Copper Lake Confidential by Marilyn Pappano Read Free Book Online Page A

But the wrong words came out. “No. He’s an ex only in the sense that he’s not around. He, um, died a year and a half ago.”
    That was the first time she’d said the words out loud. She hadn’t had to tell her family when it happened because the sheriff did it for her. She hadn’t had to tell Clary because her daughter was too young to ask. Everyone else had found out through the media or the very efficient gossip network.
    Granted, she’d told the bare minimum just now. She didn’t mention that he’d been trying to kill his cousin, Reece, and Jones, the man she’d married soon after, after they’d unearthed a bone from one of Mark’s and his grandfather’s victims. She didn’t try to find words to say that he’d shot himself in the head when his murder attempt failed. She couldn’t even imagine telling anyone that she’d been married to a cold-blooded sociopath.
    “Jeez, I’m sorry,” Stephen said in a quietly comforting tone, the one he likely used when he had to deliver bad news to his patients’ owners. “That must be tough.”
    “It would be tougher if I still loved him.” Immediately she clapped one hand over her mouth. Oh, God, had she actually said that out loud? To a stranger?
    Shoving her chair back with a scrape, she jumped to her feet and went into the kitchen, face burning, palms sweaty. Her stomach was knotted, making her hope she wouldn’t have to dash for the bathroom. She damn well needed practice at this social interaction thing if she couldn’t even control the words that came out of her mouth.
    A low whine came from Scooter, followed by a soft word from Stephen, then the sounds of the dog enjoying another bite of pizza. Macy stood in the middle of the kitchen, back to them, hugging herself, wondering what to do next.
    Deal with it. You made the comment. Now stop acting like a nut job and go back to the table.
    Grabbing a handful of napkins they didn’t need, she slowly retraced her steps and sat down. “I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say— I don’t normally bring that up in conversation.”
    “Don’t worry. I won’t repeat it to anyone.” He slipped another bite to Scooter, then changed the subject. “I haven’t been to Charleston yet. Is that where you’re from or did your parents move there later?”
    Her breathing slowed, her fingers slowly unclenching. “I’ve lived there all my life, except for here and in college. My parents bought my grandparents’ house after they passed, so there have been Irelands living in it for more than a hundred years.” Her smile felt crooked, though she gave it her best. “Mom and Dad are celebrating their fortieth anniversary with an extended tour of Europe. It seemed as good a time as any to take care of things here and—” She considered choices: start living again. Put the past behind us. Get away from the shame and the scandal. “—move on.” That was bland enough.
    “Do you think you’ll stay there? Just get a place of your own?”
    “I think I might close my eyes really tight, point to a spot on a map and go there.” She didn’t see herself in Charleston five years from now, or even five months from now. Emotionally, she needed her family close, but emotionally she needed distance. Yes, she needed their support, but too much support made her dependent. Even now, when she was adamant about getting back to her life, she hadn’t been able to give much thought to where she wanted that life to play out. She had to start relying on herself, making decisions and standing by them. She needed to take control again.
    “Pick a spot in the southern half of the country. It gets danged cold above the Mason-Dixon line.”
    Again her smile was weak. “I kind of like cold.”
    “Says the woman who’s lived all of her life in the South. Spend a winter in Wyoming. It’ll change your mind.”
    “Where did you grow up?”
    He offered her the last slice of pizza, then, when she shook her head, moved it to his plate and