Read Online Dark Truth by Mariah Stewart - Free Book Online Page A

that something like this should make no difference in their relationship?
    Nina tried to put herself in Regan’s place. Would she feel any differently about Regan if Josh Landry had been a killer instead of a talented writer?
    Of course she would not. Why couldn’t she trust Regan to be as steadfast in her friendship?
    She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Regan coming toward her. Maybe she should just tell her, right now, and get it over with. All she had to do was open her mouth, and say . . .
    “Hey, Mitch is going to run some of the info you gave me through his computers and see what he comes up with.” Regan was all smiles. “Oh, damn, look there. The moorings on the boat are coming loose. Could you give me a hand with the ropes, Nina? Good thing you came down here. I’d have hated to jump in to go chasing it across the bay.”
    They struggled with the ropes for nearly twenty minutes. The water was choppy and rough and made it difficult for the two women to secure the boat. When they finally succeeded, Regan patted Nina on the back.
    “Thanks so much. I’d have been here all afternoon if I’d been by myself. I think we deserve a little something warming after that. I say brandy by the fire is called for. What do you say?”
    “I say that sounds perfect.” Nina nodded, and followed Regan back up the wooden walk.
    “Did I tell you that Mitch and I have gone in with two friends to start a winery?” Regan was saying.
    “No, I don’t think you did.”
    “A friend of mine from college owned a farm she was going to sell, and on it there was an old vineyard. Well, she started seeing a friend of Mitch’s— actually, she needed a private investigator to look into some old murders for her—I’ll tell you that story over dinner, if you’re interested. Anyway, the PI started reading up about growing grapes and making wine, and the next thing we knew, the four of us had thrown in together to start this vineyard. Lavender Hill Wines, we’re calling it. Though of course, there’s no wine yet . . .”
    Regan continued to chat all the way back to the house, much to Nina’s relief. There’d be time later, or tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, to tell her about the professor who’d been tried and convicted as the Stone River Rapist.

S even
    The smell of coffee brewing roused Nina shortly before seven the next morning. She rose up on one elbow in the double bed in Regan’s guest bedroom and looked out the window. A light rain was falling and a dense mist lay over the marsh. From far out on the bay, she could hear the faint
chug-chug
of an old boat motor and, closer by, the
swish
of restless reeds stirring in the wind. She stretched her arms over her head and threw back the blankets. Her hostess was obviously up and busy in the kitchen. She should join her. Ten minutes later, she did.
    “I was wondering if you were a late sleeper,” Regan said when Nina came into the kitchen. “Coffee’s on, there’s a cup on the counter for you. Sweeteners are in the cupboard right behind you— there’s an assortment there. Half-and-half is in the little pitcher next to the coffeepot. Help yourself.”
    “Thanks. It smells wonderful.” Nina smiled as she poured herself a cup.
    “I wasn’t sure if you were a big breakfast person, a no-breakfast person, or somewhere in between. So I made French toast and sausage, because that’s my favorite and I almost never bother to make it for myself. If you’d rather have eggs, I’d be happy to—”
    “No, no. French toast is perfect. I never bother to do this for myself, either. What a treat.” Nina sipped her delicious coffee and sniffed at the sausage cooking on the stove. “Thank you so much for going to so much trouble.”
    “It’s really no trouble. I just don’t bother to take the time to eat this well when I’m by myself. It just seems a waste of time to make one or two slices of toast, one or two pieces of sausage. It’s easier to grab a granola bar