Deadly Deceptions Read Free Page A

Ethereal, but solid, too.
    â€œTalk to me, sweetheart,” I whispered when I’d recovered enough to speak. “Tell me who—who did this to you.”
    She shook her head. Was she refusing to tell me, or was it that she didn’t know who her murderer was? Yes, she’d denied her stepfather’s guilt with a shake of her head, but that didn’t mean she’d recognized her killer. He or she might have been a stranger. Or perhaps she hadn’t actually seen the person at all; I wasn’t even sure how or where she’d been killed. The police weren’t releasing that information and there was no visible indication of trauma in her appearance, either.
    Still, I had a strong intuitive sense that she was keeping a secret.
    I got up off my knees, sat on the edge of the bed I was still too afraid to sleep in. Gillian perched beside me, looking up into my face with enormous, imploring eyes.
    â€œHoney,” I said carefully, “did you see the person who hurt you?”
    Again, she shook her head, another clear no. There had been a slight hesitation, though.
    I let out a breath. “But you’re sure it wasn’t your stepfather?”
    She nodded vigorously.
    I was about to ask how she could be so certain when the phone on my bedside table rang, a shrill jangling that made my nerves jump.
    Gillian instantly evaporated.
    I picked up the receiver more out of reflex than any desire to talk to anyone. “Hello?”
    â€œIt’s Tucker.”
    I closed my eyes. Opened them again right away, in case some psycho was about to spring out of the woodwork and pounce. “What?” I asked, none too graciously.
    He let out a sigh. “Look, I don’t blame you for being upset,” he said after an interval of brief, throbbing silence. “But we still need to talk.”
    â€œHow did you know I was here?”
    â€œI guessed.”
    â€œLiar.”
    â€œAll right, I drove by after I dropped Allison off at home, and I saw your car in the parking lot at Bert’s.”
    â€œWhere are you?”
    â€œStanding at the bottom of the stairway, trying to work up the nerve to come up and knock on your door.”
    â€œDon’t,” I said.
    â€œMoje, we need to talk— about us, about lots of stuff. But today it’s all about Gillian. I’m not planning to jump your bones, I promise.”
    â€œOkay,” I heard myself say, taking him at his word. In fact, Tucker was about as easy to resist as a tsunami. “Come up, then. The door’s open.”
    Tucker rang off, and I heard him double-timing it up the outside stairs.
    I replaced the cordless phone on its base, stood, straightened the black dress I’d borrowed from Greer—it was the same one I’d worn to Lillian’s funeral, not that long ago—and smoothed my wild red hair, which was trying to escape from the clip holding it captive at the back of my head.
    â€œYou should have locked the door,” Tucker said, standing just inside my door in the tiny entry hall. He’d shed his suit coat, but he was still wearing the dark slacks, a crisp white shirt and a tie, the knot loosened. He looked like some next-dimension version of himself, just slightly off.
    â€œAs far as I know,” I replied circumspectly, keeping my distance, “nobody is trying to kill me.”
    â€œHey,” he said with a bleak attempt at a grin, “given your history, that could change at any moment.”
    â€œLet’s have coffee,” I said, turning toward the kitchen. I needed a table between us if we were going to talk about Gillian, and something to do with my hands. “With luck, it hasn’t been poisoned since I was here last.”
    Tucker followed me through the living room.
    I felt a pang, missing Russell, a very alive basset hound, and my equally dead cat, Chester. Russell was in Witness Protection with his people, and Chester, after haunting me for a while,