Free The House on Everley Street (Death Herself Book 2) by Amy Cross Page B

this is such a rare opportunity, and talking to you has been so cool.”
    John moved the phone closer to his face. “That's fine, Gary,” he said with a grin, imagining Sarah's reaction. “I'd be happy to do that. Tell Hannah and the others that I'll be through in just a moment to continue our fascinating discussion.”
    As Gary headed back to the main room, John put the phone to the side of his face.
    There was nothing but silence on the other end.
    “I have to go,” he said after a moment, “the others are waiting for me. It's been a really interesting book club and I think everyone's learning a lot.”
    He waited for a reply, but he could almost hear Sarah's jaw hitting the ground on the other end.
    “Honey?” he said. “Are you still there?”
    “Okay,” she said finally, with a hint of caution in her voice, “who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

Chapter Ten
    Twenty years ago
     
    “Hey,” Alison said with a smile, as soon as John opened the door. She was wearing a cream sweater with a big ladybird on the front. “Long time, stranger.”
    Startled, he stared at her for a moment. He'd spent the morning tidying the house, lost in his own thoughts... or at least that was what he told himself. For a moment, he felt as if maybe there was something he'd forgotten, as if his mind had divided into two completely separate halves, but that sensation passed quickly enough. Instead, he focused on the surprise of seeing Alison standing in front of him. After all, she was one of his few friends, or at least she had been, back when he still had friends, back in his school days.
    “Are you gonna invite me in?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “or do I have to force my way through the door? Which, to be fair, wouldn't be so easy after my recent op.” She looked down at his foot. “Are you limping?”
    “Oh, it's nothing,” he replied. “I just hurt my toe when...” Pausing, he realized he didn't remember how he'd hurt it. “It's nothing. Come in.”
     
    ***
     
    “Wow,” she said a few minutes later, looking out the window and watching the fuchsia plants for a moment before turning back to him, “John, I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”
    “It was a few days ago now,” he replied, well aware that he was being stiff and formal but unable to find a way to relax, “so... I mean, it's over, I guess. It's all sorted.”
    “And you're here alone?”
    “It's not so bad.”
    “Sure, but...” She paused, clearly concerned. “You're in this house all by yourself?”
    “I'm not worried about ghosts, if that's what you mean.”
    “No, but still, it doesn't seem...” She paused again. “Well, it just seems kind of morbid, that's all. What about your father?”
    “He's coming for the funeral.”
    “Oh, that's nice of him,” she said sarcastically. “Still gunning for that father of the year award, I take it.”
    “I don't need him here.” He winced a little as he felt his toe hurting again. The nail felt loose, so he figured he'd have to rip it off later. The strange thing was, he couldn't quite remember how he'd hurt it in the first place.
    “No, but you need someone. Jesus, it's a complete coincidence that I just happened to drop by today, and now I find you all alone in the house where you found a dead body just a few days ago. I mean, I know your grandmother wasn't exactly... I don't want to say bad things about dead people, but I know what it was like for you, living with her. Still, this must have been a huge shock.”
    “I -”
    Before he could finish, she stepped closer and put her arms around him, giving him a tight hug that momentarily pressed their bodies together. Her fingers pressed against the back of his t-shirt, rubbing against the burn marks from his grandmother's cigarettes, but not enough for him to flinch. Instead, he put his arms around her in return, even though he felt uncomfortable being so close.
    “Don't squeeze me too tight,” she told him. “I'm