Free Sweet Little Lies by J.T. Ellison Page A

it.”
    “Fine. It’s your father. He’s gone missing.
From THE SHIVER.”
    A rush of emotion filled her, and she sat up,
swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Win Jackson. Winthrop
Thomas Stewart Jackson IV, to be exact. Her illustrious father,
gone missing? Taylor let the lump settle in her throat, blinked
back the uncharacteristic tears that had come to the surface.
    Her father. Her chest tightened. Oh man, she
didn’t even want to think what this might mean. Missing. That
equals dead when you’re gone from a boat in the high seas, doesn’t
it?
    Father. Amazing how that one word could
trigger an avalanche of bitterness. She heard the rumors fly
through her head like migrating birds. Daddy got his little girl a
place in the Academy. Daddy bought his little girl a transfer out
of uniform into homicide. Daddy gave the mayor a major campaign
contribution and bought his little girl the Lieutenant’s title.
Good ole Win Jackson. Corporate raider, investment banker, lawyer,
politician. An all around crook, wrapped up with a hearty laugh
into a deceptively handsome package. Win was a Nashville legend. A
legend Taylor tried to stay as far away from as possible.
    Sitting on the edge of her bed in her
darkened bedroom, the thought of him evoked a rich scent, some
expensive cologne he’d gotten in London and insisted on importing
every year for Christmas.
    She heard her Mother shouting in her ear.
    “Taylor? Taylor, are you there?”
    “Yes, Mother, I’m here. What was he doing out
on THE SHIVER anyway? I didn’t think he was sailing anymore.”
    “Well, you know your father.”
    No, I don’t.
    “He decided to take the yacht to St. Bart’s.
St. Kitts. Saint, oh, who knows. One of those Caribbean islands.
I’m sure he had some little slut with him, sailed off into the
sunset. And now it seems he may have gone overboard.”
    There was no emotion in Kitty Jackson’s
voice. Devoid of emotion, of love, of feelings. Taylor wondered
sometimes if her mother’s heart had ceased to beat.
    “Have the Coast Guard been called in?”
    “Taylor, you’re the law enforcement… person.
I certainly don’t know the answer to that. Besides, I’m leaving the
country. I’m wintering in Gstaad.”
    “Huh?”
    “Skiing. October through January. Don’t you
remember? I sent you the itinerary. I won’t have time to deal with
this and get packed.”
    The petulant tone made razor cuts up Taylor’s
spine. Kitty’s first concern had always been Kitty. For Christ’s
sake, her husband was missing. It was possible he had gone
overboard, was dead… but that was Kitty for you. Always ready with
a self-absorbed tale of woe.
    “Thank you for letting me know, Mother. I’ll
look into it. Have a lovely vacation, won’t you? Goodbye.”
    Taylor clicked off the phone before her
mother could respond.
    Jesus, Win. What kind of trouble have you
gotten yourself into now?
    Taylor started to roll back into place,
determined to get at least another hour of sleep when the phone
rang again. Now what? She looked at the caller ID, recognized the
number. Answered in a more professional tone than she’d used with
her mother.
    “Taylor Jackson.”
    “Got a dead girl you need to come see.”
    “I’ll be right there.”
     
     
     
    JUDAS KISS
     
    Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All
rights reserved.
     
    Michelle Harris sat at the stoplight on Old
Hickory and Highway 100, grinding her teeth. She was late. Corinne
hated when she was late. She wouldn’t bitch at her, wouldn’t
chastise her, would just glance at the clock on the stove, the
digital readout that always, always ran three minutes ahead of time
so Corinne could have a cushion, and a little line would appear
between her perfectly groomed eyebrows.
    Their match was in an hour. They had plenty
of time, but Corinne would need to drop Hayden at the nursery and
have a protein smoothie before stretching in preparation for their
game. Michelle and Corinne had been partners in tennis