Murder at Barclay Meadow by Wendy Sand Eckel Read Free Book Online Page A

missed her soccer games. I wondered how they could possibly endure such a tremendous loss. I shrugged off a shiver and looked for Annie.
    Two girls clutched the top of her shorts and lifted her into the air.
    â€œOh, my.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. Annie caught the tossed ball and before I could discern what happened, there she was again on the ground in the fetal position.
    â€œSlam her down,” a voice called.
    I turned around. “Why don’t they wear helmets?” I asked one of the boys. “Or some sort of padding?”
    â€œBecause this is rugby, man,” he said, slurring his words, eyelids at half mast. “Kill her!” Spittle sprayed from his mouth.
    I turned back to the game. Annie was on the sidelines. She pulled her jersey over her head and handed it to a girl waiting to go out on the field. I gasped. Annie was in nothing but a small pair of navy rugby shorts and a sports bra. Surely Duke could afford an adequate number of jerseys.
    â€œHey, is that your daughter down there?” one of the boys said from behind me.
    â€œYes.” I relaxed a little when I saw a girl hand Annie a T-shirt.
    â€œShe’s awesome.”
    I looked back at him. He appeared to be more sober than the others and was the only one without a cap pulled low over his eyes. “Thanks.” I smiled and faced the field again.
    â€œHello, Rose.”
    My mouth fell open as I stared into my husband’s face.
    â€œQuite a game.” He was smiling, his teeth white against his tanned skin. He wore a brown suede jacket with elbow patches I had never seen before. A Ralph Lauren logo was stitched on the pocket. Apparently he still had access to the bank accounts.
    A tall, thin blonde stood next to him. He brought her here ? I stole another glance at her. She was the complete opposite of me—skinnier, blonder, and younger. Smooth, straight hair framed a pretty but expressionless face. She was dressed in a tweed blazer. A wool skirt hugged her ridiculously narrow figure and fell to a very expensive pair of chocolate brown boots with spiky, mudless heels. Well, of course she would be able to pull off the heels.
    â€œAnnie’s playing great,” Ed said. “She’s definitely the one to pass to.”
    â€œIt’s a pretty brutal game,” I said, fighting hard to keep my voice from quivering.
    â€œShe can handle it,” Ed said. “Oh, Rose, this is Rebecca.”
    Rebecca finally meets the ghost wife. Our eyes locked—a flash of connection like flint igniting the ache burning in my gut. We both looked quickly away. He brought her here. She would meet my Annie. He really was in love with her.
    I cleared my throat. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”
    â€œOf course I came. Our daughter is going to Duke. I couldn’t wait to get here.” He was being overly enthusiastic. I wanted him to shut up. Yes, she got into Duke, something I helped her do while he was in our bed with his paramour.
    The crowd roared. Annie was clutching the ball. She had scored a goal. Her much taller teammates pounded her back and smacked her head. Annie grinned while she tried to stay on her feet. I waved. She saw me and waved back. Then she saw her dad. For a brief moment the smile disappeared as she took in the undomesticated scene. But it returned and she trotted over to her team.
    I looked back at Ed. I wanted to speak, but my larynx had locked up. This was all wrong. It was our only daughter’s first parents’ weekend and instead of meeting her roommates and getting to know the other parents, I was standing face-to-face with the woman my husband ended twenty-three years of marriage for. The ache rose into my throat. I wasn’t up to this. Not yet. Not ever.
    Rebecca examined her French manicure.
    â€œSo, how are you?” Ed said. “You look wonderful. Have you lost weight?”
    â€œWhat did you say?”
    â€œI said you look