If Looks Could Kill Read Online Free PDF Page A

a little time with all three shifts," he said, not quite standing square on his feet, as if balanced to react. Tensed, even in the middle of the night in Pyrite. "And since Tina said you probably wouldn't mind, I thought I'd give you the note about that situation in St. Louis on my way home. So you can get in touch with them."
    He was doing his best to keep his attention on her face but, like everybody who came to Chris's house for the first time, it seemed he couldn't help letting his gaze stray over her shoulder. Chris couldn't exactly blame him. She never had opted for the conventional, and now that she could afford it, she was able to satisfy all her whims. And appease her phobias.
    "Come on in," she invited, pushing open the screen door.
    He didn't hesitate. When he reached her entryway, his head went right back to take in the stamped ceiling some thirty feet over his head, and he laughed. "Well, they told me."
    Chris looked after him, knowing that what she saw was different than what he did. He probably saw the huge rectangular room that had once comprised Pyrite's General Mercantile and now held her living and dining area, the balcony fifteen feet up that edged all four walls with workspace and bedroom, the mahogany cases that had once sported dry goods, and the new two-story greenhouse out the back that served as kitchen and extra dose of sunlight while she worked. Now the addition was shaded like all the other windows, and the track lighting ruled.
    "What's your electric bill like?" he asked, eyes following the high white walls back down to glossy hardwood floors.
    Chris smiled, hands on hips, seeing every corner in her big, bright house. Seeing the shadows evicted. It still didn't always help, but it was better than anything she'd had before. "Not all mystery writers yearn to live in gothic towers," she said. "I happen to like bright, open spaces."
    "It's really excellent," Shelly spoke up from where she stood at the bathroom door. Clad only in the oversized T-shirt that brushed the tops of her thighs, she presented a totally different picture than the waif who'd landed on Chris's doorstep.
    Chris went right into action. If there was one thing she could depend on from Shelly, it was inappropriate behavior. Chris was halfway across the floor before either Shelly or the Chief could comment.
    "Back inside," she commanded. "The front door's still open."
    "But I want to say hello." Shelly pouted, suddenly looking older than her fifteen years, her attention on Chris's latest guest.
    A confused adolescent was a dangerous beast. Especially one who'd been abused. Shelly had no idea how to act around men, which was why she ended up with dates like Bobby Lee.
    "Say hello," Chris instructed, standing foursquare in front of her and blocking her view of MacNamara and vice versa, "and then get your little butt back in that bathroom or the deal's off."
    For just the briefest of moments, Chris was exposed to the anger, the blind, flashing fury that bubbled beneath the surface of that troubled, painfully uncertain child. Fear, shame, hurt, all chased quickly across Shelly's expressive features before she capitulated with no more than a shrug. "Hello, Chief. I'm Shelly Axminster. Chris says I can't stay to visit." Then she leaned around Chris and flashed the chief her best smile. "Maybe later."
    To his credit, MacNamara refused the bait. "Hello, Shelly. If you don't mind, I need to talk to Chris for a minute."
    "Oh, about that mad killer thing," Shelly gushed, eyes wide, leaning farther around Chris, her expression avid. "Is he headed this way? Are you staying tonight to protect us?"
    Chris grabbed the girl by the shoulders and swung her back toward the bathroom. "There's plenty of stuff to read in there. Take a bath if you want. If you come out before I come in to get you, you've lost your visitation rights here. Understood?"
    That almost pretty face teetered on the edge of rebellion for just a second before crumbling into submission.