Magic Moment by Angela Adams Read Free Book Online Page A

your father’s involved.” She stared at him. “Are you afraid I’ll go to the police? I won’t. I meant what I said. I don’t want anyone to know.”
    Dick Donovan had many qualities, some of which didn’t sit well with his son. Dick being involved in tonight’s disaster was a combination of sick and laughable. But if Chase disputed her, he would only upset her further and she was starting to relax.
    “Dick Donovan is my father, but if he’s responsible for hurting you, he’ll pay like anyone else,” he said. “There’s something screwy going on. I need to find out what it is, and keep you safely hidden in the process.”
    • • •
    The minuscule, windowless room had a toilet, shower stall, and a sink. A mirror, no bigger than an 8" × 10" photograph frame, hung on the wall. Laura had a faint memory of Chase talking to the loading dock workers about a boat he kept at this small island. He enjoyed being here, he said, the serenity, the quiet. Magic Lake Island was his “get away from it all” place.
    She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, slowly lifted her eyelids and gazed at her reflection. This horror had actually happened. Her blood, dried to the color of a vinegary Merlot, matted her golden hair. She inspected the thin, pink line along her jaw and cringed at the bruises spotting her face. She eyed the shower, desperately wanting the cleansing surge of warm water where lecherous, groping fingerprints lingered. Not a good idea, standing naked in a shower. A blush heated her face despite the shudder that ran through her. Should she fall on her wobbly legs, Chase had already seen more than she was comfortable with.
    Filling up the sink with cold water, she took the liquid soap container from the wall-rack inside the shower stall. Pumping woodsy-smelling fluid generously into her hand, she washed every part of flesh, the chilly water nearly numbing her body, until she couldn’t feel anything any longer. She finished by lightly finger-combing her damp hair.
    Up until two days ago, life had been commonplace. She was simply Laura Roberts. An everyday bookkeeper for an ordinary produce warehouse. She got up every morning, went to work, performed her duties in a professional manner, and was affable in her dealings with vendors, staff, and customers. She lunched at the diner, sometimes joining another Food Mall employee, other times reading a book or magazine for company. At the end of the day, she returned to the simple condo she had recently purchased. Her first time living alone.
    Living alone, being the only person at home, was new to Laura. After college and a dorm mate, she had moved back to the home she had grown up in, a step none of her friends understood. Life dictated a woman went to college, got a job and moved out on her own.
    Laura enjoyed living with her mother. They had always been close. Always enjoyed doing things together, talking, shopping, baking cookies and bread for their neighbors at the Christmas holidays. Perhaps because her father had died when Laura had been so young, and growing up, mother and daughter had always had each other. Laura had always considered her mother her best friend. With her and Ann Roberts, there had never been any of the rebellious mother/daughter, tug-of-war, conflicts that Laura’s friends had related about their own mothers.
    Which was why her mother’s death had hurt so much. Laura hadn’t just lost the person who had given birth to her, but her pal, her confidante, her sounding board. While she was growing up, Laura’s best memories were of Saturday flea market shopping with her mother, followed by lunch at The Food Court.
    In college, Laura had gotten a business degree because she and her mother had been saving for Laura’s dream, to open an antique shop on Philadelphia’s Antique Row. When Ann Roberts died, Laura’s ambition for the project went with her.
    Laura had sold the family home, the dwelling just too lonely by herself. She’d walk in the