by Edie Claire
His lower jaw worked like a paint mixer.
“I couldn’t!” he wailed. “I heard from... a source of mine that you had amnesia, but I couldn’t come back here in case the police were watching—I knew they would identify you sooner or later. I’ve been absolutely frantic, not knowing what you would remember, or when, and whether or not you would remember that it was an accident! It’s been hell!”
Jamie made no response. She hadn’t thought that anything Bradley George Oswald the umpteenth did or said could possibly surprise her. But she was wrong. He seriously expected her to feel sorry for him.
“We can still make this right, you and I,” he said more gently, attempting a crocodile smile. “All you have to do is tell the police that I left your apartment before all this happened—that I had nothing to do with it and you don’t want my name involved. Make up somebody else—another lover, some homeless bum who broke in... anything!”
Jamie’s blood was near to boiling, but she was determined not to show it. She cocked her head to one side. “And I would do this... why?”
He faltered. “Because... because I can take care of you! You know that. We can still take that trip to Austria. I can take you anywhere in the world! You know I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. You’re perfect! You’re—” his voice broke off. “What’s happened with your eyes?”
Jamie’s lips curled slowly into a smile. “These eyes belong to the real Jamie. She’s been in hiding for a very long time, but she’s back now.” Her shoulders straightened. “And FYI, Bradley dear... I wouldn’t let you touch me again if you were the last lazy, shiftless, gutless, overweight, self-important, stuffed shirt, incompetent momma’s boy on the face of the whole freakin’ planet!”
His cheeks colored. The quavering jaw clenched tight. His dark eyes narrowed.
Jamie’s hand on the knife began to sweat. Personally running the bastard through with a dull blade would be poetic justice, but she had made a tactical error. Spineless slug or no, he was still stronger than she was—and furthermore, he was desperate. Although she could easily picture herself striking out at him on the night in question, premeditated physical confrontation was not her style. Brawling with larger males was Teagan’s bag; Jamie was more of a manipulator.
She drew in a slow breath. “Satisfying as it is to watch you sweat, Brad,” she said steadily, “your attempts to win my cooperation are too little, too late. I remembered your name at exactly 6:34 AM this morning. I was afraid the detective wouldn’t appreciate a call at that hour, but as it turns out, he was delighted. I’m rather surprised you haven’t heard from him yet, actually.”
The ruddy color that suffused his cheeks drained away. “You didn’t.”
“I did. Perhaps you should check the messages on your home phone. Or does your wife answer that one?”
His breath came in rapid, heaving gasps. “You traitorous little bitch! How dare you!”
Jamie tensed as his fists balled up at his sides. She had removed his motive for murder, but now he was furious with her, and if he felt he had nothing else to lose...
“Jamie?”
Startled, she looked up toward her open doorway as Brad whirled around in his tracks.
“The detective said he would be here any minute,” Teagan said calmly. “A squad car is on the way as well.”
Jamie’s heart leapt up into her throat. The social worker looked like something out of an ad for morning coffee—or mental health services. She was wearing faded sweats, bright green rubber snow boots, and what looked like a flannel pajama top poking out the neckline of her coat. Her hair was wild and she had on no makeup whatsoever, but despite all appearances to the contrary, she held herself like a Supreme Court justice.
“You might want to leave now,” she said to Brad, stepping purposefully out of the way of the door. “Or you can stay and turn yourself in when they get here. It’s up to you.”
Streams of sweat now rolled freely down Brad’s pallid face, dampening his carefully starched collar. His jaw worked furiously as his gaze swept from Teagan to Jamie, then back. After a few ragged breaths, he straightened, throwing his shoulders back with dignity. “I think it would be best, under the circumstances, if I spoke with my attorney first,” he said rigidly. He stepped toward the door, came abreast of Teagan, and offered a respectful nod. “I’m sure we can work this out peaceably. I’ve done what I can to make amends, but since Ms. Meadows has chosen to threaten me with a deadly weapon, there’s only so much I can do to reason with her. Sadly, it seems she has a penchant for violent assault.”
Teagan threw a glance at Jamie. Then her eyes drew level with his. “That’s funny. I don’t see any weapon.”
Brad’s face turned into a tomato. He threw one more caustic, furious look at Jamie, stomped out the door, and slammed it behind him.
Teagan locked the door and turned around.
Jamie slowly unbent her near-frozen elbow, retracted the knife blade, and dropped it onto the floor.
“You know,” she said to Teagan, her voice suddenly shaky. “You really do have the most uncanny timing.”
Teagan’s face remained expressionless. She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
Their eyes met. For a long moment, neither woman moved. “You shouldn’t have come back here,” Teagan said finally, her voice chastising.
Jamie’s eyes moistened. “Neither should you.”
Teagan’s mouth twitched. “Touché.”
“Why did you?” Jamie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again.”
Teagan exhaled slowly. “Shouldn’t I?”
Jamie swallowed. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. You think I’m trying to steal your husband.”
“Am I wrong?”
Jamie held Teagan’s gaze. “Yes... and no. What you saw last night was nothing. That damned training bra of yours was killing me, and I took it off so I could sleep. I didn’t wake up until you came in.”
Teagan let out a groan. “Then why didn’t—”
“But that didn’t mean I didn’t think about it,” Jamie interrupted. “Because I did.” She inhaled deeply. “But it wasn’t really Eric I wanted. I don’t even know him that well; I never did. What I wanted—” she faltered. “What I still want, is what he represents. Real love. Not just sex, not even just the romantic stuff. But something deeper, something that lasts. Your house, your family... it’s like everything I ever wanted, all wrapped up in one warm, welcoming, TV-perfect package. The pictures, the sappy figurines, ten decades of grease on the kitchen walls... hell, Teag, I even love that awful avocado-green toilet!”
A stray tear escaped one eye. “What’s pathetic is, I didn’t even know that’s what I wanted. Not until I had nothing else. I’m grateful to have my old life back, minus the last two months, anyway—but I’m not going back to the way I was. I want to make a fresh start.”
Teagan’s own eyes were glistening, but her jaw was set firmly. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you can make it happen. I... I do want you to be happy.”
Jamie smiled ruefully. “And I’m glad you already are. Without me around to screw everything up, anyway.”
A door slammed outside the front window. Jamie looked over her shoulder to see a police car parked on the curb. “You really did call them, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” Teagan answered. “I saw him through the window. The detective was right—he must have been having your apartment watched.”
Jamie nodded. “I guess so.” Teagan made a move as if to head for the door, and Jamie’s gut twisted painfully. “Teagan?” she began, not knowing what she would say. All she knew was that aside from a potential court date, she might never see her friend again. “Before you go, I just— I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For all the grief I’ve caused you. And Eric. And I’ll never forget everything you did for me. Not just the social worker stuff, but... everything else. Including coming after me this morning. I don’t know wha
t would have happened if you hadn’t come in when you did. Thank you.”
Teagan’s chin trembled slightly. But her return gaze was steely. “Well then, I guess this makes us even.”
Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Even?”
Teagan harrumphed. “You did save my life once. I would have drowned without you—or have you forgotten? Seems to me like rescuing you from a homicidal maniac should strike out that debt once and for all.”
Jamie’s face fell. A sense of obligation. That explained it.
“And if anyone takes a picture of me in this getup,” Teagan continued, “your debt’s going back up again. When I found out you’d left the shelter I was so flustered I only got half dressed and totally forgot I had no car. I had to run around and borrow one from a neighbor; he thinks I’m a lunatic now.”
Jamie allowed herself a grin. “There’s a Cocoa Puff stuck over your ear.”
“Shut up!” Teagan made a fruitless attempt to smooth the rat’s nest on her head, then stopped and turned her back on Jamie.
Jamie stiffened. Don’t go, Teag.
The images now were torment. Clear as day, bittersweet. Two girls, two fistfuls of mud. We’ll be just like real sisters. Just like if we had the same parents and everything. You can’t break that bond, no matter how far apart you wind up living. It’s for life.
Jamie’s jaws clenched tight.
Goodbye, Teag.
“And by the way,” Teagan continued, swinging back around. “If I ever catch you within a one-mile radius of my husband—not excluding any form of communication including calls, emails, texts, photos, smoke signals, or detectable thought waves, I will personally and repeatedly stab you through the heart with a sanded canoe paddle. Am I making myself clear?”
Jamie stared back, confused. “I don’t—”
“I’m not having you over at my house unless I know he’s gone, and you can’t drop by uninvited ever. You run into him accidentally and you immediately turn and run—not walk—the other way. Maybe someday when you’re married to some other guy and are six months pregnant and bloated up like a whale I’ll lighten the restrictions, but until then, they’re sacrosanct. You got it?”
A sister’s always a sister...
Jamie’s heart swelled. It wasn’t over.
Teagan did still care.
She did.
“I promise,” Jamie whispered softly.
An officer rapped on the door. “Police! Everything okay in there? Open up, please!”
Teagan started to turn around. “Oh, and Jamie,” she said offhandedly, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “You can have the damned toilet.”
Two palms slapping together; mud raining down like a shower.
Jamie’s face broke into a smile.
...No matter what.
Author's Note
If you enjoyed The Mud Sisters, you might also enjoy my works of what I call “Classic Romantic Suspense,” which are a blend of mystery and romance. Long Time Coming is the story of a housecall veterinarian who returns to her Kentucky hometown only to be haunted (in more ways than one) by memories of the accidental death of her childhood best friend. Meant To Be is the story of an adoptee searching to find her birth family—and finding more than she ever bargained for. Borrowed Time is the tale of a woman struggling to overcome the long-buried secret of what happened one tragic night when she was seventeen. You might also take a peek at my YA romance, Wraith, a haunting tale of love and shadows set on the North Shore of Oahu. And if you're a mystery lover, please also check out the Leigh Koslow Mystery Series: Never Buried, Never Sorry, Never Preach Past Noon, Never Kissed Goodnight, Never Tease a Siamese, and Never Con a Corgi.
To find out more about these and other books by Edie Claire, please visit my website or check out my Facebook page. If you'd like to be notified when future books are released, you can sign up for my new book alert. I always enjoy hearing from readers via email, so if you're so inclined, please drop me a note. Thanks so much for reading!
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Author's Note
