Poisoned Pin: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

The only thing coming up for me was a batch of tears. I turned away and started walking home before anyone could see. The whole day seemed to come crashing in on me at once.
    Poor Derek, uncaring nephew though he was, was dead. Harvey was left to live alone in this big old house he believed to be haunted by murderous spirits from the past. I’d made Will feel like I thought he was incompetent, and I hadn’t even apologized. That’s exactly what I should have done. Except I don’t really do apologies. Who was the last person I’d apologized to, besides Blythe? How often did I apologize to her, anyway?
    And why did I care so much about Will Riggins and his feelings? It wasn’t so much that I cared what he thought of me; I cared that he was hurt. I cared about him . And I had no business caring about Will Riggins. I told myself he’d get over his hurt feelings fast enough. He was a guy, after all. As for what he thought of me, it was better this way. Contrary to what Blythe thought, I did not need a relationship right now.
    I walked briskly across the street, as though I had something important to do in the park, as if I didn’t really want to break into a run. As if there weren’t tears streaming down my face. Past the big wooden swing, around the side of a big bush, was a stone bench, just like the benches anchored in the rolling hill of an open lawn that comprised most of the park. But this bench was clearly meant for seclusion. For moments like this.
    Okay, so it was probably really meant for lovers to sit on, hand in hand, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Too bad my life was turning into a not-so-sweet bunch of nothing. Anyway, a moment on that bench was just what I needed. It was just a few feet from the bramble-covered edge of the rocky slope to the beach forty feet below. Completely secluded. Perfect. Just the right spot for an epic meltdown.
    Around the corner from the bench grew a cluster of small, windblown trees that formed a cave-like nook. The sort of place that would’ve been magic to me and Blythe when we were kids. In a simpler time, when make-believe was all but real and my Olympic dreams were brand new, covered in the same kind of glitter as Blythe’s Cinderella play-acting.
    “Where’s the glitter!” I yelled through my tears. “Where’s my fairy godmother?”
    The bush rustled. Two little heads peeked around the corner. A boy about eight years old, brandishing a stick, ready to strike out at the crazy lady. His button nose was scrunched up, his eyes narrowed. Beside him was a girl about three or four, wearing a purple princess dress over her jeans and T-shirt. Her dark brown eyes were wide and serious.
    Oh. My. Word. I choked down a sob. This was it. Just the perfect way to top off the monumental awfulness of the day. They were young kids. Their mother wouldn’t be far away. I was only moments away from total humiliation. I tried to think of something reassuring, something not crazy to say. Something to explain my toddler-esque outburst.
    “Are you a bum?” the little boy said.
    Okay, so the kid wasn’t very PC yet. I was just about to say yes, and hope he dismissed me and forgot me altogether, but the little girl ripped the stick from her brother’s hand and gave it a little shake in my direction. There was no mistaking the wand-waving gesture.
    For a second, I just gaped. The boy took his stick back with an eye-roll at his sister.
    She regarded me expectantly, as though waiting to see if her magic had any effect. “Thank you,” I whispered with a smile. I didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh.
    She smiled back, and I swear it glittered. And then the boy jerked her away, and they both disappeared around the corner, the boy yelling, “Mom!”
    I tumbled off the bench and tore through the bushes in the opposite direction. I was going to have to take the long way home.

6

    I thought I’d done a pretty good job of composing myself before I pushed open the dojo