Death on the Coast by M Comley (best book recommendations TXT) 📗

there for a while, thinking about Mark and wondering why he had shown up at the wedding, only to leave before she got a chance to talk with him. What had been the purpose of that?

Her heart moved her to think about Brendon and their dance. She stretched in her baby doll pajamas, hugging her pillow and clinging on to the far more pleasant thoughts flowing through her. She decided it was a morning to pamper herself.

As her bath ran, she brewed a cup of tea and carried it, along with a small plate of leftover wedding cake into the bathroom. It felt indulgent to slide into the bubbling water. She placed the tea and cake on a tray that spanned the tub.

She was about to take a bite of cake when the phone rang in the next room. “Darn!” She thought about running for it, but decided that she deserved the break, so chose to ignore it and picked up the back scrubber. Once the task was completed, she followed it up with a sip of tea.

Sliding into her robe, she wrapped a yellow towel around her wet hair and went in search of her phone. She found it mixed in with the blankets that had slipped off her bed. She didn’t recognize the number, and the ID had listed it as Caller Unknown. She tapped the number and was surprised as it rang. There was a click as it was answered, but there was no voice at the other end.

“Hello?” she asked. “This is Lucy Diamond. I believe you just called me?” She pulled her robe tighter, looking over her shoulder out the window while the stranger on the phone remained silent.

Eventually, a timid voice said, “Lucy?”

“Mark? Mark, is that you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but she picked up that there was music in the distance, so she knew the connection was still intact. “Mark? Answer me, please. Where are you?”

“I’ve done a bad thing, Lucy. Unforgiveable, really.”

There was interference on the line.

“Mark? What do you mean? What have you done?”

“Meet me. You know the place.” Then came silence. No more music, no static. Just silence.

Lucy tried tapping the callback button, but it rang out.

She sat on her bed, frustrated. What should I do? She began to tap Brendon’s number, but stopped, canceling it out. She had nothing to fear from her own husband, and he wasn’t wanted for any crime—at least not as far as she knew. There was no reason she shouldn’t go to meet him, to hear what he had to say for himself.

Lucy sat at her vanity and blowdried her hair, running her fingers through the strands to help dry it quickly. Frustrated, she gathered her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a hairband, then removed denim slacks and a button-up blouse out of the closet. Pulling them on as she snatched her purse and headed down the stairs, her blouse was fully buttoned by the time she opened the front door. She made it all the way to the end of the block before she realized she was still barefoot. She cursed under her breath and turned back toward the house, hoping that the delay wouldn’t cause Mark to change his mind.

She approached the junction and waited for a car to pass. Irritatingly, it was traveling slowly. “Come on, buster, I haven’t got all day. Get a move on.” She tapped the steering wheel, her impatience growing. As the car got close, she gasped; it was Mark!

Her first impulse was to hurry after him, assuming that he’d obviously changed his mind and decided to come home. Something stopped her, though. With a cold charge of realization shooting through her gut, she knew with a certainty that it had all been a ploy. He’d wanted her out of the house for some reason. Was he coming home to clear out his personal effects? Was there something else he was after? Maybe their checkbook. She was becoming more and more angry by the second. She reasoned that had his intentions been honest and above board, he wouldn’t have tried to lure her away from their home.

She punched her purse, whipped open the zipper and rooted around for her phone. A car honked behind her, so she eased the car over to the side and, when it passed, drove ahead another block and turned down the street so Mark wouldn’t be able to see her. Lucy tapped Brendon’s number.

“Hi, it’s Lucy.”

“Hey there. What’s up?”

She swallowed hard. “Mark’s here.”

“Okay, where is here?”

“Wait. He called and asked me to meet him up on the path. It was always our place. So, I agreed, but was in such a hurry, I forgot my shoes. I went around the block and that’s when I saw the car turn in front of me, and Mark was driving.”

“Is it his car?”

“No. I’ve never seen it.”

He tutted. “Where are you?”

“On Cove Street, one block north. I’m at the end in the cul-de-sac, hoping he won’t see me.”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” The line went dead.

Lucy’s heart raced, although she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t afraid of Mark, but he was acting very strangely. Something was definitely going on.

Brendon’s squad car slowed down at the end of Cove Street. He was checking to make sure she was okay before he turned down the street toward her house. Lucy gave him a couple of seconds of grace and then followed.

The garage door was up, and Mark was standing in the driveway. Brendon’s squad car door was open, and he had one arm over the top. They were talking. Lucy hesitated, but finally pressed the accelerator and drew up alongside Brendon.

“Mark?” She climbed out of the car.

“Lucy, maybe you should wait in the car?” Brendon’s hand was extended in her direction.

“Why? He’s my husband and told me to meet him, clearly trying to get me out of the house while he sneaked in. I think if anyone should be here, it should be me.”

Brendon