Past Sins Read Free Page A

why? She’d been out of the business for three damn years. The woman she used to be was dead.
    His hesitation told her he wasn’t too keen on the idea of giving his name or his location. “Ned…Soderbaum. Chicago.”
    It was seven-thirty now. Approximately a three-hour flight. Assuming he could get one in the next hour, midnight would be the earliest meeting time.
    “If you can get a flight—”
    “My company has…I own a jet.”
    Well, okay then. Flight scheduling wouldn’t be a problem. Where to meet? It wouldn’t be a good idea to have him come to Hollywood. Wait. What was she worried about? This was Los Angeles County, including Los Angeles, Beverly Hills and dozens of other mass-population centers. There was an endless supply of anonymous places to meet and far too many people to make her easy to single out.
    “The pier at Santa Monica. Midnight.”
    More hesitation. “How will I know you?”
    “What will you be wearing?” she countered.
    “Business suit…ah…navy.”
    And you’ll stand out like an American tourist on a nude beach in the south of France, she wanted to say. “Won’t work, Mr. Soderbaum. You want to look like a local. Wear khaki shorts, a white T-shirt and a red baseball cap. I’ll find you.” At that time of night the pier would be pretty much deserted.
    “I guess I can do that.”
    “Don’t forget the sneakers and the retainer fee.”
    “I’m…I’m not sure on that last part. I didn’t get a clear idea of your fee.”
    She blinked, suddenly uncertain what to say to that. She remembered well the going rate three years ago, but that would have changed by now.
    “Ten now, fifteen later. Nothing larger than a twenty.”
    Olivia didn’t wait for his acknowledgment. She closed her phone, ending the call.
    She stared at the compact device for an endless moment. What had just happened here? Confusion cluttered her thinking process. Too many questions filled her head. No answers.
    Doing a three-sixty right there on the sidewalk she surveyed her quiet neighborhood. The smell of freshly mown grass lingered in the air. Somewhere down the street a dog barked. Two houses to the right of hers the owner paused in his shrub pruning long enough to wave. Children balanced on their skateboards on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
    Nothing had changed.
    She stared at her brick home with its clean, crisp coat of white paint…her silver Audi…Jeffrey’s blue Saturn…the lush, colorful landscape all around her. This was her life. She and Jeffrey were supposed to be having dinner. Then they would watch a little television and go to bed. Maybe they would have sex, maybe they wouldn’t. And tomorrow everything started over again. Work. Home. Sleep. Uncomplicated. Safe.
    Her gaze dropped to the phone in her hand.
    Until thirty seconds ago.

     
    “Can’t you at least have your dinner before you go?”
    Jeffrey watched from the bedroom door, none too happy that she had to leave so abruptly.
    “You’ll probably be there most of the night,” he pressed. “Even practicing psychologists need to eat, Olivia.”
    She pulled the lightweight black sweater over her head and tugged it down her torso to cover the waistband of the black slacks she’d chosen. “I’ll be fine, Jeffrey. Don’t worry. I’ll pick up something at the hospital cafeteria.”
    He continued to loiter in the doorway, looking unsettled and uncertain as to whether he should attempt to come up with a more compelling argument. “You’ll call when things calm down?” The way his posture relaxed told her he’d resigned himself to the inevitable.
    It didn’t happen often, but occasionally one of her patients would do something radical like take a few too many pills just to make someone believe he or she had intended suicide. The attention received was the point. Episodes such as those were the rare occasions when Olivia had to attend to a patient in the hospital.
    She ushered a smile across her lips for