As Good as Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

face screwed up in a pondering frown. "Is that what folks call adoption?"
    "Yes, that's right."
    "Miss Jazzy ain't adopted," Wallace said. "But I heard somebody say that Miss Reve's mama and papa adopted her when she was a baby."
    Not wanting to continue the conversation about babies-twins in particular-Veda rose from her chair. "I'm suddenly not very hungry. I-I think I'll take my coffee"- she lifted the cup and saucer -"into the parlor and catch the morning news on WMMK."
    "I'm sorry, Veda," Wallace said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I just remembered that talking about babies makes you sad."
    "It's all right, dear. I-I'm perfectly fine. I'll see you after a while. We'll work in the garden together later this morning."
    She escaped from her brother-in-law's scrutiny as quickly as she could. She hated the way he often stared at her with such pity in his eyes. The poor old fool had such a kind heart. Wallace wasn't very bright, but he wasn't totally stupid either. Since he'd always lived with them, he'd been around when she had suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, trying again and again to have another child, not wanting Brian to be raised without at least one sibling. Perhaps if he'd had younger brothers and sisters, if she'd been able to fill this house with more joy and laughter, her son wouldn't be such an unhappy man now.
    And maybe her husband would still love her.
     
    The mention of the word twins shouldn't bother me the way it does. After all, just because Jazzy Talbot and Reve Sorrell might turn out to be long-lost twin sisters really has nothing to do with me, with what happened thirty years ago.
    Are you sure? Are you one hundred percent sure?
    No, I'm not sure. And that's the problem. I don't have any idea exactly how old Jazzy Talbot is, and I need to know. If she's older or younger than thirty, then I can breathe a sight of relief. However, if she's the right age, perhaps I should find out more about her and Reve Sorrell.
    Do you think they could be those twin girls?
    Of course not. Those twins are dead. They've been dead for thirty years.
    You didn 't see them dead, did you? You didn't actually kill them yourself.
    No, but-
    You trusted someone else to dispose of them. You should have done the job yourself.
    That way you could have been, certain.
    They 're dead. They have to be dead.
    And if they 're not? What if Jazzy and Reve Sorrell turn out to be those twins?
    Then I'll have no choice but to kill them. No one can ever find out the truth.

CHAPTER 3
    The DNA samples had been taken quickly and easily-just a swab in the mouth. Such a simple thing that would determine if she and Reve Sorrell were indeed sisters. If it turned out to be true-that they were twins-the fact would irrevocably change their lives. Everything she had believed since she was a child would prove to be lies. How could she deal with knowing her aunt Sally had been deliberately lying to her all her life? How was that possible? She knew, deep inside her, that Aunt Sally loved her with all her heart. The two of them shared a mother/daughter bond stronger than most.
    Don't get ahead of yourself. Wait for the results. And even if you two are twins, maybe Aunt Sally will have an explanation as to why she never told you about having a sister.
    But could there be a good reason for throwing away a baby, for tossing her into a Dumpster and leaving her for dead?
    The few times since she'd met Reve that she'd brought up the subject to Aunt Sally, her aunt had sworn to her that Corrine Talbot had given birth to only one child, one baby girl, and that baby was Jazzy.
    "I'm told we should have the results within a week," Gal MacNair said as he walked with them into the waiting room. He smiled warmly at Jazzy and then at Reve. "You’re paying, for a private lab to do the test will speed things up immeasurably."
    "What good is money if you can't use it?" Reve said, but she didn't smile.
    Jazzy had been raised dirt poor, watching Aunt Sally scratch