A Field Guide to Deception Read Online Free PDF

Would the nagging—and this sense of claustrophobia—vanish with the paneling? Claire waited, listening, and still nothing came to her.
    In the dark, she climbed the stairs, walked through the cold stone rooms, and stood on the deck. She could hear the river and the rustle of leaves. As she debated whether or not to give sleep up, and work for a while, headlights cut through the night. Liv’s truck crawled down the gravel road to her camper. For a moment, Claire considered calling out, but remembered she only had on boxers, so withdrew, instead, to the house. Her curiosity about Liv deepened with every step.
    Just before dawn, she dreamed the money. The room with the broken cupboard, her aunt seated in a rocking chair, knitting something irregular in degrees of brown.
    â€œYou’ve come back,” Denise said.
    â€œBack?” Claire asked.
    Her aunt pointed to the bag Claire found in her hands. “Have you come to take the last of it?”
    â€œYes,” Claire said.
    â€œThen hurry.” Her aunt looked at her opened palm as though the time were written there. “It’s late.”
    Claire woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Simon, wearing a helmet, bounded into the bedroom, yelled, “Eat!”, and bounded back out. Cotton-brained, Claire squirmed into her robe, and wandered down the hall to join the fray. Piled in the sink and on the counters were pans and cookie sheets, mixing bowls and Simon’s trains, utensils of every description, several pairs of socks, and a couple of glasses of milk.
    â€œSimon and I cooked breakfast. Do you like monkey bread?”
    Claire, uncertain whether or not this was imaginary bread, answered, “Yes.”
    â€œAnd we have eggs and bacon and coffee.”

    Simon sat at the table, his short legs metronome kicking, his helmet pushed back from his forehead as he ate chunks of cinnamon-glazed bread. Liv handed Claire a large plate, piled with food, including a tiny citadel of monkey bread. Simon had finished his and was scooping more from the funnel-cake pan on the table.
    â€œThis is a superb surprise,” Claire said, several bites in. She would not think about the dishes.
    â€œDon’t worry about the kitchen,” Liv said as she joined her. “I’ll load the dishwasher before we go.”
    â€œGo?”
    Liv pointed at Simon’s helmet.
    â€œRock climbing?” Claire hazarded.
    â€œWe’re riding bikes on the Centennial Trail today.”
    â€œAh. Of course.”
    â€œIf we bike through the Valley, I know a cool little spot where we can swim.”

    In the cold, sandy-bottomed pool down from the trail, Simon dunked his whole head in the water and swam about his mother and Liv.
    â€œYou’re like a river rat, Simon,” Liv told him.
    He dunked himself again and floated past them on his belly.
    â€œHow’s Simon’s trailer?” Liv asked Claire.
    â€œHeavy.”
    â€œDo you want me to have a go on the ride back?”
    â€œAre you worried I’m too old and infirm to pull it both ways?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œShall we race?”
    â€œOh, Claire. You can’t be serious.”
    â€œLoser buys dinner.”
    â€œYou are so on.”
    Claire’s legs burned along the muscles, her wrists hurt, and her neck and her ass. Still she pedaled; Simon behind her, cawing. As the wind teased through her short black hair, clouds of bugs spattered
her face and sunglasses. She rode like terror itself kept pace with her. She’d lost track of Liv and the time and everything but her heart and her legs. Along her back and shoulders, her muscles pushed against her skin.
    So she was alone. Alone with a three-year-old. Unplanned, yes, but she’d be fine. She’d always been fine: a girl who landed on her feet. Her aunt had employed her, but she hadn’t saved her. Claire didn’t need anyone to save her. She leaned forward and pedaled harder, her breath roaring