James Patterson - Honeymoon

When they all turned to look, she dropped to the ground behind the closest headstone. She pulled her knees tight against her chest and held her breath. It was a good time to wonder if she’d taken too much of a risk being there.

But Nora knew she couldn’t stay away.

She had to see this, disturbing and macabre as it was. Connor’s body being taken back from the earth—were they really going through with it?

Yes, they were.

Nora shuddered. According to legend, a witch was buried out there in an unmarked plot. Even with a sweater on, she could feel the cold granite slab against her back. Slowly, she took a peek around the headstone. Phew! They had gone back to work. Straps had been hooked up to some contraption over Connor’s grave. They were beginning to raise his coffin.

She watched in disbelief. With each turn of the crank, she became more upset. Everything had been going so smoothly. There was no cause for concern. She was free and clear. And now this.

Who the hell does this O’Hara guy think he is? Asshole! Fucker!

That prompted another question. Where the hell is he?

Nora thought for sure that by following Craig Reynolds that night, she’d get her first glimpse of O’Hara. It was the main reason she was there.

But he wasn’t one of the three workmen with the shovels. He surely wasn’t the cop. Besides Craig, that left only one other man—and he was barely a man. There’s no way that kid is John O’Hara, thought Nora.

Right then the top of the coffin rose above the ground. At the sight of it, she turned away, unable to watch. Her back pressed hard against the gravestone again, she could hear her heart pounding.

That was nothing compared to what she heard next.

A horrific snapping—and it came right from Connor’s grave. Every muscle in Nora’s body tensed. She didn’t know what had happened, and part of her wanted it to stay that way.

But she had to look.

So she peeked around the gravestone.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped. She nearly screamed. One side of Connor’s coffin was dangling, the lid wide open. Her mind filled in the rest, and as she watched the policeman vomit, she wanted to do the same.

In fact, she was sure she would’ve if not for another instinct taking over.

Run!

Chapter 57

THE NEXT DAY Nora drove back to Manhattan and directly to the Bliss spa in her SoHo neighborhood. She had a carrot-and-sesame body buff as well as a hot oil massage. That was followed by a manicure and pedicure. Usually nothing relaxed Nora more than a little blissful pampering.

But three hours and four hundred dollars later, she was no better off. The previous night still weighed on her mind. It was late afternoon and the thought of spending the evening alone was giving her chills.

She considered calling Elaine and Allison. Maybe they’d be up for a last-minute get-together. As Nora reached for her cell phone, though, she changed her mind.

She had another idea. Maybe a better way to distract herself. Instead of dwelling on what was, she’d focus on what might be. Her on-deck circle. Batter up, Brian Stewart.

Nora called the wealthy software magnate she’d met on the plane and asked if he had plans for the evening.

“Nothing I can’t cancel,” he quickly replied. “Give me two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” When he called back after clearing his schedule, he was ready to fill it again. All with Nora.

“I hope you don’t have to be up too early tomorrow morning,” he warned with a laugh. Excitedly, he outlined what was in store.

Cocktails at the King Cole Bar.

Then dinner at Vong.

Topped off by dancing in the West Village at Lotus.

Nora couldn’t have been more pleased. After spending time in a graveyard, a night on the town seemed just right.

Chapter 58

OVER A BOTTLE of Perrier-Jouët at the King Cole Bar, Brian Stewart regaled her with funny stories from his childhood. Nora listened and laughed. At the same time, she couldn’t help notice how a lot of them involved his family. The way Brian talked, she could tell how close they were. It made her jealous. In all her years shuttling from one foster care home to another, she was lucky if anyone even remembered her birthday.

Not that she was about to tell Brian any of that.

By this point in her life, Nora had perfected a made-up story of her upbringing. The architect father. The schoolteacher mother. The three of them living blissfully in the rolling hills of Litchfield, Connecticut. The more people she told, the more she was able to forget the truth. One day, she hoped, it would be as if her mother never really killed her father while Nora watched.

Over dinner at Vong, Brian switched to wine and Nora to Pellegrino. As they ate and drank, the two of them became increasingly cozy with each other. She was actually able to look at him without thinking of Brad Pitt. Brian was handsome enough in his own right.

Not to mention fun to be with, which wasn’t always the case with rich men. More times than not, the wealthy ones she met turned out to be exceedingly boring and incredibly full of themselves. Rich and exciting ones were hard to find. Which made Nora all the happier that she’d met Brian.

The feeling seemed mutual.

The way things were going, it looked as if they wouldn’t make it to Lotus for dancing. She tried to picture his apartment. Surely it would be huge, probably a penthouse. Maybe some kind of interesting loft space. She’d find out soon enough.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

“The best.”

He smiled. Except it wasn’t exactly a happy smile. Something was bothering him and he looked nervous.

Nora inched forward in her seat. “What’s wrong?”

He fidgeted with his dessert spoon, almost as if he were working up his nerve. Apparently, he was. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said. “I have a confession to make.”

“Damn, you’re married.”

“No, I’m not married, Nora.”

“Then, what is it?” she asked.

His dessert spoon was getting a real workout now. “It’s something else I’m not,” he said. He finally put down the spoon and took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m not really a rich software developer.”

The words hung in the air, as did the silence that followed them. Nora was speechless. Brian’s face was red, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. His admission had sobered them both up.

“I’m telling you this because I couldn’t lie to you anymore,” he said.

“Why did you lie in the first place?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t have been interested in me.”

Nora blinked. “What do you really do?” she asked.

“I’m an advertising copywriter.”

“Ah, you lie for a living. So, there were no venture capitalists waiting for you in Boston?”

“No, just a client. Gillette.”

She shook her head. “Let me get this straight—you thought the only way I’d like you was if you were rich?”

“I guess I did.”

“Or was it because you thought that was the only way I’d sleep with you for one night—as in tonight?”

“That’s not true.”

She shot him a dubious look. “Really?”

“Okay, it’s a little bit true,” he admitted. “At least at first. Like I said, though, I couldn’t lie to you anymore.”

“Is anything that you’ve told me true?”

“Yes. Everything, as a matter of fact. Everything except the part about being fabulously wealthy. I’m sorry I lied,” he said. “Can you forgive me?”

Nora paused, if only for effect, before reaching over and taking his hand. “Yes,” she said. “I can forgive you. I do forgive you, Brian.”