Free Sleeping Beauty by Dallas Schulze Page A

Lisa arched her brows. "You don't know your brother very well if you think it's possible to quarrel with him. He just slides away, neither agreeing or disagreeing, leaving you to either drop the subject or argue with yourself."
    Anne shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of something to say. She could have pointed out that, if Jack did what Lisa was describing, maybe it was because it was the easiest way to deal with their mother, but she wasn't comfortable saying as much.
    "I told him I thought he had a drinking problem,'' Lisa said abruptly.
    "A..." Anne stared at her in shock. Whatever she'd thought the quarrel could have been about, it hadn't been this. "Jack doesn't have... I can't imagine why you'd think he did," she finally managed.
    "My ex-husband was an alcoholic." Now that she'd gotten the words out, Lisa seemed calm. "I know the signs, and your brother has most of them."
    "I haven't noticed anything unusual." Too upset to stay still, Anne slid off her stool and walked a little way away, staring at the tumble of ribbons on a shelf. "Maybe the fact that your ex had a problem is making you paranoid."
    "How much wine did you drink last night at dinner?" Lisa asked.
    "None. I don't care for it."
    "I didn't have any, and neither did your father. Your mother had one glass. Jack finished the bottle. He had a couple shots of Johnnie Walker before dinner. For that matter, I suspect he had a couple before he left home—to fortify himself for the ordeal."
    Anne stared blankly at an impossibly bright embroidered fish that was nestled in amongst several lengths of ribbon and a handful of empty walnut shells. She didn't want to believe what Lisa was saying, not just for her brother's sake but because of what it said about her relationship with him. You don't know your brother very well, Lisa had said. Maybe she was right.
    "Maybe he drank a little bit too much last night, but you know what my mother is like. She hates it that he's a cop and that he's—"
    "Seeing me," Lisa finished when she stumbled. She smiled ruefully when Anne turned to give her an apologetic look. ''It's not like she makes a secret of it. Lucky for me, I have very few sensibilities, so most if it rolls right off my back."
    "She doesn't mean—"
    "Yes she does." Lisa waved her hand. "Your mother's opinion has never been a big concern of mine."
    Which is probably one of the reasons she hates you, Anne thought. Lisa's indifference was much harder to deal with than her antipathy would have been.
    "Maybe Jack was drinking to drown out your mother, but that doesn't make it okay. And that's not the only time he drinks, either."
    "He'd never drink on duty," Anne protested, shocked that Lisa could think he would.
    "Maybe not yet!" Lisa conceded. "But that's the direction he's headed. I've talked to him about it before, but on the way home last night I got a little more firm about it. That's one mistake I'm not repeating."
    "No, of course not." Anne walked back to the counter, her expression thoughtful. She wasn't convinced Lisa was right. If she was... Well, maybe there were reasons. Not excuses, exactly, but explanations.
    "If Jack does have a drinking problem," she said, laying careful emphasis on the "if," "maybe there's a reason. You know, after Brooke—"
    "Don't say it." Startled by the sharp interruption, Anne looked up and met the kindled fire in Lisa's green eyes. "Does it ever occur to anyone that, if Brooke was still alive, she couldn't possibly dominate your lives the way she has since she's been dead?"
    The silence was so profound that the sound of a car door shutting somewhere on the street outside seemed loud as gunfire. Looking at Anne, seeing the shock on her face, Lisa closed her eyes a moment and reminded herself that it wasn't Anne's fault Of aH of them, Anne was the only one who bore no blame.
    "I'm sorry." She huffed out a sigh and reached over to put her hand on Anne's where it lay on the counter. "Jack and I will be fine. It's not like we're