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

years, my six-dollar-an-hour, off-the-books catering job had paid for what? Some clothes from the Gap? The occasional meal?
    I had nothing, I realized. Not even the University of Florida academic scholarship I had blown off when brilliant old me decided to throw caution to the wind and pull a Jimmy Buffett and take that last plane out.
    I’d put all my chips on Peter, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that his car across the street meant that I’d lost big time.
    No, wait a second. Correction, I thought, cupping my stomach.
    It wasn’t just me who had lost big time.
    So had my brand-new baby on board.
    Well, what did you expect, Jeanine?
screeched my next thought.
    This new internal voice was my mother’s, I realized. The unforgettable tone was her black, drunken raging that occurred more and more after my dad’s death.
    Are you really that stupid, Jeanie Beanie? What kind of copwould cover up a man’s death? What kind of cop would get rid of a body? An Eagle Scout? Did you really think you could make a bloody mess and not have to pay for it? And while we’re on the subject of bloody messes, what’s up with the
machine pistol
you found on your handsome husband’s boat?
    A hair-raising pulse of terror gripped the back of my neck like a claw. I reared back until my shoulder blades found the video store’s wall. I started sliding down it until my butt touched the cold, hard concrete.
    The traffic went by obliviously on the dark street as I covered my face with my hands like a toddler trying to make herself disappear. At that moment I realized something for the first time.
    It had somehow completely escaped me.
    I had taken everything Peter had told me about himself at face value.
    I really had no idea at all who Peter was.

Chapter 20
    IT WAS ABOUT ten soul-annihilating minutes later when one of the motel’s ground-floor rooms opened and a man exited.
    Even though I’d been expecting it, it still felt like an uppercut to the chin when I saw that it was Peter.
    That wasn’t the only blow, either. Peter was wearing a suit. It was a tailored dark blue one I’d never seen before, an Armani maybe.
    I started sobbing. How could this be happening? How could the man who’d introduced me to “Brandy” and
The Princess Bride
and the joys of Japanese beer be the world’s biggest lying scumbag?
    I watched Peter as he scanned the parking lot carefully. Seemingly satisfied, he pulled the motel room door closed behind him and headed for the Supra.
    I turned and broke into a run for my moped as he opened the car door.
    Was whoever he was with still in the room? I wondered, still flabbergasted. Or maybe they hadn’t met yet. Maybe he was going to pick her up?
    “Hey, can I be the fifth wheel on your date, you son of a bitch?” I said to myself, truly losing it as I gunned my Vespa to life. “Thanks, Peter. Don’t mind if I do. Sexy suit, by the way.”
    Duval Street, Key West’s main strip, was staggering room only as I buzzed onto it two cars behind Peter’s Supra a few minutes later.
    With its packed bars and outdoor street stalls that sold beer and rum the way Coney Island sold hot dogs, Duval Street was to Key West what Bourbon Street was to New Orleans. Except in Key West, it seemed that Mardi Gras was every night.
    I pulled to the curb in front of a crowded bar as Peter turned the car into a side alley beside a T-shirt shop and parked. What now, Peter? I thought. Some drinking and dancing? A late dinner perhaps?
    My clenching hands shook on the moped’s sweat-slicked rubber handlebars. I
still
couldn’t believe this was happening.
    I sat waiting about a block back, scanning the Friday night sidewalk parade of navy aviators, drag queens, college kids, beach bums, and trendy millionaire couples on vacation. Peter appeared a few moments later from the alley. He was holding a small green duffel bag now, I noticed.
    How do you like that? I thought as he headed south through the crowd. Maybe Peter’s alter