Deadly Deceptions by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

the cemetery once before.
    All those possibilities stuck in the bruised places in my heart like slowly turning screws.
    I couldn’t go to the school, or to the Erland home—at least, not without an excuse, and I hadn’t thought of one yet. I’d take a spin through the cemetery, though, I decided, on my way to Wal-Mart.
    My cell phone jingled inside my purse as I was pulling onto the 101, heading south. I upended the bag and fumbled for the phone, afraid to take my eyes off the road. Arizona drivers, I’ve gotta tell ya, are stone-crazy. Maybe it’s the serotonin, from all that sunlight. Seasonal affective disorder in reverse. Maybe it’s the flat, straight roads. Whatever it is, most of them drive like maniacs, and last time I checked Phoenix was the number one city in the country for red-light fatalities.
    â€œHello?” I said, swerving to avoid a white Expedition crossing in front of me to make a last-moment exit. “Tucker?”
    I hadn’t dared to glance at the caller ID panel before I answered; even a split second could have meant months in traction, and I don’t have that kind of spare time.
    â€œSorry,” Jolie said. “It’s only your sister. You know, the black one?”
    I was glad to hear her voice. “Yeah,” I replied, grinning. “I remember. What’s up?”
    â€œI’m on the job,” Jolie answered, and from the change in her tone I figured she must have cupped the phone with one hand, hoping her voice wouldn’t carry. For Jolie, “on the job” probably meant she was standing over a body. “Moje, this is bad.”
    â€œWhat?” I asked, navigating the road leading to the cemetery. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up checking in for good, and the adrenaline rush brought on by Jolie’s words wasn’t helping.
    â€œI can’t talk long,” Jolie said, hush-hush. “The short version is I’m standing in the desert about twenty yards from a corpse, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s Alex Pennington’s.”
    The Volvo’s tires squealed as I wrenched the car off the road, came to a stop in a restaurant parking lot. I was shaking. “No!”
    â€œYes,” Jolie replied with a sigh. “The uniforms are here, and homicide is on its way. But it’s Alex, all right. I’d know that asshole anywhere.”
    â€œWho found him? How was he killed?”
    â€œGotta go,” Jolie chimed, and hung up.
    Something Greer had said the night before stung my brain. For all I know, he’s lying dead in the desert somewhere.
    â€œShit,” I said to my empty car.
    She couldn’t have done it. She couldn’t have killed Alex. The Greer I knew, while self-absorbed and famously high maintenance, simply wasn’t capable of that.
    I shook off the agitation and switched the dial to damage control.
    How was I going to break news like this to Greer? Even though she’d hired me to get the goods on Pennington, I knew she loved the guy, even hoped to have a family with him, which was why I didn’t seriously entertain the notion that she might have killed him. I also knew she was still hoping he’d come out pure on the other end of my investigation. Instead, he’d come out dead.
    A new and even more alarming thought elbowed its way to the forefront of my mind. What if he haunted me?
    Goose bumps sprouted on my forearms, and even though it was a hundred degrees outside, I felt as though I’d just stepped into a meat locker.
    I did some deep breathing— Damn Fool’s Guide to Relieving Stress— and waited until the shaking subsided.
    What to do?
    Motor back to Greer’s and wait, pretending I didn’t know Alex was a goner, until the police called or dropped by to tell her what had happened?
    For one thing, I couldn’t pretend that well. For another, Greer probably wasn’t home. Even though she had a cast on her left