Read Online Long Gone Man by Phyllis Smallman - Free Book Online Page A

know who your parents were?”
    Lauren shook her head. “About all I know about them is I’m not the child of an ax murder.”
    â€œAlways good to know.”
    â€œI once asked my adoptive mother if I was. Mom was horrified.” Lauren smiled. “My parentage was such a forbidden topic I thought there had to be something terrible to tell.”
    â€œWell, there are a few blanks in my memory, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure you aren’t my child.”
    Lauren fingered a gold medallion that lay on her chest. “It’s just that I’m tired and maybe a little crazy.”
    â€œIt’s been that kind of night.” Singer reached into the bathroom and turned on the light.
    â€œHow old are you anyway?” Lauren asked.
    â€œOld enough to be your mother.” Singer started to close the door.
    Lauren flushed. “I was just wondering.”
    â€œFortyish,” Singer said, rocking her hand back and forth.
    â€œYeah? You look sixtyish until you take off your clothes. You’re a lot skinnier than I thought.”
    Singer shut the bathroom door. She looked in the mirror over the sink. She seldom looked at herself. It had stopped mattering. She turned her head right and then left. Little remained of the woman she’d been. But still, while the glitter and shine had gone, she couldn’t get away from her bones. The old Singer still peaked out, enough for the remaining members of the band to identify her and know she was a danger.
    Johnny was dead, and one of the people on the mountain had killed him. Did it have to do with that long ago crime, or were there new sins to consider? And if Johnny hadn’t acted alone back then, she still had enemies. Someone might be frightened by her arrival on Glenphiddie.
    She’d have to careful. When you detonated a bomb in people’s lives the flying debris could kill you. And that was exactly what she intended to do now. “Lord help you if they hate you as much as you hated Johnny Vibes,” she told the face in the mirror. But of course, that’s what came from destroying someone’s life—hatred became a passion as strong as love.

Seventeen
    Dawn came before the search of the house was complete. Duncan stood at the glass doors by the eating area in the kitchen and watched the rising sun bounce colors off a bank of low cumulus clouds, pinks and oranges bleeding into magentas. “The world is being born again and we’re the only ones to see it.”
    Wilmot raised his head briefly from the notes he was reading. “What exactly is the count?”
    â€œFourteen weapons—handguns, rifles, and shotguns—were found in the house. Only two of the rifles and a shotgun were registered to John Vibald.”
    â€œJesus!” The number was a shock. “This is supposed to be the most peaceful place on Earth. When I go on duty each day, facing someone with a gun is the last thing I worry about.”
    She joined him at the table. “Eagon and I were talking about it. Neither of us can remember the last violent crime on the island involving a weapon.” Her gaze returned to the sunrise. “And even with the count at fourteen, we’re not sure if we’ve found all the firearms in John Vibald’s possession. So far none of them appear to be the murder weapon.” She sighed and turned from the window. “I’ll start again.”
    And so instead of going off duty Duncan climbed the stairs to the top of the house and began the search all over again.
    It was just after nine in the morning when Singer walked into the kitchen. The smell of nutmeg and cinnamon hung in the air.
    â€œThe weather’s cleared. You’ll be able to get off the island,” Lauren said.
    â€œDo you think the Mounties will let me go?”
    â€œMaybe not.”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’ll take Beastie downtown and find a place to park.”
    â€œI wasn’t asking you to