Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) Read Free

out leaping like calves from the stall. Oh, brother. While I had already forgotten my vow to work harder on becoming a better woman, Someone else had not.
    Fine. Between God and Gino, my dear friend and guide to all things spiritually-related, I was bound to become that better woman soon. Time to redirect my thinking.
    Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Start it right… with no regrets . No righter way to start the day than an impromptu visit with Samantha. There were only a few days of Spring Break left. Maybe I’d pick her up, and together we’d surprise my mom with dark chocolates and brunch. Three generations of Oliver women in one spot. It doesn’t get much better than that. I hummed as I walked through my house and headed for the shower. Ten minutes later, I was dressed and moisturizing.
    I’d call Sam’s social worker and foster mom to get the okay to pick her up in a few hours. First, I had another stop to make. I was going to take my final ride down that beautiful lane to my old lake house, knock on the door, skip the drama, and get my holiday china. We were speeding into Easter, and I wanted my alabaster rabbit and my lamb cake mold, so I could have my Easter back, on the way to getting my life back.
    And I’d have them by sundown. Just one more log to leap over today.
     

     
    I headed out to the highway, scenes from the marriage that had left me behind floating all around me, until a drain opened in my mind, sucking them all down the big black hole of loss that had become my personal life. I flipped the blinker on and pulled into the lake house’s subdivision for the very last time.
    Today, I’d say goodbye and truly stop looking back. But not without my holiday china.

 
     
     
    Fueled by visions of my famous Easter almond vanilla lamb cake, complete with rich white buttercream frosting and the requisite coconut fleece, I picked my way through the streets leading to my lake house. My mind clung to the symbol of the resurrection. An Easter morning cross, adorned with an artfully hung purple robe, stuck in a mound of Easter grass—bright greens and pinks, littered with jellybeans, chocolate bunnies, and peanut butter eggs.
    Five minutes later, I nosed my car up the asphalt driveway curving gracefully to the McMansion I’d bought for my husband to enjoy with my replacement. Viburnum, heavy with buds, lined the entrance. I wouldn’t get to see them in full bloom. I glided to a stop next to the back porch steps, noting my expensive electric car standing at attention in the driveway. I moved to the driver’s side window, and peered in. Another woman’s jacket hung carelessly on the back of the passenger-side headrest. A fistful of rocks lurched through my stomach.
    The car sat squarely in front of the first garage door. It was open, so they were probably inside. What to do? Ring the doorbell? Front door? Back door? I wasn’t company, but I sure wasn’t family. I steeled myself and sashayed right through the garage to the back door like I owned the place. Because heck, I still did own the place.
    I rapped on the door. Silence . I knocked again—louder—three times in a row, bracing myself for the clack of mincing, four-inch-stiletto-clad footsteps on my hardwood floors. The pitter-patter of my marriage walking out the door of no return.
    Nothing.
    I retreated down the steps and walked out of the garage in slow, measured steps. I know they’re here. They must be… Fresh air breezed across my face as I looked down the hill at the boat house on the edge of the lake. Mist steamed off the water. In some alternate universe, Del and I might have been sitting at the end of that dock, drinking coffee, greeting the new day together. But that world had only existed in my fantasies.
    I should offer a quick prayer. But what if God doesn’t really want me here? Better to keep Him out of this right now. I’ll pray later. God might not be as invested in getting back my holiday china as I am. I took