Living Lies

by Dawn Brown

  He’d remember all right. How could he forget?

  Paige cracked the car window a half inch and lit another cigarette. The thin line of bluish smoke streamed steadily through the narrow space into the dark night. She glanced in her rearview mirror by habit more than anything else. She hadn’t seen another car for at least an hour.

  What had she been thinking, driving back to her mother’s after midnight when she could have been asleep in her own bed in her own apartment like a sane person?

  She knew why. The thin web of apprehension that had clung to her most of the day, leaving her edgy and anxious had led her here. Alone on an empty highway, jittery from what was undoubtedly too much caffeine.

  She rolled the window down enough so she could fit her hand through. The frigid wind whipped at her bare skin as she flicked the cigarette away. She lifted her gaze to the rearview mirror in time to see tiny orange sparks spiraling, then vanishing into the black.

  A row of thick pine trees rose up on the far side of the highway as she passed the Williams’ place. Another twenty minutes and she’d be home. A shudder passed through her. Not home, her mother’s house. That red brick shell hadn’t been home in years.

  God, when would she be free? Maybe she could demand that the detective deal with her. She had a life to go back to, after all. And a career. But if she wasted much more time here at the ends-of-the-earth, she may not even have that. Especially, with Lucy taking credit for her work. If she did make it back in time to salvage her career, she’d toss that little bimbo and her collection of ridiculously short skirts out on her ear.

  The image made her smile and gave her at least some sense of control over her life no matter how fleeting. She turned up the volume of the radio and tapped her fingernail on the steering wheel to Cher’s rendition of “Walking in Memphis”.

  What if Michelle’s murder did end up getting pinned on her father? A dull ache throbbed in her chest. The mere possibility left her cold. At least she wouldn’t be there to deal with the whole mess on a day-to-day basis.

  Paige did her best to ignore the guilt wiggling into her brain. Despite what Garret and Haley both thought of her, she did have a conscience. At the same time, she’d chosen to build a life away from Hareton, her family and Michelle, and she wasn’t about to be dragged back in. That Haley and Garret stayed was their decision.

  Tough talk for a woman driving back in the middle of the night because she had a bad feeling.

  She reached for the half-empty pack of cigarettes on the dash. She had bought them just before leaving the city. How to give yourself lung cancer in a month. A wry smile touched her lips, but fell away as her eyes lit on a slight figure trudging up the shoulder of the road.

  A chill swept through her body and she dropped the forgotten pack onto her lap. What kind of person wandered highways in the middle of the night? And where had they come from? She hadn’t seen a car, parked or moving, since forever.

  She pressed a little harder on the gas. Whoever would be walking along a highway in the middle of nowhere past midnight in December was clearly crazy. And Paige had a strict policy of not picking up insane people from the side of the road.

  Still, she let her gaze drift back to the rear mirror until the weirdo was out of sight. Relief seeped into her stiff muscles. Almost there.

  Movement ahead evaporated the small relief, and her heart started to pound as she came across another highway walker, remarkably similar to the one she’d only just passed. Long blonde hair whipped out from under the figures hood and Paige’s mouth went dry.

  She slowed the car, pulled onto the shoulder and stopped. Crazy. What was she doing? She needed to pull back onto the road and drive like mad until she reached her mother’s. But she didn’t move. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the mirror and the woman jogging up to the car with painfully familiar movements.

  Paige’s fingers trembled as she plucked a cigarette from the pack still in her lap, then slipped the filter between her lips. She needed both hands to light the stupid thing, one to hold the lighter, the other to keep the first from shaking.

  At the light tap on the passenger window, she lifted her gaze. Her sister peered through the glass. Michelle. But not the way Paige remembered her. With pale skin and sunken eyes, Michelle’s light blonde hair flailed crazily around her head.

  The cigarette fell from Paige’s gaping mouth, landing on her nylon-clad thigh, burning through the sheer fabric and into her flesh.

  “Son of a bitch,” she cursed, brushing it off her leg. The ember sparked and landed on the floor at her feet. She crushed the smoke into the mat with the heel of her boot and when she looked up, Michelle was gone.

  Her insides quivered as Paige climbed out of the car into the frigid air. Clutching herself around the middle, she circled the vehicle, but there was no sign of Michelle. Or that she’d ever been there. Not even footprints in the snow.

  “Michelle,” Paige said softly. Her voice sounded creepy in the quiet. “Michelle.” This time she yelled and cringed at the noise.

  No one answered. She was completely alone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A muffled pounding thudded behind Paige’s eyes, stretching out through the rest of her body until even her fingertips reverberated. With a groan, she buried her head under the pillow and willed the noise to stop, but the banging continued.

  Not morning already, not possible. She felt as if she’d only just fallen asleep minutes ago. Lifting the pillow slightly, she opened her eyes. Hard morning sun seeped through the slats in the blinds, striping the navy bedspread. She rolled and glanced at the clock next to the bed. Eight-thirty. God, she’d only been asleep for four hours.

  Her experience on the highway had kept her awake and sitting in the den, watching infomercials, for hours after she got home. Somewhere between an ad for a revolutionary exercise device that looked like a bunch of Bungee cords and another for a microwave omelet maker, she managed to convince herself that she’d imagined the whole thing.

  Was it any wonder? Everything in her life right then was about Michelle. And she had been exhausted. Her diet had consisted of little more than cigarettes and coffee. Hallucinating her dead sister on the side of the highway shouldn’t have been wholly unexpected.

  She closed her eyes and snuggled deeper under the heavy duvet, waiting for sleep to reclaim her, but the banging didn’t stop. What was that, and why wouldn’t it go away?

  Had her mother locked herself out after an early morning trip to the liquor store? No, too early. Maybe the old witch kept a secret stash outside since both Paige and Haley had been watering down the bottles in the den. Not only was it possible, but very likely that her dear mother had gone outside to collect her hidden bottle—from the garage, or under the porch, or buried in the snow—and while she was out there had somehow managed to lock herself outside. Now she beat on the door with one bony fist.

  At last the pounding stopped. She’d finally frozen to death. When Paige finally crawled out of bed, she would undoubtedly find her mother on the back stoop dressed in her dirty, pink robe, her colorless hair still matted with sleep, frozen in place with tiny icicles clinging to the tip of her nose and earlobes. One arm would be raised in mid-pound and a bottle of rye tucked under the other. Not a pleasant image.

  Paige forced her eyes open and flung back the covers. Her body ached as she stood, her muscles stiff and sore from lack of sleep. A special kind of crappy feeling similar to a hangover. She changed from the silky, gray nightgown she wore to a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  “She’s not here.” Her mother’s loud and annoyed voice boomed despite the closed door.

  Well, at least she isn’t frozen on the back step.

  “She won’t be back until later today,” her mother continued.

  “Her car is in the driveway.” Paige cringed at the sound of Erin’s voice. As if she didn’t feel lousy enough, now she had to deal with her sister-in-law.

  She opened the bedroom door and stepped i
nto the kitchen. “Good morning.” Though she expected anything but.

  “I need to speak to you,” Erin said, her expression ridiculously somber.

  “About what?” Paige stifled a yawn and the urge to roll her eyes.

  “I need to speak to you,” Erin said again, opening her eyes wide. She tilted her head and nodded toward Claire, bobbing her head like chicken with a stroke. Paige wanted to speak to Erin like she wanted a bikini wax, but the sooner Erin said whatever she’d come to say, the sooner she’d leave.

  “Mom, why don’t you go get dressed while I make your breakfast.”

  “It’s about time,” her mother muttered. “I thought I’d starve to death before you thought of me.”

  Wonderful, the old woman had woken reasonably sober and miserable. Paige took the bread from the fridge and popped a couple of slices into the toaster while Erin stood with her head cocked, listening to Claire climb the stairs. After a few moments, Erin peeked around the corner to make sure she was out of earshot. Satisfied, she turned back to Paige.

  “I was at the girls’ gymnastics class when I heard something terrible,” Erin said.

  Paige’s hands stilled and she waited for the inevitable, that her father was now a suspect in her sister’s murder.

  “I rushed right over as soon as I heard,” Erin continued. “There’s only twenty minutes left in the class so I need to be quick.”

  “Just say it.” Her voice sounded flat.

  “Someone broke into Haley’s house last night.”

  “Oh my God.” Paige turned to face Erin, her insides tight with fear. “Is she all right?”

  “Last I heard she was okay. She wasn’t home when it happened.”

  Paige relaxed a little. “Was anything stolen?”

  “Nothing,” Erin said. Her skin was pale and her eyes wide. “Whoever broke in had left all kinds of candles burning in her room and flowers in her bed.”

  “What kind of creep would do that? Did you speak to Haley?”

  “No, I haven’t seen her yet. I heard it from Patty-Sue Sullivan. Her brother-in-law was one of the cops who followed up on her call. And as if the break-in wasn’t bad enough, do you know who was with her when she got home, and who was still there when the police left?”

  Paige had a sick feeling she did know, but shook her head anyway.

  “Dean Lawson.” Erin said. “He seems to have taken a real interest in Haley.”

  Paige nodded, only half listening. Anger thick and blinding spilled over her until her hands shook with it.

  “She’s usually so down to earth. I can’t imagine why she would have anything to do with him. I would talk to her myself, but I don’t think she’d listen to me. Are you going to talk to her?”

  Paige nodded. Oh, she’d talk to Haley all right. Dean may not get the chance to kill her, because as angry as Paige was, she might just do the job herself.

  “I’ve got to get back,” Erin said. Her color had returned.

  “Fine. Thanks for telling me.”

  Erin smiled. “We’re family. We have to look out for each other.”

  Again Paige struggled to keep from rolling her eyes. Once Erin had gone, she fed her mother, showered, and dressed in record time.

  “I’ve got to go out for a couple of hours,” Paige said, before slipping out the door. Her mother didn’t bother to tear her gaze from the television screen. “I’ll be back before lunch.”

  “Don’t hide my car keys again,” her mother snapped, still staring at the flickering box. Paige shook her head and left.

  Haley scrambled through the deep snow, barely able to see past the falling flakes. The cold made her shiver and drained her of strength, but stark terror forced her on. Something hunted for her in the dark, hidden behind the fluttery white curtain.

  With gasping breaths, she struggled to move faster, but the snow grew deeper, almost swallowing her up to her hips. Half-panting, half-sobbing, she forced her legs forward, each small step costing her precious seconds and strength.

  The gurgling snarls of her monster rose above the howling wind. So close. She clawed at the snow, pulling herself free.

  As she gained her footing once more, the snow lessened, and through the tiny flakes, her grandmother’s house rose up against the black night like a beacon. Warm yellow light shone from the windows and she knew that if she could make it there, she’d be safe inside.

  Hot breath tickled the back of her neck as she clambered up the steps to the porch. She gripped the door handle and pressed down with her thumb, but nothing happened. The door was locked.

  Panic welled inside her as she pushed repeatedly on the handle, beating against the door with her fist. She screamed and begged almost incoherently, and all the while the snuffling grunts of the beast chasing her grew louder in her ears.

  Suddenly, the door gave, sending her stumbling forward. Michelle stood in the dark hall, pale and drawn. She leveled her empty black eyes on Haley.

  “He used to bring me flowers.”

  Something sharp dug into Haley’s shoulder—

  Haley sat straight up in her bed. Her heart skittered against her chest and an icy sweat slicked her body. A dream. Just a dream. She panted as if something really had been chasing her over some generic snowy expanse.

  Clutching her covers tightly to her chest, she looked around the guestroom, memories of the previous night rushing over her. After searching for her sister’s killer and having her house broken into, no wonder she’d had a nightmare.

  The candles and rose petals bothered her more than she’d let on. Too intimate and too personal. And too close to receiving the anonymous card and roses.

  Should she tell Dean about them? No way, he’d move in if she did. Bad enough he’d insisted on taking up residence on her sofa for the night. No need to encourage him to make the arrangement permanent.

  Haley threw back the covers and did her best to ignore the flutter in her belly at the thought. Just because the man was not a psychotic killer, that didn’t make him datable. She was a decade over her adolescent crush, and wouldn’t be falling back into it anytime soon.

  Once downstairs, she started the coffee then quietly went to the front door and collected the newspaper from the porch. As she started back to the kitchen, despite her better judgment, she tiptoed nearer to the couch.

  Dean lay stretched out on the flattened corduroy, one arm thrown over his head, the other on his chest. In sleep, the lines of his face seemed smoother, more relaxed. His lips parted slightly and again she found herself thinking how nicely shaped they were.

  When she had been fifteen, and he had flashed that slightly wicked grin, her insides had quivered. Just as they did now while her gaze drifted over the smooth flat muscles of his chest and followed the line of crisp black hairs between contours of his stomach, until it disappeared beneath the blanket at his narrow waist.

  She lifted her gaze back to his face and locked with his smoky green eyes. Oh, crap. Heat instantly burned her cheeks. He smirked and sat up a little.

  “I made coffee,” she muttered and turned away, unsure what words were appropriate when caught ogling a man in his sleep.

  The coffee had finished brewing when she returned to the kitchen. She could hear the rustle of fabric from the living room as Dean pulled on his jeans.

  “Haley,” he said as he came to stand beside her.

  “Here’s yours.” She slid a chipped mug with a Gary Larson cartoon on it toward him. “I don’t know how you take it.”

  “Black.”

  He hadn’t put his shirt on.

  “Easy to remember.” She dumped three spoonfuls of sugar into her own mug. “I’m going to clean the mess upstairs, then head to work.” Why did he have to stand so close to her? Like she wasn’t embarrassed enough. His body heat practically radiated from his bare skin. Avoiding his gaze, she moved toward the fridge for the cream.

  “Wait a second, would you?” His hand closed over hers. “Look at me.”

  She tried t
o pull her hand away, but he tightened his grip. “Could we not make a big deal about this?”

  With his other hand, he cupped her face and tilted her head up. She met his gaze, bright and hungry, before his mouth closed over hers.

  Heat pooled low in her belly, her eyes closed as she wrapped her free hand around his neck, pressing herself against the hard length of him. Sinking into him. His lips, the same lips she had fantasized about since she had been a love struck teenager, devoured hers, better than anything she had ever imagined.

  “Well, isn’t this a sorry sight.”

  Paige’s disdain-filled voice washed over Haley like a bucket of ice water. She stepped away from Dean as he turned around. Paige stood in the dining room, hands on her hips and eyes filled with fury.

  “Good morning Paige,” Dean said. “Coffee?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paige practically shook with pent up anger. “Get away from my sister.”

  Sensing the impending explosion, Haley moved so she stood in front of Dean. “What do you want Paige?”

  “A word, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Fine.”

  Haley followed Paige to the hall by the front door, wishing she didn’t feel like a traitor. She shouldn’t. Dean wasn’t responsible for what happened to Michelle and, hell, she was a grown woman. She could kiss any man she wanted to in her own home. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Still, that didn’t extinguish the guilt that flickered inside her when she saw betrayal in Paige’s eyes.

  “I cannot believe you’re sleeping with him.” Paige rounded on her as soon as they were out of Dean’s line of vision.

  “Keep your voice down,” Haley snapped with a harsh whisper. They may have been out of sight, but they were no where near out of earshot. “I didn’t sleep with him. He spent the night on the couch because he didn’t want me here alone after my house got broken into.” She gestured to the blanket and pillow lying in a forgotten heap on the sofa.

  “How noble. What was that I just walked in on?”