Cut to the Corpse by Lucy Lawrence Read Free Book Online Page A

to go out with you and the night isn’t even half over.”
    Tara bit her lip, obviously trying to decide between common sense and accommodating her friend. The friend won, and Tara nodded in a sleepy, drunken way.
    “Brenna, promise to wake me up tomorrow!” she called as she lurched against the roof when the limo began to pull away from the curb.
    “I promise!” Brenna called with a wave, relieved that she had escaped when she did.
    “I’ll bet you fifty bucks, she regrets that decision tomorrow,” Tenley said.
    “And how,” Brenna agreed.
     
    A nudge against her hip roused Brenna from her sleep. She would have ignored it, but given that she’d been sleeping alone for the past few years, it was hard to ignore the presence of another being in her bed.
    She opened one eye and found herself nose to muzzle with Hank. He had his head on the pillow beside hers, looking as content as if he’d just corralled a field full of rabbits.
    Brenna glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty. She was to meet Tiffany at the shop at nine and if she was going to pick up Tara first, she’d better get moving.
    Grateful that she hadn’t had much to drink the night before, Brenna took Hank for a quick jog around their corner of the lake. Then it was a fast shower and into the Jeep for the four and a half mile ride into town.
    She drove with her windows down, letting the cool morning air flirt with her hair and sweep across her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake.
    She pulled up in front of Tara’s bungalow, a square light blue house with white trim and a narrow porch. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. It was quarter to nine. She fervently hoped that Tara was up and moving. She did not relish the idea of trying to hose a drunk girl off in the shower.
    She rapped on Tara’s door, but there was no response. Shocker.
    She tried the doorknob, and much to her dismay, it opened. What was this girl thinking? Having been the victim of a nasty robbery in Boston, Brenna took her personal safety very seriously and was mystified when others, especially other women, did not. Maybe she was paranoid and saw a bad guy lurking around every corner, but it kept her safe and nowadays that seemed like a good plan to her.
    She knocked on the doorframe, hoping to rouse Tara without having to go inside. There was no answer. She did three more sharp raps and yelled, “Hello?”
    Still, no answer. Feeling like an intruder herself, she stepped into Tara’s small house. It was quiet. There was no sound of the shower running or anyone snoring. Maybe Tara had left already.
    Still, she felt that she ought to check. She walked through the narrow living room, where a rounded love seat and armchair were decorated in a pretty cobalt blue and white floral upholstery. Stacks of wedding magazines littered the glass coffee table, underneath which the shoes Tara had been wearing the night before lay discarded.
    A breakfast bar separated the kitchenette, which was clean and painted bright yellow. Beyond that was a short hallway with two doors; one led to an empty bathroom and the other was half closed. It had to be the bedroom.
    “Tara? It’s Brenna, are you up yet?” Brenna took a deep breath and pushed open the door. She really hoped to find the bed made and Tara gone, having left in such a hurry she forgot to lock her door. But no.
    The smell struck her first, a metallic odor that bit at her nostrils, causing her to recoil. Something was very wrong. She saw the rumpled bed next. Two heads were visible above the bunched-up purple comforter, one blond and one dark brown.
    Oh, gees! Tara wasn’t alone, and unless Brenna missed her guess the head beside hers did not belong to Jake. She thought about just leaving, but then she feared Tiffany would come storming in here and that made her feel badly for Tara.
    “Oh for Pete’s sake!” Brenna snapped, annoyed. She stomped toward the bed. She would wake Tara and then let her deal with the disaster she’d