The Sister-in-Law: An absolutely gripping summer thriller for 2021 by Pamela Crane (best romance novels of all time .TXT) 📗

to trust her, to like her. But this nagging feeling … it tugged at my shirt like an insistent child. Something was off. The little details, like where she was from. Every new answer poked another hole in her timeline. Before, she had told me the baby was from a one-night-stand. Her revision implied Noah was the baby’s father. Which was the truth? Which was the lie? How did one even sift through them to find out? Plus she hadn’t yet been honest with Lane about the baby not being his. If I could just find something to prove she was who she said she was, I would feel so much better.

By now, the manager and two cashiers were huddled around the feisty shopper, trying to get to the bottom of the pricing fiasco. I still had to wait through child abductor’s cartful before it was my turn. The kids were occupied with hair scrunchies and a rainbow paper windmill. Opening Google on my phone, I searched for Candace Moriarty, Pennsylvania. Or was it Ohio? I had lost track of facts, if there were any. I expected an old address listing to pop up, or a White Pages listing. But there was absolutely nothing except a record for a woman who had passed away years ago. If there was no history of Candace Moriarty, did she even exist? Or did she go by another last name? Maybe Noah’s.

My online search came to a stop when the phone beeped with an incoming text from Lane: Is Candace with you?

I texted back: Who dis? New phone.

Apparently Lane didn’t find my joke funny: I’m serious. Have you seen her?

A moment later Lane’s name, along with his profile picture – a shot of us taken on a beach trip four years ago – flashed on the screen. My pregnant belly was cut off from the bottom of the image, but I remembered the trip like it was last week. The five of us filling the three-bedroom beachfront condo, sand toys scattered across the deck while our towels, hanging from the railing, whipped back and forth in the salty ocean breeze. Lane carrying Jackson on his shoulders, Ben carrying Elise and the beach chairs. I had been forbidden from carrying anything but the baby inside me. With our backs to the ocean and our faces to the sun, Lane held out my camera and captured a selfie of the two of us in a perfect day.

I picked up on the first ring, the urge to tell him everything bursting out of my seams. Had I promised not to say anything to Lane? Or was I bound to secrecy by an unspoken sisterly pact?

When I answered, Lane sounded out of breath. ‘Hey, Harper. Do you know where Candace is?’ The tip of his question rose with hope that my answer would be yes.

‘What do you mean? Isn’t she home?’

‘No, and I haven’t seen her at all today. I was hoping she was with you.’

‘Sorry, she’s not with me. Why are you so concerned? And why are you out of breath?’

‘I, uh, just got back from a jog. But she was gone when I woke up, and I haven’t heard from her all day. That’s not like her.’

And jogging was not like Lane. Certainly not in a downpour. And it didn’t sound like Candace to just disappear all day without a word.

‘I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe she’s just been out shopping all day. Or she’s out with friends?’

‘She doesn’t have any friends … that I know of.’

There’s a lot you don’t know about your wife, I wanted to say. ‘Look, it’s still early in the day. She’ll probably turn up this evening. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a grown woman, and grown women go out sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.’

‘You’re probably right. I wouldn’t have given it a second thought if she’d just answer my calls or texts. She never takes off without touching base. And she left her purse with her wallet inside. How could she go shopping without it?’

That information would have been helpful earlier in the conversation.

‘Are you sure she took her phone with her?’

‘One sec.’ The line rustled with the sound of Lane rummaging through her purse. ‘I don’t see her phone, and when I called it I didn’t hear it ring. I can only assume she has it on her. So she left with the car and presumably her phone, but no purse. Is that normal for women to do?’

It was not something that I would ever do, but who was to say Candace wouldn’t? I gasped, hand to mouth, at the worry that crashed into my head. My dread hopscotched from Candace to Noah. A humiliated man was the most dangerous man. She had left him, crushed his ego, stole his unborn baby. If he had found out he was the father, it wouldn’t surprise me if he came after her. With Candace, nothing would surprise me.

‘Lane? I might know who Candace is with.’

‘Who?’ He sounded relieved, but he shouldn’t have been.

‘I’ll be home shortly. We need to talk. There’s something about Candace you need to know.’

Chapter 20

Lane

It was almost eleven o’clock at night before headlights streaked across the steel-gray wall as Candace pulled up the driveway. Up until this moment I had been worried about my missing wife. Now I was pissed beyond words.

‘It looks like she finally decided to come home.’ Keeping me company with distressing conversation, Harper watched me while I watched the front door. ‘You ready for this?’ Harper asked.

‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

Harper knew better than to press. She pulled out a Better Homes & Gardens magazine from beneath a stack of mail, examining it. ‘They still haven’t updated my address.’ She glanced over at me. ‘Why did you pick up my mail from the Hendricks Way house? I stopped by today and the mailbox was empty.’

Damn. I hadn’t thought she’d notice. ‘Oh, um, I was in the area.’

‘Doing