Free Scandal in Copper Lake by Marilyn Pappano

another breath, turned away and walked into the house. The windows were open in every room except the front bedroom, and the gentle breeze floating in from the kitchen was scented with cocoa and butter and coconut, ingredients in the cookies she’d made to take to her neighbors. She didn’t need to hear quiet footsteps to know that Robbie followed her. She felt his presence. Felt his gaze on her. Felt his ambivalence toward her.
    He knew he would break her heart, too. He preferred his lovers well-bred, educated, sophisticated, elegant. He liked women who blended in at the country club—fair-skinned, blond, blue-eyed—who understood the value of influence, appearances and convention.
    But he wanted her.
    At least for sex.
    At least for a while.
    She went into the kitchen, fixed two glasses of iced tea and set them on the table, then peeled the plastic wrap from a plate of cookies and put it in the middle. She sat in one chair, crossing her legs. After a moment, he sat in the other, and for a long time, that was all they did. Sit. Avoid looking at eachother. Ignore both tea and cookies. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as it should have been. At least, until she spoke.
    “No,” she said at last, with a great breath for fortitude. “I wasn’t with my mother that night. I didn’t literally, physically, see her in the river.”
    The breath he exhaled was as strong as the one she’d taken in. “Then how did you know?”
    “I had a vision. It was as real as if I was there. I could hear the rain falling. I could feel the drops stinging my skin. I could smell the mud and the river, and I could see…” Her fingers knotted in her lap. “I called to her. I pleaded with her to open her eyes and come home where she belonged. I screamed at her, but she didn’t hear me. She was already gone.”
    The clock on the wall counted the seconds, one for every two beats of her heart. Sixty of them had ticked past when she added, “It was the first vision I ever had.”
    Another sixty seconds passed before he met her gaze. He didn’t believe her. That was all right. She knew what she’d seen, knew it was real. His cynicism didn’t change that.
    Finally he took a drink from the sweating glass in front of him. Moisture collected on his fingertips, wiped away carelessly on a napkin. “You said you don’t see anything about the futures of people you’re close to.”
    “I said rarely. But it wasn’t Mama’s future I was seeing. It was her death.” She gazed out the window, thinking idly that she needed to hire someone to cut back the weeds before they grew over her head, smiling faintly at the thought of a lawn service making routine visits to Easy Street.
    Then, feeling Robbie’s gaze, she turned back to him. “Detective Maricci gave you the police report, didn’t he? That’s what was in the envelope.”
    He didn’t reply. Protecting his source.
    “Can I see it?”

    Her request startled him. “Why would you want to?”
    “She’s my mother. I want to know how she lived. I want to know how she died.”
    “She died alone,” he said flatly. “In the dark. In the rain.”
    Anamaria shook her head hard enough to make her hair sway. “She wasn’t alone. My sister was with her, and there were others waiting for her—her grandma Chessie, Chessie’s grandma Moon, Moon’s grandma Florence. And she liked the rain.”
    Glory had liked the rain, Anamaria realized as soon as she heard the words. They’d gone for walks in the rain, leaving the umbrellas and slickers at home, splashing through every puddle they came across, quacking like ducks and laughing till their faces hurt. She remembered.
    Across from her, Robbie was scowling. “Lydia says you’re here because you’re curious about your mother. Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked?”
    Half a smile curved her mouth. “I’d met you all of two minutes before. I didn’t owe you an answer.”
    “If you didn’t have anything to hide…”
    “If you hadn’t come