Free False Pretenses by Kathy Herman Page A

Every ingredient that went into making her new life pleasant was carefully chosen. She broke a few rules getting what she needed, but no harm had come to anyone because of it.
    She would have been content just to own Zoe B’s. Falling for Pierce had been both an inconvenience and a gift. Never had she imagined she could trust a man, let alone love one. Yet hadn’t the past five years been the best of her life? Wasn’t she secure enough with Pierce to want to have his children?
    I know what you did . Fear gripped her as she considered again the implication of the notes. Was someone about to wreck everything she’d worked for? What did he or she want from her—a confession? Retribution? Hush money?
    Even if she could scrape up the money, was she willing to be blackmailed? A demand for money would likely result in another and another. And how long could she keep it from Pierce?
    God, I know what I did was wrong. But what choice did I have? I would never have gotten out any other way. How else was I supposed to support myself?
    Maybe she should just tell Pierce the truth and trust that his love for her was stronger than the shock and disappointment he would feel. But was it? How would he react when he found out that she wasn’t the person he thought she was? Would he doubt that her feelings for him were authentic when everything else about her had been fabricated, including her happy childhood and the death of her parents? Would he still want to start a family when he found out she didn’t have a drop of Cajun blood in her ancestry—and what her family was really like …?
    The sound of fist hitting flesh and her mother’s crying sent terror through her.
    “Shelby! Michael! I know you can hear me!” Her father’s voice was earsplitting, his speech slurred. “This is your mom’s fault! She brought it on herself! I didn’t want to hurt her! You know that!”
    Her father ranted for quite some time. Then things got quiet. Too quiet. Was he coming for her now?
    Shelby pulled the covers over her head and hugged her doll. She learned early on it was useless to fight him. She just closed her eyes and hoped he would pass out.
    Why couldn’t she have been born in a different family …?
    “Excuse me, ma’am. Are you Zoe Broussard?”
    The young male voice startled her. She looked up and saw a freckled boy of about ten or eleven, holding a skateboard under his arm.
    “Yes. Who are you?”
    “Jacob Millet. I’m supposed to give this to you.” The boy handed her an envelope with her name typed on the front.
    Zoe felt as if her heart were falling down a well. “Who’s this from?”
    “The man didn’t tell me his name,” Jacob said. “He was in a hurry. He gave me ten dollars to bring it to you.”
    “How did you know where to find me?”
    “He pointed to you from the parking lot.”
    Zoe’s heart sank. The guy had been following her? “What did he look like?”
    “I couldn’t really tell. He was on a motorcycle and wore a helmet with an eye shield. He said you were expecting this envelope—that it was very important and you would know who it was from.”
    “Where is he now?”
    “He had to leave. He said he’d be in touch.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “Just a couple minutes.”
    Zoe locked gazes with Jacob and saw a polite young boy who thought he had done a good deed. She softened her tone. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”
    Jacob’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Yes, ma’am. But the man didn’t seem dangerous, and lots of other people were around. I can sure use the ten bucks. I’m saving to buy a new skateboard.”
    “All right, Jacob. Thanks for delivering the envelope.”
    “You’re welcome. Have a nice day.”
    Zoe stared at the note in her hand and then tore it open. The same five words were cut from a magazine and pasted on a sheet of white paper: I know what you did.
    How could he know? Who was he? And what was his next move?
    Zoe felt sick to her