Twice Kissed. Lisa JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Have you heard from Marquise?”
“No. She hasn’t called.”
“Oh. I…I don’t know what to say. But, believe me, if I can be of any help, just let me know.”
“I will,” Maggie lied as she hung up.
Becca, in her room, waited until she heard the click, then replaced her receiver. Through the thin walls of the cabin, she’d heard most of the conversation between her mother and Thane Walker, Marquise’s first husband. When the phone had rung, she’d picked up, but before she’d been able to answer, her mother had started talking.
From what she could gather, Marquise was missing, no one knew why, but Thane wanted her mother to go to Denver with him. Her mom was worried about her sister. Becca smiled to herself in the darkness. She wasn’t worried about Marquise. Marquise was too smart and pretty, too much of a celebrity to be in any kind of real trouble.
Becca watched the blue bubbles gently rising in the base of her lava lamp. She liked the fact that Thane was trying to talk her mother into going to Denver. In fact, that was perfect. If Becca worked things right, she’d be able to con her mom into letting her visit her cousin in L.A. Hadn’t Aunt Connie offered any kind of help?
For the first time in a long while, Becca felt a ray of hope. Maybe there was a chance that she could get out of this loser, hole-in-the-wall town that her mother thought was heaven. In Becca’s opinion, Settler’s Ridge, Idaho, was the pits.
“Just think on it,” Thane suggested as he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. He watched as a gamut of emotions crossed Maggie’s face, and, along with a sense of satisfaction in knowing she was going to agree, he felt a second’s hesitation, a tiny grain of guilt that pricked at his conscience.
“I’m not sure.” She glanced at the phone again, as if willing Marquise to call. It wasn’t going to happen.
“I’ll be back in the morning.” He reached for the door and saw the hesitation in her eyes. She didn’t know whether to invite him to stay or not. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to spend the night here. “You can let me know then.” As he walked through the door a blast of wind cut through him like a razor. He eyed the sky as snow continued to fall and hoped that they weren’t in for a blizzard.
Inside the truck, he flicked on the engine, lights, and wipers, then switched the radio to a local news station. Above the static came a brief report that started with a local shooting. As he threw his rig into reverse, the beams from its headlights flashed against the house and he saw Maggie at the window, arms folded under her breasts, eyebrows drawn together pensively, mouth compressed. A beautiful woman. More beautiful than her more high-profile sister, though she didn’t know it. Probably the reason she held so much more appeal.
Fool, his mind taunted, and he saw the reflection of his eyes in the rearview mirror. Blue-gray, hard, and glinting with a twinge of lust. He’d always been an idiot where the Reilly girls were concerned, probably always would be. Calling himself a dozen kinds of moron, he cranked the wheel and drove down the lane until he found a wide spot in the road, where he pulled off and cut the engine.
Reaching behind him to the compartment that held his essentials, he dragged out a down sleeping bag, draped it around himself, then opened the glove box and retrieved a pocket flask. Unscrewing the cap, he smiled grimly to himself. “Here’s to you, Walker, you miserable son of a bitch.” He took a long tug, felt the rye whiskey splash against the back of his throat, then burn a welcome path to his gut. Not satisfied, he lifted the flask again to his lips, swallowed long and hard, then screwed on the cap and settled in for what promised to be a long, cold, and probably fruitless vigil. But he had to wait; he couldn’t take a chance that he’d been played for a fool again.
Maggie, help me, please! Remember how Thane used you, how he used me. Whatever you do, don’t trust Thane Walker!
Maggie’s eyes flew open. Her heart pounded and sweat poured off her. Mary Theresa’s voice was as clear as if she’d been in the room. But she wasn’t. Maggie was alone in her bed, in the cabin near Settler’s Ridge. She swallowed back the fear that dried her mouth and pounded through her brain as the digital clock blinked a bright red three-seventeen. The dream had been so real, she wasn’t convinced it hadn’t happened. The three of them, Mary Theresa, Thane, and Maggie, had been standing at the edge of a ravine, the precipice high over a black abyss that seemed to have no bottom. Mary Theresa, laughing and flirting, had stepped backward.
“Don’t!” Maggie had cried.
“Here, grab my hand!” Thane had ordered, as Mary Theresa’s bright expression had fallen away and sheer terror had contorted her face. The earth beneath her feet had crumbled. She’d scrambled, her skin blanching, her eyes wide with panic.
“Thane!” she’d cried, and he lunged forward as if to catch her.
Maggie had screamed as his expression had turned to hatred and the hand he’d offered her sister had been used to push her farther over the edge.
“No!” Maggie had yelled, but it had been far too late.
Marquise began falling, her arms and legs frantically flailing as she became ever fainter, and the yawning black hole swallowed her completely. Thane, his features once again calm, had turned and faced her as if she was his next victim. That’s when she’d heard Mary Theresa’s voice again.
Now, the nightmare still palpable, Maggie sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her insides were shaking, her pulse thudding deep in her brain.
“Mom?”
She gasped, only to see Becca, a pale figure in the doorway. “Good Lord, you scared me,” she admitted, clicking on the bedside lamp.
“You scared me.” Becca, still wearing the jeans and sweatshirt she’d had on when she’d been thrown by Jasper, was leaning on the doorframe, her injured foot cocked, her other leg bearing all her weight. She blinked against the sudden wash of light, and her hair was a tangled mess, evidence that she’d been sleeping.
“Sorry. I had a bad dream. A nightmare.”
“About Marquise,” Becca guessed.
“Yes.” Giving herself a quick mental shake, she stood and walked to the doorway. “I’m sorry, honey. I guess I’m just worried.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s get you back to bed, and I’ll get some more ice and—”
“I’m okay, Mom, really.” Becca yawned. “You just weirded me out. You’ve been acting so strange lately. Today in the barn when you were on your knees, and now with the screaming.” Becca’s teeth sunk into her lower lip. “It’s kinda creepy.”
“Oh, honey.” Without thinking, Maggie wrapped her arms around her daughter, and for once Becca didn’t squirm away. “The last thing I want is to be creepy.”
Becca managed a nervous giggle as she slid out of her mother’s embrace. “I know you’re worried about Marquise, and I heard you and Thane talking about you helping him.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed on her daughter. “I wasn’t really eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear,” Becca added hastily, her gaze sliding away from her mother’s. “So why don’t you go find out what happened to her?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. The neighbors will take care of the horses, your book isn’t due for another couple of months, I could miss a few days of school and stay with my friends or Aunt Connie and Uncle Jim in L.A….”
“So that’s what this is all about,” Maggie said, wondering how conniving her daughter was becoming. As the years rolled by it seemed that Becca was developing her own sense of how to manipulate people. Just like Mary Theresa.
“But you could help find Marquise.”
“I