Dead Giveaway by Leann Sweeney Read Free Book Online

where I was last night. Here with my friends and my parents is what I told him. Then he talked to Dad. They don't think I'd hurt her, do they? I mean—''
      ''Listen, Will, your parents would probably like to be around when we talk this over. How about I drop by in, say, thirty minutes?''
      ''Sure, okay. I'll let Mom know you're coming so she won't think you're some reporter knocking on the door. She is super-stressed about reporters, anyway. They're always hanging around during the season, and this sounds like something they'd love to dig into.''
      ''I'm sure they would. See you at eight.'' I disconnected.
       Eight . . . jeez, I thought as I closed my phone and set it on the nightstand. I got up, headed for the bathroom and stumbled over Jeff's running shoes. I couldn't complain: Mine were a few steps beyond his. I picked up both pairs and tossed them into a corner, saying, ''Cold water, work some magic. I need to get my brain in gear fast.''

    I realized the coffee aversion that had surfaced last night after seeing Verna Mae buried in wet grounds was persisting, this enlightenment coming after I made an optimistic stop at a Starbucks drive-through on my way to the Knight home. The strong coffee smell waft ing out the window made me want to puke, so I ordered chai tea. Never had it before, but Kate swears by the stuff—not that I'd ever tell her I'd voluntarily ventured to the fringe of her organic, all-natural, soyfilled world. I needed caffeine if I planned to have a coherent conversation with anyone, and the girl at the window said the tea worked as well as a tall latte.
      Will's parents lived in an older, redbrick house on a wooded street in Bellaire, a city that blended with Houston on the southwest side near the Galleria shopping mall. Since it was Saturday morning, a few joggers manned the sidewalks, but most of Bellaire was still waking up. The air was thick with humidity after last night's rain, despite the early morning hour. So much for my refreshing shower. My skin felt sticky when I pressed the doorbell at the Knight home, and I wished I'd worn shorts and a tank top rather than jeans and a stretchy green shirt. This spandex fashion fixation was not created with Houston weather in mind.
      Mrs. Knight answered the door, and the cheery face I recalled from the last time we'd met was darkened by concern. ''Good morning, Ms. Rose. Will told us you were coming.'' She widened the door for me to enter.
      ''Like I said the other day, please call me Abby,'' I said.
      ''Sorry. I forgot. We're having breakfast and I made plenty. Can I fix you a plate?''
      ''Uh, sure. Sounds good.'' Hungry or not, I knew better than to refuse a meal. I didn't know Will's mom well enough yet to determine how hardcore Texan she was.
      She led me through a home eerily similar to my own with its small foyer and living area, but an overstuffed sectional sofa and a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace offered the homey touch that my place lacked. I definitely needed a house makeover.
      The kitchen was larger than mine and obviously the center of family life. An additional fireplace with a love seat in front filled one corner. A curving breakfast bar separated the kitchen area from an alcove with built-in seating bordering the bay window. Will was sitting on the farthest edge of the cushioned bench so that his legs could stretch out unhindered by the pedestal base. His sandy-haired father sat across from him with the metro section of the Houston Chronicle spread out on the table. Probably reading about last night's murder.
      ''Sam, fetch Abby a chair from the dining room, would you?'' Annabelle Knight said.
      Sam Knight stood and smiled, as did his son. Weird seeing them together. Mr. Knight couldn't be more than two inches taller than me, which put him at about five-six or -seven. Then there was monster Will. He was so muscular and tall, he could have picked up his dad under one arm and his little bit of a mom