Family Skeletons Read Free

bathroom that worked. But it held no shower,
only a claw-footed bathtub she’d scoured until she felt okay putting herself
into it.
    She mounted the stairs, deposited her suitcase on
her bed and then stopped, dead-still, eyes and ears alert. Something was wrong.
Stepping back to the doorway, she stood sideways in it, turning her back on
nothing. The skin at the back of her neck prickled as she surveyed the bedroom,
then the hall leading to the other two rooms, the door opening into the
bathroom—
    That was it! Her gaze shot back to the open door
leading into the right front bedroom. It was supposed to be closed like the
other one. The house was chilly, and she kept the unused rooms closed off to
save the meager heat from the floor heater in the hallway below.
    She didn’t own a gun, but she kept a baseball bat
under the bed. She got it and crept down the hall toward the door that most
probably hadn’t opened itself.
    A prowler must have broken in one of the back doors
and was long gone—she hoped—but her heart was beating double time and a chill
had settled over every part of her.
    The room emitted a snore.

 
    Chapter Two
    Sunny froze.
    No phone. No damned phone.
    Forget the phone and the baseball bat.
Get the hell out of here.
    Another snore caught itself in the middle. She heard
a huge intake of breath, a pause, and a loud exhalation. Sheets and blankets
rustled, bedsprings creaked, and feet hit the floor.
    Keys! Where are the car keys!
    Not in your pocket—purse still on the
passenger’s seat—the trunk. The keys are sticking out of the trunk’s lock.
    Brilliant, Sunny. Brilliant.
    She backed up a slow step at a time, gaze glued to
the open doorway. The baseball bat was poised over her right shoulder, her
fingers rigid around it.
    Cell phone! It’s in your purse.
    The floor creaked as someone walked across it, and
he appeared in the doorway before she made it back to the top of the stairs.
When his gaze lit upon her, he uttered an inarticulate sound and jerked to a
stop.
    Run. Attack before he gets his wits
together. Do something, Sunny!
    “Who are you? What are you—” He squinted. “You’re
the girl from the other night, with the foul mouth. So you’re the one who’s been
living here.”
    She swallowed.
    “Relax, whatever your name is. You don’t need that
bat.”
    He moved slightly, probably just settling where he
was, but she stiffened her stance.
    He grew still. “But if you feel better holding on to
it, then by all means keep it.”
    Slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle her into
attack, he held up one hand, then looked down at his t-shirt and boxer shorts.
“Let me back up and put some clothes on, okay?”
    “No.”
    “No?”
    “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
    “I asked you first. But we’ll play it your way. I
own this place. I—”
    “Corday? You’re Jonathan Corday?”
    Smart, Sunny, you fed it to him .
    Calmly, he nodded. “Yes, I am. Now it’s your turn.”
    “I’ll need to see identification.”
    “I gave you my card the other night. Remember?”
    “Oh. Yeah, but I didn’t look at it. I still need to
see identification.”
    He appeared annoyed, but when she didn’t relax her
stance, he nodded toward the room’s interior. “It’s in there. May I?”
    She considered, gaze not wavering, then gave him one
curt nod of her head. He stepped back into the room and she followed as far as
the doorway, afraid to let him out of her sight. He got a wallet from the
dresser, withdrew a driver’s license and extended it toward her.
    She indicated the end of the bed with a flick of her
eyes. He flipped it there and backed up to the far wall. She grabbed the
license and got the basics with a quick glance.
    Jonathan Louis Corday. Five-eleven. One
sixty. Hair brown. Eyes green.
    She checked the picture, him, then the picture
again.
    “Okay.” She lowered the bat and felt her energy
level lower along with it.
    “May I get dressed now?”
    “Of course. I’m sorry,