Number Seventy-Five by Ashley Fontainne Read Free Book Online

tarmac.
    “Another reason I prefer crystal clear pools to swim in. Less worry about what lies beneath.”
    My fake laughter sounded so foreign to my ears because all I felt on the inside was dormant fury. Like the volcanoes that created Dominica eons ago, my hatred for my former best friend bubbled and churned, waiting impatiently to erupt. The façade of concerned friend, one who truly wished to mend the broken heart of her distraught best friend, was making me nauseous.
    We hailed a cab and silence ensued between us as we each stared out the windows at the breathtaking scenery. I smiled and thought about paradise. Shawna certainly wasn’t headed there when she departed this world, so I guess she would have to settle for dying in it. At least her final resting place wouldn’t be in some dank cave. She was lucky.
    I felt the apprehension seeping from her. I knew her mind was plotting my death just as mine was hers. Our minds both burned into overdrive as we each neared the end of our races. Simpatico sisters we were, but only one of us knew that.
    I had been on guard ever since Detective Milton had driven me home to Bainsville. The ride home had been quiet, and my previous assumption that he had offered me a lift stemmed from his eagerness to continue questioning me had been way off base. He had been quiet and just let me think, only talking if I spoke first. I had pretended to doze off a few times and just let my brain wander, the inner beast called revenge had fully taken control. But that monster also was keenly aware that another predator was in its territory. A stealthy slayer that wanted revenge for her brother’s death and my money.
    Too bad she would not experience either.
    Shawna had circled me like dinner when I arrived back home and turned her predatory growls into loving coos. She gushed. She cried. She apologized for what her brother had done to me. She thanked me for being strong enough to stand by her side while she said her final goodbyes to him. She even publically announced that I was all the family she had left, and we would lean on each other for emotional support during this sorrowful time. Heartfelt words were choked out from the pulpit at her brother’s funeral so everyone would hear her speak of her love and devotion to me.
    She marveled at my strength and will to live and to have escaped the clutches of death. She swooned with mock horror every time the news reported on the case and managed to shed a few real tears when her brother’s face appeared on the screen. We talked on the phone and the night I told her about her surprise birthday trip to Dominica, she howled with delight. And why shouldn’t she have? I had just handed her the opportunity to plan a tragic accident during our vacation.
    It was obvious to me that she was trying to figure out exactly what I knew, what I didn’t know, and what my weaknesses were so she could plan accordingly.
    Both of us were living the old adage about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer. Hell, we were so close we could have shared the same skin. She did her best to hide her anger, careful to control her voice, her facial muscles, and her words when around me. But the eyes aren’t so easy to control. Her performance was impeccable to others around her.
    But I saw right through it, perhaps because I was playing the same role on the other side of the theater.
    The press hounded us both for blood like a hungry tick does when looking to hitch a ride on the ol’ huntin’ dog. When they discovered the strange twist that involved our friendship, they were relentless. My father made national news when he was caught on film standing on his front porch early one foggy morning a few days after I arrived back. His hair had been mussed and his eyes full of anger as he clutched his shotgun in his hand and told the brazen young reporter from New York to get the hell off of his land.
    There was nowhere to hide from their pesky intrusion, so all of us,