A Secret Life by Barbara Dunlop Read Free Book Online Page A

said Joan. Maybe they just wanted pictures of her house. Surely they didn’t expect an interview at this hour.
    “Before or after they discover your doors are unlocked.”
    Joan hesitated. Heather did have a point. Reporter or not, she didn’t like the idea of somebody meandering into her house at night. Maybe Anthony could drive by and scare them off.
    She took a breath. “Okay. I’ll call Anthony at the B and B.”
    “Tell him to bring a gun.”
    Joan dialed Anthony’s cell number. “He’s not bringing a gun.”
    “A knife? Mace?”
    The ringing tone sounded in Joan’s ear. “I’ll just tell him to drive by. The lights should scare off any reporters.”
    “What if something goes wrong?”
    Joan wished her sister would calm down. Nothing was going to go wrong. There was an overzealous reporter tromping through the hydrangeas, that was all. Heather had lived in a big city way too long.
    “Verdun here,” came Anthony’s groggy voice.
    “Anthony? It’s Joan.”
    “Joan? What’s—”
    “Heather hears a noise.”
    “You hear it, too,” said Heather.
    “What kind of a noise?” Anthony sounded more awake, and there was a rustling in the background.
    “Thumping, creaking. I thought it was an alligator—”
    “What is it?” It sounded as if he was moving around.
    “A reporter, maybe?”
    “There’s a person in your house?”
    “Not in my house. On the porch. Maybe. I think…” She shouldn’t have called Anthony. She should have checked the porch herself. Heather was making her jumpy.
    “I’ll be right there.”
    “I was thinking you could just drive by—”
    “I’ll be right there.”
    “There’s no need to—”
    The phone went dead.
    “What’s he doing?” asked Heather.
    “He’s on his way.”
    Another thump sounded, louder this time. Even Joan flinched.
    Heather moved to the middle of the bed. “I sure hope he brings a gun.”

    A NTHONY ARRIVED within minutes. As his headlights flashed against the side of the house, there was a distinct sound of footsteps running down the back stairs.
    Joan rushed to the window and stared across the lawn toward Bayou Teche, trying to make out a figure running through the trees. But it was too dark to see anything but shadows. It could have been a man, could have been a woman, could have been a dog for that matter.
    Anthony pounded on the door, then pushed it open as Joan dashed down the stairs.
    “Did he break in?” he asked, as she rounded the breakfast bar and hit a light switch above the sink.
    The low light illuminated Anthony’s face as Joan shook her head.
    “They ran when they saw you coming,” she told him.
    “Your door was unlocked.”
    “It’s always unlocked.”
    He frowned. “What do you mean?”
    Joan gestured toward the front door. “The lock doesn’t work. I never—”
    “You’re kidding.” Anthony turned back to examine the catch. He clicked it a few times with his thumb. “Why the hell didn’t you get it fixed?”
    “There was never any reason—”
    “Security. Privacy. Safety. Those aren’t reasons?”
    She resented the censure in his tone. “Indigo is a perfectly safe community.”
    Heather appeared in the kitchen, holding a silk robe closed over her nightgown. It reminded Joan that she was standing in front of Anthony in her short, peach nightgown—and the light was streaming in from behind her. She shifted to one side.
    “Tell me everything that happened,” Anthony demanded as he returned to the front door and pushed it shut.
    His faded T-shirt and thin, gray sweatpants molded to his athletic body. The shirt was wrinkled, and Joan wondered if he’d slept in it. Or maybe he’d just thrown on the outfit for the drive over. Or maybe she should stop speculating.
    No. That wasn’t about to happen.
    He looked different somehow. It was more than just the casual clothes; there was something unguarded, almost rugged about him. His chin was shadowed with dark stubble, and his usually perfect hair was mussed.