A Real Basket Case Read Online Free PDF Page B

relax. I will do all the work, and you will feel wonderful. You do feel wonderful,” Enrique said with a laugh.
    All Claire could muster was a murmured assent.
    Enrique worked on her neck, back, and shoulders, then massaged her arms and legs, freeing cramped muscles and releasing the accompanying pain and tension.
    Claire had never felt so relaxed—like warm gelatin. When Enrique refastened her bra and asked her to roll over, she mumbled, “I don’t think I can.”
    He eased his hands under her and helped her roll onto her back. His hands lingered on her waist a moment too long before he drew them away to pour more of the fragrant oil into them. Then he began massaging her thighs.
    A warm tingle spread over Claire’s body. She closed her eyes.
    Enrique’s hands froze. “You—”
    BLAM!
    Claire’s whole body jerked. Her eyes snapped open. She sought the source of the loud noise reverberating through the room.
    Past the other side of the bed, a flash of metal glinted in the doorway. Then it disappeared.
    Footsteps thudded down the stairs.
    With a groan, Enrique fell face-forward across her hips.
    Hot, sticky fluid seeped onto her belly. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared down the length of her body with dawning comprehension—and horror.
    A red pool oozed over her, the towels, and the bed. A ragged, bloody hole gaped in Enrique’s back and shirt where the bullet had exited.
    Overwhelmed with whirling, frantic fear and revulsion, Claire screamed. And screamed again.
    A raw, animal instinct for survival seized her. Scrambling, she pushed herself out from under Enrique’s dead weight. She leapt off the bed and swiped at blood dripping down her legs. Feeling dizzy, she grasped the headboard to steady herself.
    Will the shooter come after me next? She crouched beside the bed and listened.
    Nothing.
    Only the sound of her heart pounding against her ribcage, with the accompanying rush of blood in her ears. Think, Claire. Now what? She forced herself to feel Enrique’s neck for a pulse. Her trembling fingers found none.
    She picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1, smearing blood on the receiver. When the operator answered, Claire shouted, “A man’s been shot! Send an ambulance!”
    “Please calm down, ma’am. I need to confirm your address.”
    Claire realized she was panting, almost hyperventilating. She took a deep, slow breath and listened to the operator recite her address. “Yes, that’s it.”
    “You said a man’s been shot,” the operator said. “Are you in danger?”
    “I don’t know. Someone was here, but I don’t see anyone now. He or they might still be in the house.”
    “The police and ambulance are on their way. Do you hear any noises in the house?”
    “No.”
    “Which room are you in?”
    “The upstairs master bedroom, to the left of the stairs.”
    “It’s probably best for you to stay where you are. What’s the status of the victim?”
    Claire looked at Enrique’s body, slumped over the bed, leaking blood all over the linens. He was so young, with so many years left to live. Why would someone shoot him? She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears ran down her cheeks.
    “I think he’s dead. He was shot in the chest.” She swiped at her runny nose.
    “Does he have a pulse?”
    “I didn’t feel—”
    “Claire?” Roger’s voice sounded from downstairs.
    Without thinking, Claire yelled, “Oh, God.”
    What was Roger doing home?
    She glanced down at her nearly naked body smeared with blood. She dropped the phone, grabbed her robe, and threw it on.
    Roger stumbled into the room, holding a handgun. He gaped at Enrique’s body.
    Claire stared at her husband. As far as she knew, he’d never fired a gun before in his life.
    Did he kill Enrique?
    The emergency operator’s voice floated out of the telephone receiver at Claire’s feet. “Hello? What’s going on?”
    Roger looked at the telephone, then at her. Taking in her blood-smeared, semi-clothed state, his eyes burned with