The Deadly Neighbors (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF

socks.” She stood at the can, mourning, addressing each item.
    “We’ll get new stuff. I promise.”
    She nodded soberly.
    “I have an idea.” I stood, struggling to sound cheerful. “How about we order a pizza?”
    She stopped her farewells, silent for a while. Then, in a soft, serious tone, she uttered, “Pepperoni?”
    Somehow, a pepperoni pizza lifted her spirit and restored her faith in life, and we made it through the evening. By the time she went to bed, Molly was chattering about her soccer team practice and teacher, Mrs. Kellen, and her friend Hari’s dog, Lucy, who was about to have puppies. Amazingly resilient, she seemed already recovered from the crises of the day.
    Unlike her mom. For me, the upheaval, like the night, was just beginning.

S EVEN
    I WENT INTO THE living room and curled up on my purple velvet sofa, waiting for Nick to come home, remembering the trouble in his eyes, preparing for the inevitable conversation. Nick would be steady and controlled, never admitting that he was hurt. But I could see him almost as if he were in the room with me, his gaze accusing me of being a hypocrite. After all, hadn’t I been the one who’d insisted on unflinching honesty and openness? Hadn’t I hesitated to get involved with him because I wasn’t sure he could be completely forthcoming? Hadn’t I been concerned about the secrets in his past, about his former “work” relationship with a sexy forensic psychologist, about his role in his former wife’s death? Hell, hadn’t I been alarmed that Nick hadn’t volunteered the truth about the scar on his face, that he’d neglected to mention that the bullet that had paralyzed half his face had been fired by his own late wife? Hadn’t I preached to him about the virtues of honesty and openness? And now, after all my preaching and probing, hadn’t I proved that I was just as guilty as he was of keeping secrets?
    I listed Nick’s imagined accusations, accepting my guilt. It was true, all of it. I’d kept secrets. For all my insistence on full disclosure, I had held back a number of significant facts. I’d told him that my mother had died, but left out the circumstances of her death. I’d skimmed over details of my motherless childhood, had barely mentioned Hilda, the housekeeper who’d helped raise me. I’d only vaguely referred to the string of holidays I’d spent with friends and college roommates, only hinted at the dread I’d felt at having to return home. And I’d omitted telling him anything at all about my father.
    How could I defend myself? What could I say that would explain? No doubt, Nick would accuse me of walling myself off, not exposing my weak spots, not trusting him, not being capable of trust. Would I have a defense? Was there one?
    The fact was that all of those accusations were accurate. I didn’t know if I was capable of fully revealing myself to anybody. It wasn’t just Nick—it was everyone. I hadn’t told even my closest friends about my childhood or my father. But that wouldn’t wash; Nick wasn’t just anyone. He was the man I was about to marry. The daddy of the child I was carrying. The man I loved. Presumably, Nick was closer to me than anyone. Shouldn’t I have clued him in on the fact that his future father-in-law was alive and residing a few miles away? Shouldn’t I have explained the reasons for our estrangement, told him why Dad’s name wasn’t on the wedding list?
    Okay, yes. I should have. Definitely. So, instead of defending myself, I would simply admit my mistake. Apologize. Pledge never to withhold again. Swear that I had no other secrets. And Nick would probably forgive me, or at least pretend to. After all, he was pragmatic, and he had to deal with the pressing issues first. The circumstances of Beatrice’s death would take priority; the murkier issues of our relationship would wait until later and, with any luck, they’d fade away without further conflict. I practiced my lines—my description of