Deadly Intentions Read Online Free PDF Page A

middle of the yard—if you could even call it a yard. It was more like a dump with piles of junk here and there and not a blade of grass in sight. The main house was a small white cottage. Its screen door hung half open, squeaking loudly as the breeze moved it back and forth.
    To the left of the main house was a chicken coop, the chickens long gone. To the left of the coop, a barn leaned dangerously, the roof sporting bare patches where shingles, now resting in the yard, had blown off.
    Her shoes crunched over the glass from a broken bottle as she approached the house. The sounds of a television game show blared from an open window next to the door where a soiled curtain fluttered in the breeze.
    Jolene knocked on the door and waited a few seconds, then knocked louder.
    “Yeah, I’m comin’,” She heard Earl yell just before he ripped the door open.
    Jolene took a step backward and looked up at the red-faced man in front of her. Despite his skinny arms and legs, his stomach strained at the dirty white t-shirt he wore. His gray hair stuck up from the top of his head in an unruly mess.  
    He squinted down at her. “Wadda ya want?”
    “Hi, Earl, It’s me, Jolene Blackmoore.”  
    He leaned closer and the smell of stale beer and cigarettes hit her like a tidal wave, causing her to take a step back.
    His eyes widened. “Oh, so it is. Didn’t recognize ya’ … It’s been a few years and you done growed up.”  
    His eyes drifted down to Jolene’s chest and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giving him a piece of her mind.
    “What brings ya’ here?” He looked back up at her eyes.
    Jolene peered up at him from under her lashes. She figured playing the helpless, cute female would get more answers out of him than being tough and demanding.  
    She softened her voice. “Well, I know you set your lobster pots just outside the point near my house...”
    “Yeah…” Earl’s eyes narrowed.
    “I was wondering … well,” Jolene looked down at her feet, trying to appear vulnerable and appeal to his sense of wanting to help. “I wondered if you saw anything the day my mother died.”
    She looked up at him, plastering a look of wide-eyed innocence on her face. She didn’t want to give on that she was actually investigating and had seen the police report. She’d get more answers from him if she pretended she was just a girl interested in finding out about her momma’s death.
    “What do you mean?” His white eyebrows mashed together.  
    Jolene’s eyes drifted over his shoulder into the house. The big screen TV—one of the older, bulky models—and leather theater seating seemed at odds in the tiny, old-fashioned living room.
    “Well, they say she jumped, but I have a hard time believing that. I mean, I knew my mother. She was happy.”
    “I don’t know anything that can help you.” Earl turned away and started to shut the door.
    “Wait!” Her plea caused him to turn back toward her. “But you did see her that day, right?”
    Jolene focused on his aura. Normally she filtered the aura energy out—it was too distracting for normal interaction, but now she wanted to get a bead on Earl’s state of mind. As she suspected, his aura was white with bands of red, gray and brown. Earl was ill—probably with alcoholism or maybe even something more serious. His aura also showed he was oriented toward materialistic things, and, more importantly, the brown and gray showed that he had unsettling thoughts and possibly bad intentions.
    Earl’s hands fidgeted on the door, his eyes darted left and right. He didn’t look Jolene in the eye as he said, “I saw her, and like I told the police, she was alone on the cliff.”
    Then he slammed the door shut in her face.
    Jolene stood facing the door for a few seconds. Earl hadn’t told her much, but the way he acted and his aura had told her plenty.  
    Earl Whiting had something to hide.
    As she turned to go back to her car, she noticed the barn and its