To Hell in a Handbasket Read Online Free PDF Page A

a month or so.”
    â€œThey must be doing well.” Roger’s tone was wistful.
    Claire glanced at him. After Enrique, a massage therapist, was shot and killed in Claire’s bedroom two months earlier and the Colorado Springs police accused Roger of the crime, Roger had lost his corporate job as a chief financial officer during the resulting lurid publicity. He had been exonerated for the crime, but he hadn’t gotten his position back. Or found another one yet.
    She smoothed her hand across his shoulders. “We’re doing well, too, Roger. Well enough for me.” Thank goodness they were diligent savers and had a considerable cushion.
    He flashed her a half smile, as if he half-believed her.
    Claire pointed at the sign for the Continos’ street. “There’s the turn.”
    â€œThe house is the third one on the right,” Judy added.
    Roger pulled into the long driveway and parked behind a large black SUV. “A Range Rover. I should’ve known.”
    He can’t be that envious. “I’m sure your X-Five is just as classy as his Range Rover.”
    â€œThat Range Rover costs twenty to twenty-five K more than my car.” At Claire’s sharp glance, Roger patted her hand. “Wishful thinking. That’s all.” He stepped out, his shoes crunching on the frozen snow.
    While Claire climbed out, she pondered why men always had to measure themselves against other males. Even when they were doing well, like Roger, they always managed to find someone who made more money, was a better athlete, had a larger banana. She sighed. That’s why we women have to keep telling them their bananas are plenty large enough for us.
    When they walked onto the porch, Judy slipped her hand into her father’s, reminding Claire why they had come. Claire took a deep, steadying breath as Roger rang the bell. The cold mountain air chilled her lungs.
    Nick opened the door, and Judy fell into his arms. He hugged her then shifted her to his side. He held her protectively against himself, as if he already felt responsible for her.
    The intimate gesture brought out Claire’s protective maternal instincts. She wasn’t ready to turn over her daughter to this young man. Not yet. Not until she was sure he valued Judy as much as Claire did.
    Nick stepped back to make room for Claire and Roger. “Come inside, please. Thanks for coming.” Dark shadows edged his eyes, accentuating his heavy brows, almost black eyes, and sharp nose. His sleek, predatory features reminded Claire of a hawk, but a stressed-out, exhausted hawk.
    Roger shook the young man’s hand. “I wish we were getting to know your parents under better circumstances, Nick.”
    â€œSo . . .” Nick’s voice caught in his throat, and he cleared it. “So do we. Mom and Dad are in the living room. I’ll take your coats.” After piling their coats on a nearby bench, he led the Hanovers down the hall.
    Claire clutched Roger’s arm, dreading the tears and anguish to come.
    When they entered the living room, Anthony Contino stood and offered his hand to Roger. He, too, had dark circles under his eyes. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Hanover.”
    â€œPlease, call me Roger. And call my wife Claire.”
    Claire shook Anthony’s hand. She looked at Angela, sitting on the green leather sofa. The woman was misery incarnate. Her formerly styled hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail. Obviously, she had tried applying some lipstick and blush, but most of it had rubbed off on the pile of wadded tissues before her. Tears still brimmed in her eyes, and her chin shook as she bit her lip.
    Claire did what came naturally. She sat next to Angela and put her arms around the woman. She whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
    That set them both to weeping again. Claire held Angela for a while, until they needed to snatch tissues from the box on the coffee table to wipe their