Don't Cry Now Read Online Free PDF

you?” Diana asked.
    â€œNobody’s told me anything.” Rod spun around in Diana’s direction, obviously startled by her presence. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œI called her when I couldn’t reach you,” Bonnie explained.
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œMaybe you should sit down,” Diana advised.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œJoan is dead,” Bonnie said softly.
    â€œWhat?” Rod grabbed for the back of a chair for support.
    â€œShe was murdered.”
    Rod’s normally pale complexion turned paler still. “Murdered! That’s impossible. How…who…?”
    â€œIt looked like she’d been shot. They don’t know who did it.”
    Rod took a moment to digest her words. “What do you mean, it looked like she’d been shot? How would you know what it looked like?”
    â€œI was there,” Bonnie answered. “I found her.”
    â€œWhat do you mean you found her?” The confusion in Rod’s voice carried out into the hall, attracting the attention of the former Marlene Brenzel, who stopped mid-autograph, her body swaying toward them.
    â€œI don’t want her in here,” Bonnie said.
    Rod quickly stepped into the outer room, his hand reaching out, stopping on Marla’s shoulder as he bent over to whisper something in her ear. Bonnie watched the woman’s eyes fill with surprise, although her facial muscles didn’t move. They probably couldn’t, Bonnie thought.
    â€œShe’s had so much plastic surgery, she looks like a quilt,” Diana muttered, echoing her thoughts. “Her chin is so pointed, she’s liable to stab someone with her face.”
    Bonnie had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from laughing, the laugh dying instantly in her throat as Rod walked back into the room. Rod’s hair had started turning gray when he was in his late twenties. Now it actually made him look younger than his forty-one years, emphasizing the deep brown of his eyes, and giving the harder edges of his face—his long nose and his square jaw—a much-needed softness.
    â€œDo the kids know?” he asked.
    â€œNot yet.” Bonnie walked to his side, put her arm through his.
    â€œWhat am I going to say to them?”
    â€œMaybe I can help,” Captain Mahoney offered, emerging from the crowd around Marla Brenzelle and entering the small room, shutting the door behind him. “I’m Randall Mahoney, captain of the Detective Bureau. Detective Kritzic and I are the ones who escorted your wife down here.”
    â€œWill you please tell me exactly what happened.”
    Bonnie watched her husband’s posture as he absorbed the news: his wide shoulders slumping forward with the confirmation that his ex-wife had indeed been shot and killed; his large hands dropping lifelessly to his sides with the revelation that Bonnie had agreed to meet with Joan that morning without telling him; his head shaking back and forth in denial when he learned that it was Bonnie who had called the police and then refused to cooperate further until she spoke with her lawyer.
    â€œShe’s a goddamn corporate lawyer, for Christ’s sake,” Rod whispered, not even trying to conceal his long-standing distaste for Diana. “Why did you call her?”
    â€œBecause I couldn’t reach you. And I didn’t know who else to call.”
    Rod turned back to Captain Mahoney. “Surely you don’t suspect my wife,” he stated more than asked.
    â€œWe’re just trying to find out as much information as possible at this stage,” Captain Mahoney told him.
    Bonnie heard something new in the policeman’s voice, a subtle hint of conspiracy, as if what he was really saying to her husband was: We’re both men; we know how these things work; we don’t let our emotions get the better of us; now that you’re here, maybe we can start making some progress.
    â€œDo