Dead By Dusk by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

hi.”
    â€œThis is Suzette Croix,” Lena said, turning to the woman at her side. Suzette was Lena’s antithesis—her eyes were a light green, almost a lime, and her hair was a soft blond.
    â€œHello,” Suzette said. She smiled as well, but she seemed warier, giving Stephanie a grave surveillance.
    â€œSuzette, hi.”
    Again she shook hands.
    â€œHave you met the boys?” Suzette asked. “How silly of me, you just walked in. Slept late, huh? That first day after crossing the Atlantic is always a killer. Anyway, this is Drew”—she pointed out a very tall, slim fellow with red hair who was waiting to meet Stephanie—“and this is Doug Wharton.” Doug was a little shorter than Drew, with brown hair, coffee-colored eyes, and a quick grin.
    â€œWe’re really sorry about last night,” Drew said, shaking her hand. “Who would have ever imagined that a broken hose would take ’til morning?”
    â€œBut the girls were stuck, too,” Doug reminded them all.
    â€œYes,” Suzette said, and shivered.
    â€œOh, it was really rather exciting!” Lena argued.
    â€œExciting! Ugh!” Suzette said, shaking her head as she looked at Stephanie. “I hated it! They’re still unearthing bones, and rather than just crate them up, they dust them off where they lie, they sift through the dirt . . . and the campsite was just a few feet away. After all those years . . . there’s still hair and flesh and pieces of clothing and—trust me! It’s just—ugh!”
    â€œI found it very exciting,” Lena argued.
    â€œI think she found the archeologists exciting,” Suzette said dryly.
    â€œHey, okay, so there was the one guy—”
    â€œOh, yeah!” Suzette said. “What a digger he was.”
    â€œYou’re into an archeologist?” Drew demanded. “Oh, come, please! The fellows who were in here from the dig the other night were downright . . . pathetic. So studious! Beady-eyed, scruffy.”
    â€œNo, no, no, no!” Lena said, smiling at Stephanie. “Think Indiana Jones with this guy, except, not really. He’s here through some kind of volunteer amateur program sponsored by National Geographic . Hey, in real life, he’s an actor, or a director,” Lena told them. “That’s what the guide told me. He works someplace in the Midwest.”
    Stephanie felt a trickle of unease, then decided she was jumping to conclusions. Just because Grant Peterson had an obsession with ancient Egypt and spent most of his time watching the Discovery Channel, there was no reason to assume that he had taken time away from the Park Street Players to dig up ruins in Southern Italy. That would be too ironic.
    â€œGorgeous guy, that’s for certain,” Suzette murmured. She wrinkled her face. “Absolutely into the dig, though. Lena tried to flirt away, and he wasn’t anything more than courteous.”
    â€œRemember his name?” Stephanie asked, trying to sound casual.
    â€œNo, because we didn’t actually meet; he was on one side of the marked-off area, and we were on the other,” Lena explained. “Then, at night . . . well, I guess he didn’t come back to the campsite until it was really late.”
    â€œUntil Lena gave up waiting for him,” Suzette said dryly. “I have to admit . . . well, he was intriguing, no matter what his background or nationality. Abs like steel.”
    â€œHey, you know what? We don’t want to hear about this guy,” Doug said. “We’ve seen plenty of beautiful Italian babes since we’ve been in the country, but they sure weren’t around where we were stuck last night! Where we were, the whole town closed up, and the little pensione where we had to stay didn’t even have television—or good magazines.”
    â€œYeah, imagine that, Doug wanting to read,” Drew said.
    â€œI don’t think he