Grace Doll by Jennifer Laurens Read Free Book Online

the world would pay big to know Grace Doll is still alive. Not to mention this Soloman dude who, if I had to bet, is counting on getting some intel from me. Possibilities speed through my brain: money. Tons of money. Unlimited opportunities. Fame.
    But fame doesn’t interest me. In fact, even with the money taunting me I know I’d be pegged an opportunist once the story got out. Disgruntled son leaks aged movie star’s whereabouts for fame and fortune.
     
     
    I can trust you to do whatever needs to be done.
     
     
    Trust.
    Hell. I blow out a sigh.
    Roscomare Road is dark with thick trees so houses aren’t visible from the street, only tips of driveways protected by electric gates. Scattered streetlamps are lit, but that only adds to the emptiness. A black town car idles across from Dad’s house. Its parking lights glow like red eyes. The funeral and gathering was over hours ago. I can’t see who is inside, the windows are tinted. But the moment I pass, the engine of the car starts up. My palms start to sweat. I watch the sedan through my rearview mirror. It drives away.
    A shiver cools my skin. I scan burly bushes the length of the driveway and every dark burrow on my way to the front door. Dad’s place is dark. Who knows where Judy is. I figured she wouldn’t stick around. Over the last three months I’d lived here whenever Dad had needed anything she’d sighed like he was imposing, like she was checking her watch, waiting for him to kick the bucket. Maybe it was because I took care of Mom, but I couldn’t stand by and watch anybody treat a dying person like they didn’t matter anymore. She and I had had our share of shouting matches over it.
    I don’t care where she is, I’m just glad she’s not here. Inside, the halls whisper with my footsteps on hardwood.
    I enter the guest bedroom but keep the lights off and cross to the windows, peer out. The room has a view of the street. Through the trees and bushes I see a black Bentley. The car slowly passes in front of the house, headlights off, then parks across the street where it had parked before. What the hell? Why am I paranoid? This is Bel Air, not the valley. And that car could be out there for a number of reasons: namely any of the neighbors.
    After a thorough check of every door in the house, I shut myself in the bedroom. One last check out the window: the car‘s gone.
    Still, when I try to relax enough to fall asleep, I can’t.
    I spend most of the night staring at the photograph of Grace Doll propped against the base of the lamp on my nightstand.
    Grace Doll.
    She’s alive.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Six
     
     
    The next morning I shower, dress in jeans, a tee shirt and hoodie, and grab my backpack. Dad’s letter seems to beg me to take it. I wouldn’t put it past Judy to go through my things so I stuff it, and the picture of Grace Doll, into my pocket alongside the safe deposit box key.
    Judy’s shuffling slippers scratch at the morning quiet. She’s somewhere in the house. I make a beeline for the front door, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, ready for her to—
    “Where are you going?”
    “Out.”
    “Out where?”
    “Out.”
    “You pulling one of your father’s disappearing acts?”
    “Job hunting,” I lie.
    “You’d better. You have two weeks.” She screeches from the open door. “When are you going to tell me what Dick wanted, anyway? I deserve to know! Debile !”
    Judy swears in French. Like it’s any better coming out of her in another language? I snort. Morning air chases me along the brick pathway to where the VW van is parked at the side of the house.
    Truth is I don’t know where I’m going, I just know I’m not staying at the house. If Dad’s life with Judy was anything like mine is, I feel sorry for him. Why did he stay with her? How much torture could a man take?
    Screw this.
    I head to the beach.
    I crank the old AM radio. Ancient rock rasps out of