Buried Secrets Read Online Free PDF

in the Chestnut Hill Mall, for Christ’s sake!”

    “You haven’t introduced me to Mr. Heller,” Belinda said. She approached, offered me her hand. It was bony and cool. Her fingernails were painted coral too. She had the vacant beauty of your classic trophy-wife bimbo, and she spoke with a sugary Georgia accent, all mint juleps and sweet iced tea.

    I stood up. “Nick,” I said. All I knew about her was what I’d heard from my mother.
    Belinda Jackson Marcus had been a flight attendant with Delta and met Marcus in the bar at the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead, in Atlanta.

    “Pardon my manners,” Marcus said but remained slouched in his chair. “Nick, Belinda.
    Belinda, Nick,” he added perfunctorily. “Is she not a gorgeous creature, this girl?” A wide, pleased smile: he’d gotten his teeth capped too. That and the new hair: Marcus had never been vain, so I assumed he’d done all this work out of insecurity at having a wife so much younger and so beautiful. Or maybe she’d been pushing him to renovate.

    Belinda tipped her head and rolled her eyes, a coy, fawnlike gesture. “Have you offered Mr. Heller some lunch?”

    “I’m fine,” I said.

    “Now, what’s wrong with you, sugar?” Belinda said.

    “What kind of lousy host am I?” he said. “See? What would I do without Belinda? I’m an animal. An uncivilized beast. How about a sandwich, Nickeleh?”

    “I’m good,” I said.

    “Nothing?”

    “I’m fine.”

    Belinda said, “How about I fix y’all some coffee?”

    “Sure.”

    She glided over to the long black soapstone-topped island and clicked on an electric kettle. Her tight white pants emphasized the curves of her tight butt. She clearly spent most of her time working out, probably with a trainer, with a special focus on the glutes. “I’m not really much for making coffee,” she said, “but we have instant. It’s quite good, actually.” She held up a little foil packet.

    “You know, I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “I’ve had too much coffee this morning already.”

    Belinda turned around suddenly. “Nick,” she said. “You have to find her.” She approached slowly. “Please. You have to find her.”

    She was freshly made up, I noticed. She didn’t look like she’d been up all night. Unlike her husband, she looked refreshed, as if she’d just awakened from a long restorative nap. She wore pink lip gloss, her lips perfectly lined. I knew enough about women and their makeup to know that you didn’t roll out of bed looking like that.

    “Did Alexa tell you who she was meeting?” I asked.

    “I didn’t … she doesn’t exactly tell me everything. Me being the stepmother and all.”

    “She loves you,” Marcus said. “She just doesn’t realize it yet.”

    “But you asked her, right?” I said.

    Belinda’s glossy lips parted half an inch. “Of course I asked!” she said, indignant.

    “She didn’t tell you what time she’d be back?”

    “Well, I assumed by midnight, maybe a little later, but you know, she doesn’t take it too well when I ask her that sort of thing. She says she doesn’t like to be treated like a child.”

    “Still, that’s pretty late.”

    “For these kids? That’s when the night begins.”

    “That’s not what I mean,” I said. “I thought kids under eighteen aren’t allowed to drive after midnight—twelve thirty, maybe—unless a parent or a guardian is in the car with them. If they get caught, they can have their license suspended for sixty days.”

    “Is that right?” Belinda said. “She didn’t tell me anything of the kind.” I found that strange. Alexa would never have planned to do something that might jeopardize her driver’s license, and all the autonomy it represented. Also, it seemed out of character for Belinda not to have stayed on top of all the rules. Not a woman like that, attentive to every detail, who lined her lips before meeting me at a time when she should have been a mental wreck over her