Now You See Her by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page A

to know you and realized how incredible we were together, I knew it was true.”
    “Not an angel, a mermaid,” I said, sniffling.
    “Exactly,” Peter said, wiping a tear off my nose. “You’re the first thing in a long time, maybe the only thing ever, that actually makes me want to get out of bed and floss my teeth and balance my checkbook. You understand? I’m not Alex. I’m not some asshole. I’d do anything. I’d die before hurting you. I’d burn this shit-heel, sunburned tourist trap to the ground, if you wanted me to. I’d—”
    “Oh, Peter,” I said, crying as I kissed him. “I know. I’m sorry. My Saint Peter, my love,” I said, burying my face in his shoulder.

Chapter 18
    ON FRIDAY NIGHT, exactly one week before our trip to Palm Beach, I was sitting on the couch, thinking about going to bed early. But at the last second, I decided to throw caution to the wind and put my flip-flops on and head out to the island’s only Blockbuster, half a mile away on North Roosevelt Boulevard.
    Peter was pulling a double, directing traffic at some road construction on the Overseas Highway up in Big Pine Key, so I was flying solo. Being much more of a classic movie buff than he was, I decided I couldn’t waste the home-alone opportunity to indulge in a late-night Alfred Hitchcock double feature. I snagged
The Birds
and
North by Northwest
off the shelf.
    I was a foot out the door when I hit the Unlock button on my car key fob and heard the faint bloop-bloop.
    No, wait, I thought as I suddenly spotted my battered blueVespa at the curb. What was I thinking? I’d taken the moped. Our new Toyota Supra was still with Peter at work.
    I stopped and stared down at my car key fob, confused. Why had I heard the car beep, then?
    I scanned the parking lot as I thumbed Unlock a second time. I turned to my left as the double bloop sounded out faintly again.
    What the heck? It seemed to be coming from across the street.
    I stepped past my Vespa to the edge of the sidewalk that rimmed the strip mall’s lot and hit the fob one last time.
    In a parking lot directly across North Roosevelt Boulevard, a parked car’s lights went on and off with the familiar electronic bloop.
    I stared across at it. It was sleek, black, brand-new. What the hell? I squinted at the Florida license plate. Yep, it was ours. It was our Supra.
    But why was it there? I thought. Shouldn’t it be parked at police headquarters? Shouldn’t it be at Peter’s job?
    Then I made the mistake of reading the lit sign on the building behind the car.
    A sickening numbness sprouted in the pit of my stomach and began expanding upward, outward, filling my chest like a swallowed balloon.
    BEST WESTERN , the sign said.

Chapter 19
    CARS WENT BACK AND FORTH on North Roosevelt as I stood there, staring at the shiny black hood of Peter’s car sitting in the Best Western parking lot.
    OK, I finally thought as my shock eased up slightly a long five minutes later.
    Slowly now, I urged myself.
    Think this through
.
    I tried. Nothing would come. It was fruitless. There wasn’t anything to think about. Even an idiot like me knew what finding your husband’s car in a motel parking lot meant.
    One word surfaced in my swirling mind. It made sense that it had four letters. As I stood there, it was as if each one was being struck into the surface of my brain with the heavy-handed pound of an old-fashioned typewriter.
    L-I-A-R.
    Peter was a liar.
    There was no construction job at Big Pine. No overtime. I also figured there was no DEA assignment and never had been. Peter
had
lied about the other night and about all the other double shifts over the last two months.
    As I stood on the sidewalk in the dark across from the Best Western, the thing that struck me most—more than hurt, more than even anger—was the sudden knowledge of exactly how vulnerable I was.
    Because my whole life revolved around Peter, I realized. The house was his, and so were the car and the boat. In the last two