The Final Victim by Wendy Corsi Staub Read Free Book Online Page B

it was an odd thing for her to say. For some! reason , the image just popped into her head. And now that it's there, she can't seem to make light of it.
        "I just mean, it wouldn't be easy if I had to," she tells Royce.
        "Well, you wouldn't have to. I'd scoop you up and carry you away from whoever was chasing you."
        "Who would be chasing me?"
        "I don't know… a pack of ardent male admirers?"
        She looks up to find him smiling at her-and promptly stumbles over a rock.
         You really should have worn flats , she chides herself ruefully, returning her gaze to her feet as she resumed picking her way along the slope.
        Yes, but these heeled sandals lengthen her bare legs, and they're a bright coral-red to match her favorite sun-J dress. Royce's favorite sundress, really-which makes it ,in turn, her own.
        She usually doesn't like to bare her shoulders, be cause of an unsightly birthmark on her right shoulder But sometimes, the oppressive summer heat allows com fort to outweigh concern about her appearance.
        She still recalls the way his eyes lit up in appreciation the first time he saw her in this particular outfit, back when they were first dating. He didn't even seem to notice the birthmark.
        "You look like a luscious lobster," he said with a low whistle, and she couldn't help but laugh.
         "A lobster? Is that the best you can do?" He nuzzled her neck and said, "Lobster is a well-known aphrodisiac."
        "I thought that was oysters."
        "Well, you don't look a bit like an oyster," was his response, and they shared a laugh.
        A whirlwind courtship, a year of marriage, and still madly in love-this, she thinks often, in gratitude laced with relief, is how marriage should be.
        Thank God, thank God, thank God for Royce. Royce, who healed her in so many ways. She emerged from her marriage to Vincent not just a bereaved mother, but a barren wife as well.
        Her first husband lost interest in her sexually the moment she told him she was pregnant with Adam. Her gynecologist, when she reluctantly turned to him in despair, assured her that it was a fairly common syndrome in men, and that once the baby was born, and she regained her figure, and life settled back to normal, Vincent would want her again. That didn't happen. Ever.
        It wasn't until Royce came along that Charlotte discovered what it was to be truly desired, unconditionally. Truly loved.
        Thank God, thank God, thank God for Royce. With him, her life is complete.
         As complete as it can ever be. Even a loving husband can't fill the hollow place left by Adam's death. But if Royce hadn't come along…
        Who knows what might have happened to her? Who knows how she would have managed to go on living?
        There was a time, after she lost Adam, when she didn't want to. When she even considered seeing to it that she wouldn't have to.
        She knew from experience that the world would go on spinning without her; that in time, she'd be just ail other scandalous skeleton in the Remington family closet.
        After all, she wouldn't be the first young Remington mother to commit suicide.
        Thank God she backed away from the edge of that precipice. But she's never forgotten what it felt like to teeter there, not even caring that her life hung in the balance.
         If anything ever happens to Royce, or to Lianna -
        She curtails the chilling thought with an oft-repeated reminder that she's endured her share of sorrow.
        Nothing will happen to her husband or daughter.
        They're both safe.
        There will be no more tragedy in Charlotte's life.
        Nagging fear is a natural result of all that's happened to her, and to Royce.
        She can let it consume her, or she can ignore it.
         I've got to ignore it , she thinks resolutely, lifting her Remington chin with conviction.
     
     
        "Where