She didn’t answer.

  Grace’s secretary and best friend, Sal, handed her a fresh cup of coffee. Concern twisted her features into a scowl. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re pale.”

  “Blood sugar’s probably low. Do we have any crackers?” Grace still battled PTSD symptoms. Nothing could push her whiny, fearful, negative-Nelly button faster than Jess. She struggled to keep her bitch factor in check.

  Sal rummaged through a cupboard in the office’s small kitchenette. “Voila!” she exclaimed, extracting a waxed-paper tube from a box and handing it to Grace. “Not much of a breakfast. I can make you a slice of toast. Lenny’s running late. Says he’s on a job interview.”

  “No thanks,” said Grace. “I’ll be in my office.”

  “Don’t forget my doctor’s appointment this afternoon. I’m leaving early.”

  “Forget? I plan to take you myself.”

  “Dang, Grace, that’s a lot to—”

  “Not another word. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “All right, I feel better having you there. John? Love him to death, but he frets too much, and biopsies are nerve-racking enough.”

  “Everything is going to be fine.” Grace stepped closer to Sal until they were eye to eye. “It’s a tiny lump. Could be anything. The biopsy will prove it’s benign; then we can celebrate at Victoria’s Secret.”

  Grace hugged her friend. Something she wouldn’t have easily done before. Before Paul. Before love. She realized all her life she had been trying to smell the roses by putting them to her ear. Now, she inhaled their sweetness. Thoughts of making love to Paul pushed away the ugliness of cancer and the Jesses of the world. She wanted peace of mind. Happy.

  “I’m going to give my mother a quick call,” Grace said. “When Lenny shows up, tell him I’ll be right with him.”

  “Give her my love,” Sal called over her shoulder. “Tell her I’m glad she’s better.”

  Grace flashed on the severe concussion her mother sustained at the hands of Jess Bartell, the man who claimed to love me. Her mother’s recovery—touch and go—caused Grace insurmountable guilt and stress. “Me too,” Grace smiled, gratefully at her friend, “Me too.”

  Behind closed doors, Grace still fretted at not being able to spot a monster in her midst. She’d known Jess for more than eight years. Love is blind. She was grateful her mother survived. Others weren’t as lucky. Never again.

  * * *

  Paul Fortier typed in his search request and clicked on the link, “Foreign Press.” He scrolled down to the bottom of the page.

  Puerto Madero • Buenos • Aires Argentina

  Woman’s body found strangled and mutilated

  He continued to read on, massaging his throbbing temples. “Is that your handy work Jess, you son-of-a-bitch?” He clicked the arrow for the next page and scanned the crowd of people in the photo. Hundreds had gathered to catch a glimpse of the body lying under the blood-soaked tarp. Paul pointed his mouse at the plus sign to enlarge the photo. He moved the mouse around, looking for anyone resembling Jess. He enlarged the image of a blond haired man in his mid-thirties. The man’s face was turned toward a beautiful blond woman, a woman who resembled Grace. It appeared as tho
ugh he were about to whisper something in her ear.

  The pain in Paul’s head sharpened. “I’ll find you, and when I do—” The phone rang.

  Paul answered, disguising his anger. “Ah, chér, what a surprise!”

  “I called to tell you what a happy woman you’ve made me.” “I could say the same for you!” His chuckle came out shaky.

  “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

  “No, no. Reading the news. Bor-ing.”

  “Thought you caught up on current events this morning.”

  “You were a distraction. How could I possibly read with you touching me like that?”

  “Sure it wasn’t the other way around?” Grace’s cheeks warmed, thinking about skin on skin.

  “How about having lunch later?” he asked, refreshing his computer screen.

  “Sorry, can’t. I’m taking Sal for her biopsy this afternoon, otherwise…”

  “No worries. We’ll connect over dinner.”

  “Deal.” She hung up the phone chasing butterflies from her stomach. She imagined their bodies fitting together deliciously while Rod Stuart’s Tonight’s the Night played in her head. Her lady parts hummed along.

  * * *

  Paul highlighted the photo, hit “copy to file,” and then found another link and another search. He typed in his password and scrolled to the department he needed. His Spanish was rusty, but the information he needed was crystal clear. The dead woman was from the U.S., her last residence: San Diego, California.

  * * *

  Jess cocked his head to one side, assessing the black hair he finished coloring thirty minutes ago. He glanced at the photo taped to the mirror. No. He liked the blond-headed man circled in the picture much better. Do blonds prefer blonds? he wondered, drawing his fingertip along the neckline of the blond woman standing next to him. The scent of newspaper ink wafted through his nostrils as he drew near to her bosom. “You’re almost as beautiful as my Grace,” he whispered. “We’ll see if you can hold a candle to her when I fuck your brains out.” Jess picked up the blond’s business card from the bureau and slid it into the pocket of his tight black chinos, and then opened another button on his white shirt. He rolled up a black apron, with the word Olé printed in gold letters across the front, shoved it in his back pocket, and headed out. First day on the job; don’t want to be late.

  Jaime Perez was bent over the rusted-out Porsche but looked up. “Wow! We could be twins,” he said.

  “You think?”

  “Close enough. The dinner shift gets so busy they won’t know the difference. Just don’t fuck up. I need my job.”

  “No worries, man,” Jess said.

  “Stay away from the owner. She’ll twist your bone if you get in her way.”

  “What does she look like?” Jess feigned innocently.

  “Blond, gorgeous.” Jaime stood up. “Careful, man. She’s a barracuda.”

  Jess held one thumb up, “Thanks for the warning.”

  Two blocks away from his destination, Jess pulled out a cell phone. He tapped the numbers on the keypad and waited for the call to connect.

  * * *

  Grace heard a beep. “Gotta a call coming in, Mom. Can you hold?

  “Grace Lynn, I hate to be put on hold. I’ll talk to you another time.”

  Grace said goodbye to her mother and pushed the flash button on her phone. Too late. The call went to voice mail. She was about to check the number when she heard Lenny’s gruff voice greet Sal. She slid the bar on her phone to silent and tossed it into her purse.

  * * *

  Paul turned off his computer and flipped open his phone.

  Skip picked up on the other end. “Yeah, man. What’s cookin’?”

  “I found him.” Paul inserted print-outs into a manila folder, placed the folder in his briefcase, and closed the lid.

  “No shit.”

  “Up for a little plane ride?” Paul asked.

  “Hell yeah. Should I pack my toothbrush? Depends? Or both?”

  “Both. Bring your “baby,” too. We’re in and out.”

  Skip roared. “What! You gonna fuckin’ snipe him off a tree branch?”

  “If I have to. Always nice to be prepared.”

  “You know I don’t travel without “baby.” I’m down.”

  “Good, because I already filed a flight plan. We leave at twenty-four-hundred hours.”

  “Perfect. How’s the little lady?”

  “Better than I ever imagined. Man, it’s great to be in love.”

  “Told ya so. Now you get why I owe ya, man.” Visions of a bloody battlefield seeped in. “She know you’re a spook?”

  “Past tense, bro. Once we get this bastard, I’ll tell her everything, and you’re free and clear.”

  “Free and clear, my skinny ass. I’ll always have your back. I know you’d do the same for me.”

  “In a heartbeat, buddy. In a heartbeat.”

  Paul hung up the phone and scrolled through his photos until he found the one he wanted: Grace, sitting on a rock, watching the sunset. A golden halo set her apart from the sea in a perfunctory pose of contentment. Eyes closed, head back, hands relaxed. Legs and feet stretched in front of her, toes buried in the sand. “I love you, Grace Simms,” he whispered to the photo. “I promise to keep you safe.” He picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. He didn’t look back.

  * * *

  Grace flipped through a magazine, watching the clock. Sal had been in with the radiologist for more than an hour. When the door opened, Grace stood. Sal charmed the young man who escorted her to the waiting room.

  “This is my single friend, Grace. Grace, meet Seth.”

  “Nice to meet you. How did everything go?”

  “Remarkable!”

  Grace tuned into Seth’s body language, hoping not to catch him in a lie. He seemed sincere.

  “I’m fine,” Sal announced. “No need for worry. In fact, that’s what took so darn long. Seth couldn’t find anything!”

  Grace smiled, relieved. “You know what that means: shopping spree!”

  The two women walked out into the sunshine arm in arm.

  Grace secretly thanked God for the good news.

  “By the way, Sal,” she said beaming. “Not to burst your bubble, but I’m off the market now.”

  “Paul?”

  “Yes, Paul.”

  * * *

  Paul arrived at the Park Lounge before Grace. He asked for a table on the patio, facing the park. He recalled the night he found her sitting alone, desperate and drunk. She had lost a client to a tragic accident and had convinced herself she was in part to blame. He hadn’t expected to take her home that night. Face it, buddy, you didn’t expect to fall in love.

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out the velvet box and placed it on the table. How many times had he rehearsed the right words to say? He opened the box, admiring the contents. The three-carat, oval diamond originally belonged to his great-grandmother, but his grandmother found the setting too simple and reset the diamond into a filigree mounting that held an additional three carats of round-cut stones. At first glance, the ring was ostentatious, but every brilliant cut held a memory dear to his heart.

  He smoothed his hair and straightened his tie. He wanted the moment to be perfect. He checked his watch. She’s late. He checked his phone. No missed calls. No messages. He loosened his tie. Chill. Maybe this was the wrong time to propose. He was leaving for Buenos Ares tonight. Should I wait until I return? He slipped the box back into his pocket. He checked his phone again. Just then, her voice penetrated his senses. His skin began to tingle as he watched her rush towards him. Her face flushed; she seemed out of breath.

  “Would’ve been here sooner—fender-bender on J.” As he rose, Grace leaned forward to place a kiss on his lips. “You smell divine. And look at you? All dressed up! I swear you’re the most handsome man on the planet.”

  “We haven’t been here in a while. Thought I’d make tonight special, and you are a
vision.”

  “Long day. I’m famished.”

  “I want to hear all about it. Shall we order first?”

  “If you don’t mind. I’m sorry, I’m going to have to cut our time short this evening.”

  “Oh? Hot date?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m two-timing you,” said Grace.

  “Sorry. When you have two loves in your life, what’s a girl to do?”

  “Share?”

  “I love you even more for understanding.”

  “Understand I will have to kick his ass.”

  “You’ll have to squat to do that. You best him by at least eight inches.”

  “Oh, so now you like the little guys!”

  “He’s much younger, too. Are you okay with that?”

  “Does this dwarf have a name? When I chastise him for stealing my woman, I want to know how to address him.”

  “Buns.”

  “Buns? Sal’s Buns?”

  “Yes. Sal and John are sneaking away to celebrate her outstanding check-up today.”

  “In that case, I’ll refrain.” He patted the object in his pocket.

  Maybe tonight wasn’t a good idea.

  “You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Sounds kinky. I’ll pass.”

  “Too bad, I planned on crème brûlée ice cream on waffle cones.”

  Paul’s heart sighed in defeat. He wasn’t sure his grandmother’s ring would trump the look in her eye at the mention of crème brûlée ice cream. Another time.

  Grace sensed his disappointment. “You said you wanted to make the night special. What did you have in mind?”

  “Oh, nothing, I thought maybe you were getting tired of plaid shirts and the doggy smell.”

  “Never.”

  “You say that now.”

  “Okay, ask me again in a couple years.”

  Suddenly, Paul felt no need to rush his proposal. First, he would make the world a safer place by getting rid of Jess. Then, when he returned from Buenos Ares, he would whisk her away to his house in the bay for a romantic evening she would never forget.