Deceit Read Online Free PDF

Mom. Come back!” She buries her face in both hands and sobs. And the next thing she knows, her mother’s blood has flowed across the floor, up her legs to her arms. She pulls her hands away and stares at them, at the red ooze in the lines of her palms.
    Melissa’s jaw unhinges. She tilts her head toward the ceiling and screams —
    A grating whir in her throat jerked Melissa awake. Her eyes popped open, sleepy gaze fixing upon a pale blue wall. She lay on her side, right hand scrunching the flowered coverlet on her queen-size bed. Morning sun filtered between drawn curtains at one of the large windows in her bedroom.
    The Jacksons’ house.
    Warm relief flushed limpness through Melissa’s body. The air smelled faintly of the vanilla-scented candle she’d lit on her dresser the previous night.
    Her fourth day in paradise. Sort of. If she’d let it be. Everything still seemed amazing—the house, the way Linda and Baxter treated her. It’s just that Melissa wasn’t used to things being so right. When you’d lived your whole life with a drunk for a mother, who’d just as easily slap you as look at you, it was hard to relax. Melissa’s muscles still quivered at sudden sounds—the phone ringing, a pot banging.
    She rolled on her back and stared at the high, perfectly painted ceiling. The dream flashed in her head. Melissa closed her eyes. Wasn’t the first time she’d had it—in some form. Details tended to change. Weird how dreams of a real event could mix truth and fiction. Like blood flowing from the floor up to her palms.
    Five months ago when she’d called 911, back turned against the sight of her dead mother, she’d had no blood on her hands. But there was a lot of it on the floor.
    Later, after the autopsy, the detective said her mother had been drunk. Yeah , Melissa thought, tell me something I don’t know . Her mom probably blacked out, stumbled and fell, he said. She hit her head on the counter, split her forehead open. She was only thirty-eight years old, but her liver was “damaged beyond repair” by cirrhosis. That by itself would have killed her soon anyway.
    One of life’s little ironies.
    A knock sounded on Melissa’s door. She jumped, then rose up on her elbows. “Yeah?”
    “It’s Linda. Can I come in?”
    Melissa had never heard that question in the trailer. Her mother had always just barreled into her tiny bedroom. “Sure.”
    The door opened and Linda stuck her head inside. She wore no makeup yet, but she was still pretty. “Time to get up for church. We leave in an hour.”
    Church. Melissa blinked at her. Was it Sunday already? “Oh.”
    Melissa hated church. Not that she’d ever been, but she’d heard about it plenty. Full of hypocritical people. They’d probably all look down their noses at her.
    Linda smiled. “Don’t look so forlorn. It won’t be bad. Really. And it’ll give you a chance to meet some girls your age.”
    Who probably wouldn’t want a thing to do with her.
    Melissa’s mouth tightened. “What am I supposed to wear?”
    “Any of the jeans and tops I bought you. The service is casual. You want some breakfast?”
    “No. Thanks. I’ll eat later.”
    Linda nodded, smiled again, and closed the door. She sure did smile a lot.
    For some time Melissa lay in bed, arguing with herself. She didn’t have to go to church. Nobody could make her. She’d never liked being told what to do.
    Yeah, and she could also get kicked out of this nice house in a hurry. That didn’t fit into Melissa’s plans. She’d already grown used to her large, beautiful bedroom.
    She huffed at the ceiling. Life was full of compromises. An hour of church, even with stuck-up people, was worth a week of living here.
    Melissa got out of bed.
    She threw open the door to her walk-in closet and studied the five pairs of designer jeans and two dressier slacks hanging neatly in a row. Maybe she should wear the white slacks. But if all the girls were dressed in jeans she’d feel weird.
    What