Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 Read Online Free PDF Page B

mini-hotrod. As I handed it to him, the kid fi nally looked at me.
    And I felt like he’d kicked me right in the stomach.
    Holy shit.
    Th
    is little boy had Ben’s eyes.
    My breath stalled. When my gaze wandered over his face I noticed he also had a hint of Ben’s crooked smile.
    Blood slammed into my head. Jesus. Th
    is was im-
    possible. It had to be an illusion, or projection, or wishful thinking on my part, at the very least.
    Didn’t it?
    My gaze fl ew to hers. But with my jaw hanging to my kneecaps, and no air left in my lungs, I couldn’t speak.
    Abita stared back at me. “Uncanny, isn’t it? How much he looks like Ben?”
    37

    A choking sound escaped from me, and Jericho glanced up at me with alarm.
    Looked at me with Ben’s eyes.
    Th
    ere was that potent punch in my gut again.
    “Is he?” I managed to squeak out.
    Abita didn’t play coy. “Yes.”
    Jericho rolled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his mother’s leg. “Mama, I’m cold. We go now?”
    Th
    ey couldn’t leave.
    Somehow I made my knees bend and I hunkered down beside him. “I’d like it if you stayed.”
    He hid his sweet face in his mother’s skirt.
    I tried again. “Would you and your mom like to come inside? Have a cup of hot chocolate and some cookies?”
    He peeked out, clearly interested. Th
    en his dark
    38

    head disappeared again.
    Abita said, “You don’t have to—”
    “I want to.” I forced my greedy gaze away from her son. My brother’s son. “We’ve got things to talk about, don’t you think, or you wouldn’t have come here.”
    She nodded.
    Before I stood, Jericho bravely inched closer to me.
    I didn’t dare move.
    His hazel eyes were on my hair. Like all impulsive little kids, when he saw something he wanted, he just reached out and touched it. “Pretty,” he said softly.
    My breath caught, startling him back to the safety of his mother’s skirt.
    “Sorry. He’s kinda curious.”
    “It’s okay,” I said, thinking of Martinez’s obsession with my hair. “I’m used to it.” I off ered my hand, using the ruse that worked with my seven-year old neighbor, Kiyah. “I have mini-marshmallows. I’ll even let you put in as many as you want.”
    Jericho’s head popped out like a prairie dog’s. “Really?”
    “Really.”
    He ignored my hand and tugged Abita toward the steps by her skirt. “Mama. Come on.”
    I breathed a slow sigh of relief. Once they were inside, I wouldn’t let them leave until I had some damn answers.
    Kevin was slumped in the recliner, drinking my 39

    beer. He gave me a strange look, but ever the gentleman, he left his comfy spot and rose to his feet.
    “Abita,” I said, “this is my partner, Kevin Wells.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Abita said.
    “Th
    e pleasure is all mine.” He smiled. “Who’s this little guy?”
    Jericho lifted his head and looked right at Kevin.
    “Holy crap,” Kevin said, easing some of my doubts that I’d imagined the resemblance between the boy and Ben.
    “Sorry.” Kevin sent Abita a sheepish smile. “He looks so much like . . .” His eyes connected with mine.
    “Ben.”
    “You knew Ben too?” Abita asked.
    “Yes.” Kevin hadn’t looked away from me.
    “I’m fi ne.”
    “Where’s the marshmallows?” Jericho demanded.
    “In the kitchen.” I said to Kevin, “I promised Jericho hot chocolate.”
    We marched into my little kitchen. Abita and Jericho sat at my chrome dinette.
    I scrounged around in the back of the canned goods cabinet and snagged three boxes of Girl Scout Th in Mint
    cookies. Not my favorite, but I was a sucker for the neighborhood girls looking so offi
    cial and proud in those ugly
    uniforms, I ended up with a dozen boxes every year.
    On autopilot, I grabbed the bottle of Hershey’s choc-40

    olate syrup and milk from the fridge. Kevin unhooked a saucepan from the hanging pan rack. We worked in tandem like an old married couple. He matched up the cups and saucers; I lined the spoons and marshmallows on the