The Blue Journal by L.T. Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

out and you think you can tell the rest of us how to live. You’re not even a real part of this group. You’ve never shared a single genuine emotion with us. What the hell are you doing here if you’re so damned smart and so damned perfect?”
    â€œI never said I was perfect.” Elizabeth spoke slowly now, her lovely face set in a hard stare, her jaw clenched, her dark eyes aflame. “If you see me that way, it’s your problem Fran, not mine. I’m not going to sit here and make apologies for the way I live my life. You claim I should reveal more of myself? What a laugh. Why would I want to share anything with a bitter, jealous, used-up old housefrau like you?”
    Everything else in the room stopped as Fran launched herself out of her chair, moving so quickly that Dr. Conway could not prevent the attack. Fran lunged toward Elizabeth’s throat, her outstretched nails clawing their way across her neck. Elizabeth responded quickly, lashing out with the back of her hand, slapping Fran hard across the side of her face just as Randi Conway sprang forward and managed a deft tackle around Fran’s knees, dragging her to the carpeted floor. The other women, including Elizabeth, jumped to their feet. They all stood, watching as Dr. Conway got control of Fran, the two women ending up in a heap in the middle of the circle.
    â€œThat’s enough,” Randi hollered into Fran’s face, and the woman suddenly became still. Randi looked up at Elizabeth. “Are you all right?”
    Three bloody scratch marks ran across Elizabeth’s throat. They stung, but she would not say so. “I’m fine,” she sneered. “As long as I don’t get rabies.”
    â€œThat’ll be enough from you too.” Randi looked back to Fran, who lay beside her on the carpet, appearing now like a meek child just roused from a nap. “Are you okay?”
    Fran looked up uncertainly, then nodded.
    Randi got to her feet and offered her a hand. “Let’s resume our seats, ladies.”
    Fran ignored Randi’s outstretched arm, lifted herself to her knees, then stood, taking care to straighten out her blouse and skirt. When she sat, the other women also took their seats. All except Elizabeth.
    â€œYou see, Doctor?” Elizabeth demanded. “You encourage us to share our feelings and then what? I speak my mind and what do I have to show for it. This . . . this . . . lunatic tries to strangle me.” She reached up and gingerly touched the red marks on her neck.
    â€œPlease sit down, Elizabeth.” Randi spoke as calmly as she could, fighting the awful sense of professional failure, knowing that she had lost control of the group. “We have time left in this session and we obviously have some things to work out.”
    Elizabeth shot a venomous look at Fran, then turned back to Dr. Conway. “What’s the point?” she asked in a derisive tone. “To discuss our feelings?”
    â€œThat’s one thing we can certainly do,” Randi Conway responded.
    â€œYou want to know my feelings?” Elizabeth replied coldly. Then she turned slowly toward Fran. “I think you’re pathetic,” she said.
    Now, just two days later, Elizabeth was dead and, as Randi sat in the darkness of her dining room recalling that afternoon, her shock slowly turned to anxiety—and then to dread.

CHAPTER 7
    As Randi Conway dealt with the news of Elizabeth’s death, Thomas and Fran Colello were spending another unpleasant night at home. As Fran saw it, she was trying to make sense of their failed marriage. As far as her husband was concerned, he was merely fending off his wife’s latest angry tirade.
    She claimed to want answers about why things had gone so wrong between them, but there were no answers he was willing to give. More than that, he didn’t believe she wanted to hear anything he had to say.
    He swore that he still