Read Online Lover's Lane by Jill Marie Landis - Free Book Online
Authors: Jill Marie Landis
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pills and fumbled with the tamper-proof lid, tipping the vial until the tablets lay nestled in her palm. The ticking of the crystal clock sitting on the marble counter was amplified by shadows. Anna stared at the medication thinking how nice it would be to go to sleep and never again have to awaken to the knowledge that she had outlived her only child.
She tried to bring the words on the container into focus and remembered that she intended to call Jackson Montgomery in the morning. She had a plan. She had a reason to wake up.
She rolled the pills back into the bottle and set the container down on the counter.
Her bed felt wonderful, if not vast and empty. Lying there in the darkness she prayed, “God, bless Charles and Rick.”
She tried to picture Christopher’s sweet face as it might look now, but instead she saw Rick as a child. She longed to kiss her grandson, to tuck him in, to hold him tight.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, “bless and keep Christopher safe. Help me bring him home.”
She didn’t think it was too much to ask after everything she’d been through.
7
GLENN POTTER DROVE HIS OVERSIZED SUV LIKE HE HAD A death wish.
Jake was thankful that he’d belted himself in when they pulled away from the last rental house Glenn had shown him.
“This next place just came on the market. I haven’t even seen it myself.” Without taking his eyes off the road, Glenn reached into the backseat of his Land Cruiser, rifled through an open briefcase and finally pulled out a manila folder. The car swerved to the left and started to cross the center line.
They were speeding away from a view home in town. Everything Glenn had shown him had been too large, too pricey, too modern for Jake’s taste, even if he did have any intention of renting something for the summer.
So far he had wasted an hour and a half with Potter. They’d talked baseball and investments, but Jake hadn’t yet broached the subject of Carly Nolan.
Glenn stuffed the folder in the space between his seat and the center console. As the realtor continued to chat amiably, Jake wondered why in the hell Glenn had put their lives in jeopardy to grab the folder if he wasn’t even going to look at it.
“This next place is an old house with quite a history. Seems it was built in the twenties by a silent film star. Craftsman style. Wood frame construction with river rock and shiplap siding. Owned by the same family since it was built.” He jerked the wheel to the left to avoid a pothole and put the car in four-wheel drive and passed a sign marked Lover’s Lane as they started up a winding, narrow gravel road. They crossed the rolling hillside above the scenic overlook Jake had stopped at yesterday.
“It’s been years since any of the family has even come to California. They live back in Massachusetts or New Hampshire or one of those cold New England states. The matriarch recently passed on, and the estate is being settled, which they claim will take months. The family is interested in leasing the house with an option to buy, but they can’t give any firm time frame yet.”
“Sounds interesting.” Jake gripped the armrest and concentrated on the view from Lover’s Lane as the car wound its way up the hillside. The panorama of the coastline and the cove below went from stunning to spectacular as they climbed higher. Billowing white sails of boats skimming the water contrasted with the deep green ocean. Nothing other than jet contrails marred the azure sky.
They dipped into an arroyo, took the right fork in the road and passed a derelict wooden no trespassing sign.
A horseshoe-shaped, gravel drive curved back on itself in front of the house. Glenn Potter slid to a stop, exciting a cloud of dust. He set the brake. When the dust finally settled, he took one look at the house and shook his head.
“Wow. I’ve really wasted your time on this one.” He pulled the file out of the crack beside his leather upholstered bucket seat, flipped it open,
She tried to bring the words on the container into focus and remembered that she intended to call Jackson Montgomery in the morning. She had a plan. She had a reason to wake up.
She rolled the pills back into the bottle and set the container down on the counter.
Her bed felt wonderful, if not vast and empty. Lying there in the darkness she prayed, “God, bless Charles and Rick.”
She tried to picture Christopher’s sweet face as it might look now, but instead she saw Rick as a child. She longed to kiss her grandson, to tuck him in, to hold him tight.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, “bless and keep Christopher safe. Help me bring him home.”
She didn’t think it was too much to ask after everything she’d been through.
7
GLENN POTTER DROVE HIS OVERSIZED SUV LIKE HE HAD A death wish.
Jake was thankful that he’d belted himself in when they pulled away from the last rental house Glenn had shown him.
“This next place just came on the market. I haven’t even seen it myself.” Without taking his eyes off the road, Glenn reached into the backseat of his Land Cruiser, rifled through an open briefcase and finally pulled out a manila folder. The car swerved to the left and started to cross the center line.
They were speeding away from a view home in town. Everything Glenn had shown him had been too large, too pricey, too modern for Jake’s taste, even if he did have any intention of renting something for the summer.
So far he had wasted an hour and a half with Potter. They’d talked baseball and investments, but Jake hadn’t yet broached the subject of Carly Nolan.
Glenn stuffed the folder in the space between his seat and the center console. As the realtor continued to chat amiably, Jake wondered why in the hell Glenn had put their lives in jeopardy to grab the folder if he wasn’t even going to look at it.
“This next place is an old house with quite a history. Seems it was built in the twenties by a silent film star. Craftsman style. Wood frame construction with river rock and shiplap siding. Owned by the same family since it was built.” He jerked the wheel to the left to avoid a pothole and put the car in four-wheel drive and passed a sign marked Lover’s Lane as they started up a winding, narrow gravel road. They crossed the rolling hillside above the scenic overlook Jake had stopped at yesterday.
“It’s been years since any of the family has even come to California. They live back in Massachusetts or New Hampshire or one of those cold New England states. The matriarch recently passed on, and the estate is being settled, which they claim will take months. The family is interested in leasing the house with an option to buy, but they can’t give any firm time frame yet.”
“Sounds interesting.” Jake gripped the armrest and concentrated on the view from Lover’s Lane as the car wound its way up the hillside. The panorama of the coastline and the cove below went from stunning to spectacular as they climbed higher. Billowing white sails of boats skimming the water contrasted with the deep green ocean. Nothing other than jet contrails marred the azure sky.
They dipped into an arroyo, took the right fork in the road and passed a derelict wooden no trespassing sign.
A horseshoe-shaped, gravel drive curved back on itself in front of the house. Glenn Potter slid to a stop, exciting a cloud of dust. He set the brake. When the dust finally settled, he took one look at the house and shook his head.
“Wow. I’ve really wasted your time on this one.” He pulled the file out of the crack beside his leather upholstered bucket seat, flipped it open,
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