Read Online A Shattered Wife by Diana Salyers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Diana Salyers
Tags: Thrillers, alpha male, Mystery & Suspense, psychological thriller, Mystery & Thrillers, Dementia, Psychological Suspense, suspense books, suspense novels, horror books, scary books, psycological horror, suspense stories, evil stories
Ads: Link
him," Martha said, knowing
at that moment that she was choosing between her husband and her son. About a
hundred years ago in a hospital room she made a promise. She told Bill she
would always be there. She meant it.
Too soon for Martha, they were standing in the driveway
beside William’s car. "Is he asleep?" William asked and wondered if
his father could have faked the whole fainting episode.
Martha nodded.
"At least get someone out here to help you,"
William pleaded.
"We’ll see." Martha’s stand-by answer for "No."
Neither mother nor son heard the bedroom window slide open
six inches. Neither saw the end of a rifle barrel slide through, aimed at the
driveway.
"At least think about it." William kissed her
forehead and climbed into the car. In the darkness of the storm, his mother
looked like an abandoned child.
"Call when you get home."
"I will. Mom, if you need me…" The rest of the
sentence was implied but he knew that she would never call.
Darkness closed in quickly, bringing more rain as Martha
stumbled back inside. Flicking the light switch flooded the kitchen with
brilliance and the unexpected sight of Bill sitting at the table startled her.
She muffled her scream with the back of her hand. A mocking smile curled his
lips.
"You scared me," Martha said, embarrassed at her
own skittishness.
"Can’t a man come to his own kitchen to tell his son
goodbye?" Bill gave her an innocent look and then sipped his hot coffee.
"You’re too late. He’s gone." She said, eying him
suspiciously. He seemed to have recovered completely. Had he forgotten, blacked
out, not even realized what had happened?
"Too bad."
Martha busied herself with the dishes. After a few minutes
she asked, "Should you be up?" There were several other things she
wanted to say to him but they would have to wait until she was sure he was
responsible for his actions…and she was more in control of her own emotions.
"I feel fine now," Bill said absently and then
added. "It must have been all the excitement of having company for dinner."
Silence for a moment and then Bill moved closer to her. "I’ll
take that knife now."
So he hadn’t forgotten. Carefully, Martha pulled the thin
bladed knife out of the soapy water, rinsed and dried it. She handed it to him
without a word.
Snapping it into its case on his belt, Bill laughed softly. "You
have to be careful with things like this. Someone could get hurt."
The saucer Martha was washing slipped out of her hand,
struck the side of the sink and broke into several sharp, jagged pieces.
"I sure hope we don’t have to stop having visitors,"
Bill continued in that strange, soft voice. Martha gingerly picked out a long
piece of broken saucer and transferred it quietly to her apron pocket.
CHAPTER 7
Paul got out of his car and stretched lazily. The Landry
house, with its slash of red brick chimney up the side, warmed his heart and he
ambled toward it thinking, not for the first time, that it would make a pretty
painting, peaceful and secluded. He crossed the wooden foot bridge to the yard
and bent to sniff Martha’s fragrant roses.
"You look fit as a fiddle this morning," Bill said
as he wheeled onto the porch.
"I feel fit as a fiddle," Paul said lightly,
straightening, and then broke into a smile when he noticed Bill’s beard, tinged
with gray. "I like it," he said rubbing casually at his own furry
chin.
The old man’s hand went to his own chin and he was surprised
when his fingers touched a short beard. It suddenly dawned on him that he
hadn’t shaved since Father’s Day, but he carefully hid his reaction. "It’s
a little uncomfortable but I’ll get used to it. I get damn tired of shaving
every day."
Paul sat down on the end of the porch near Bill’s feet. "Just
be careful when you trim. One slip and it’s all over."
Bill nodded.
"You know, my offer to build that ramp to the porch for
you still holds," Paul said.
Bill waved the words aside. "I don’t need it. I’m not
going
at that moment that she was choosing between her husband and her son. About a
hundred years ago in a hospital room she made a promise. She told Bill she
would always be there. She meant it.
Too soon for Martha, they were standing in the driveway
beside William’s car. "Is he asleep?" William asked and wondered if
his father could have faked the whole fainting episode.
Martha nodded.
"At least get someone out here to help you,"
William pleaded.
"We’ll see." Martha’s stand-by answer for "No."
Neither mother nor son heard the bedroom window slide open
six inches. Neither saw the end of a rifle barrel slide through, aimed at the
driveway.
"At least think about it." William kissed her
forehead and climbed into the car. In the darkness of the storm, his mother
looked like an abandoned child.
"Call when you get home."
"I will. Mom, if you need me…" The rest of the
sentence was implied but he knew that she would never call.
Darkness closed in quickly, bringing more rain as Martha
stumbled back inside. Flicking the light switch flooded the kitchen with
brilliance and the unexpected sight of Bill sitting at the table startled her.
She muffled her scream with the back of her hand. A mocking smile curled his
lips.
"You scared me," Martha said, embarrassed at her
own skittishness.
"Can’t a man come to his own kitchen to tell his son
goodbye?" Bill gave her an innocent look and then sipped his hot coffee.
"You’re too late. He’s gone." She said, eying him
suspiciously. He seemed to have recovered completely. Had he forgotten, blacked
out, not even realized what had happened?
"Too bad."
Martha busied herself with the dishes. After a few minutes
she asked, "Should you be up?" There were several other things she
wanted to say to him but they would have to wait until she was sure he was
responsible for his actions…and she was more in control of her own emotions.
"I feel fine now," Bill said absently and then
added. "It must have been all the excitement of having company for dinner."
Silence for a moment and then Bill moved closer to her. "I’ll
take that knife now."
So he hadn’t forgotten. Carefully, Martha pulled the thin
bladed knife out of the soapy water, rinsed and dried it. She handed it to him
without a word.
Snapping it into its case on his belt, Bill laughed softly. "You
have to be careful with things like this. Someone could get hurt."
The saucer Martha was washing slipped out of her hand,
struck the side of the sink and broke into several sharp, jagged pieces.
"I sure hope we don’t have to stop having visitors,"
Bill continued in that strange, soft voice. Martha gingerly picked out a long
piece of broken saucer and transferred it quietly to her apron pocket.
CHAPTER 7
Paul got out of his car and stretched lazily. The Landry
house, with its slash of red brick chimney up the side, warmed his heart and he
ambled toward it thinking, not for the first time, that it would make a pretty
painting, peaceful and secluded. He crossed the wooden foot bridge to the yard
and bent to sniff Martha’s fragrant roses.
"You look fit as a fiddle this morning," Bill said
as he wheeled onto the porch.
"I feel fit as a fiddle," Paul said lightly,
straightening, and then broke into a smile when he noticed Bill’s beard, tinged
with gray. "I like it," he said rubbing casually at his own furry
chin.
The old man’s hand went to his own chin and he was surprised
when his fingers touched a short beard. It suddenly dawned on him that he
hadn’t shaved since Father’s Day, but he carefully hid his reaction. "It’s
a little uncomfortable but I’ll get used to it. I get damn tired of shaving
every day."
Paul sat down on the end of the porch near Bill’s feet. "Just
be careful when you trim. One slip and it’s all over."
Bill nodded.
"You know, my offer to build that ramp to the porch for
you still holds," Paul said.
Bill waved the words aside. "I don’t need it. I’m not
going
Similar Books
