Read Online If She Should Die by Carlene Thompson - Free Book Online

controlled her weeping, and Jeremy had retreated into silence. He took Rhiannon downstairs with him, though. Christine knew he would find comfort in Dara’s little black cat, who always curled beside him to sleep.
    As she changed into a nightgown and washed her face, Christine was certain the sleep she wanted so badly wouldn’t come for hours. She was too disturbed and shaken. But after she forced herself to read a few pages of a less than gripping murder mystery, the book toppled from her hand and she slid sideways against her stacked pillows.
    She was dreaming of arguing with Dara over Sloane Caldwell. The dream was a playback of the last contretemps she’d ever had with Dara, when the girl had openly flirted with Sloane and even sat down on his lap during a party, stroking his face, rubbing her breasts against him, and licking his ear. Christine had been furious at the display, letting her temper get the best of her as she called Dara a tramp. Dara had laughed at her. “It’s not my fault you can’t hold on to Sloane,” she’d jeered. “He’d rather have me and you know it!” Sloane had looked acutely embarrassed but said nothing.
    Christine had slammed out of the party, refusing Sloane’s attempts to take her home, asking a friend to drive her instead. The next day she’d broken off her engagement to Sloane. Less than a week later Dara had disappeared.
    The phone rang and Christine awakened abruptly, Dara’s sneering face dancing vividly in front of her own. She jerked up in bed and grabbed the phone on her bedside table. “Yes? What is it?”
    “Did I wake you?”
    “No.” Christine always said no whether or not she’d been asleep, as if she felt guilty for not being alert at all times. “Who is this?”
    “You
were
asleep or you’d know my voice. It’s Streak.” Streak Archer? Wilma’s son? And what time was it? Christine peered at the bedside clock. Twelve forty-five. “Chris, I’m with Jeremy,” he said urgently.
    “Jeremy is downstairs in his room.”
    “No, he isn’t. Now wake up and pay attention. He’s down at the bridge at Crescent Creek with the cat. I found him when I was jogging.”
    “At the creek? What’s he doing?”
    “Don’t ask questions. Just come. Your brother is more upset than I’ve ever seen him. He needs you
now
.”

CHAPTER 4
1
    Christine bolted from bed, pulled on jeans, a sweatshirt, and a jacket, and rushed to her car. The constant rain of the last four days had stopped, but she didn’t notice. The streets were nearly deserted, mist creating halos around streetlights. The Prince home was only a half-mile from her own. She passed its large brick facade and saw two lights burning, one in Ames’s study and another in Patricia’s bedroom. Patricia had probably retreated to her room to let Ames suffer alone. Or maybe he’d sent her away. Ames couldn’t bear for people to see him as anything but strong and controlled.
    Christine turned down Crescent Creek Road, a narrow asphalt lane that ran beside Ames’s property. Only three small homes sat along the lane before the asphalt stopped and the gravel began. Her light car, a blue Dodge Neon, bounced over the road damaged by the heavy rain of the last week and a hard winter. Some trees appeared on either side of the road, mostly small locusts. She rounded the final curve leading down to the creek. Here the trees and undergrowth were denser, everything gleamingmoistly in her headlights. She stopped the car, put on her emergency brake, and stepped out onto a slick patch of mud and gravel. Immediately she spotted leaning against a tree the ten-speed bike Jeremy kept at her house.
    “Christine.” She looked up to see Streak Archer in a running suit. At fifty-three he looked at least ten years older, with thick, silver hair and deep lines running across his forehead and down his cheeks. A scar bisected his right eyebrow. His real name was Robert, but people had called him Streak since he’d been the fastest thing