The Sometime Sister by Katherine Nichols (e novels for free .TXT) 📗

and a knit top with a plunging V-neck that, thanks to a painful push-up bra, provided an ample view of cleavage. I added eyeliner and more mascara along with blush and lipstick. Three-inch open-toed power heels perfected an image that said, You’re going to want to touch me, but if you do, I’ll shove my shoe up your ass, pointy end first.

They returned about an hour after me. Justin looked startled when I opened the door. “Jeez, Grace.”

“What Mr. Smooth meant to say is you look very nice.” Harry took out a digital camera and sat down at the round wicker table in the kitchenette. “I think it would be a good idea for you to check out the house ahead of time.”

He showed me a pamphlet he picked up in a real estate office on the way to Ben’s. Montañita Estates was a proposed subdivision of luxury homes with a clubhouse, tennis courts, and pool. Next, he took out his camera and scrolled through pictures of vacant lots with incredible views of the ocean and a few construction sites occupied by skeletons of unfinished structures.

The last series began with a shot of an enormous structure of three rectangular two-story, boxlike sections. The gray stucco exterior gave the house an industrial look alleviated somewhat by the sparkling glass-paneled front.

“We couldn’t get a good view of the back without drawing too much attention. But there’s at least one balcony off the master bedroom.” Harry shook his head. “Looks like a giant fish tank, no privacy. Of course, Ben’s is the only house for miles, so that’s not an issue.”

“It also means we won’t be able to get as close as we need to,” Justin said.

“That makes it even more important for you to be careful,” Harry repeated. “I think you should act as if he’s nothing more than a grieving husband. Show him a little sympathy to keep him off guard.”

“I’m not sure I could convince him I felt sorry for him. If I remember correctly, the last time I saw him I told him to rot in hell.” The men exchanged looks. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

We left before one. Justin would ride with me in the rental car most of the way. When we were within a few minutes of Ben’s, I would drop him off, and they would drive to the overlooking hill.

“The turnoff is just ahead,” he said.

I edged to the side of the road, and Harry came up behind us.

“I’m serious, Grace,” he said before opening the door. “Don’t do anything crazy.”

I promised once more to be cautious. Then they left me alone with my wire and wits.

I was less than a quarter of a mile from where Stella had spent her last few years and possibly where she died.

The house was more oppressive in person than in Harry’s pictures. It sat on an incline separated from the roadside by a concrete and stone wall. Short, thick shrubbery lined the top of it, dividing the native beauty of the area and the man-made obstruction above it. Rather than navigating the steep driveway, I parked on the street and followed the pathway up to the entrance. There was no porch, only an alcove constructed of open beams. The door was camouflaged amid all the glass.

At the entryway, I strained to glimpse what lay beyond. But sunlight on the windows bounced back, leaving the interior dark and lifeless. Instead of a luxury dwelling, I was looking into an elegant prison. For a moment, I felt as if I were Stella trapped in this rectangular cage far from home and family.

I rang the bell and waited for what seemed like forever before a boy who was still in his teens opened the door. His thick, dark hair hung low on his forehead. He pushed it back, and I noticed a small half-moon and three shooting stars tattooed on his slender wrist. He smiled and motioned me into a two-story foyer with an elaborate chandelier of metal cylinders composed of organ pipes. While I marveled at the fixture, he disappeared down a side hall.

Standing alone there, I began to lose my nerve. What made me think I could outwit my ex? I turned to bolt for the door.

“Grace!” Ben called from the winding staircase. “I knew you would come.”

Chapter 20

Clad in a pink polo and khaki shorts, he descended with outstretched arms. The rubber soles of his Ralph Lauren boat shoes stuck on the marble tile, and he stumbled. He regained his balance and stood in front of me, still in hug-mode.

The changes in Ben were shocking. He had taken great pride in his body, working out daily and running ten miles a week. The result had been impressive: broad shoulders, washboard abs, narrow hips, strong calves and legs. His sun-streaked hair had been thick and smooth, and, with the aid of twice a month two-hundred-dollar haircuts, it retained a casual look suggesting he was a bit of a rebel but still respected the establishment. Ben’s dark-brown eyes remained clear even after a night of heavy drinking. With a firm chin and muscular neck, he had exuded the confidence of someone who thinks money can solve all his problems.

The man standing in front of me was not the person I’d found dangerously desirable. Seeing this ruined version, I couldn’t fathom why losing him had been so devastating. It was like that moment when you look at a picture from your high school yearbook, the one with your hair in a pile, bangs teased and tufted, and think “What the hell was I thinking!”

This Ben had melted into himself. His shoulders were still broad but stooped. The line of demarcation between his chest and stomach had blurred into a small, but definitive, beer belly. The shorts hung on his butt, not quite low enough to hide scrawny thighs. A network of deep lines etched jaundiced brown eyes, and his once firm jawline had slackened. The hair he’d been