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Back Confess to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

The piney scent of turpentine lingered in our old garage in Hunther and then our next house. I’d find fine-tipped brushes hardened with paint that had fallen in the divots against the drywall. If I lingered along the side of the house during her evening art class, I’d hear Mom’s sarcastic laughter, the tinkling of ice swirling vodka in her coffee mug, and women’s sing-song chatter. They enjoyed her class; they enjoyed an excuse to leave their wifely house-bound duties. Basically, my mom ran a prototypical, garage version of Paint and Sip.

“Next class is starting,” Desiree said, nodding at the kids beside me. “Alrighty, Emmy,” she said and scooped Emily out of the pool by her armpits. “See you later, sugar baby. Love your suit. Wish they made one in my size.” She motioned to the kids waiting near the pool’s edge. “Hop on in, Alex. Heya, Mandy, how’s it going, girlie?”

Emily drifted toward the showers. I followed, dodging children and their parents while trying to stay away from the pool’s edge.

So, my mom drove Dawn Young to work, helped her out, and then Dawn’s murdered. They simply blamed the last person Dawn was seen with.

Oh, look at you. Sticking up for a mother you walked out on decades ago.

7

7

When Em and I got home from the pool, Trevor was on the back deck, standing beside the grill. Misted in fatty smoke, he was holding a can of beer and wearing jeans. No shirt, no shoes.

“Hey, handsome,” I said, stepping out. “What’s for dinner, and where’s my husband?”

He laughed.

“I thought you and Sawyer were supposed to be at your mom’s all day,” I said. “I had amazing mac and cheese plans for dinner.”

He smiled, his eyelids heavy, blinking slowly. Relaxed. Buzzed. “It was a crazy day. Paulina’s husband, Troy, stopped by to drop off a phone charger.” Paulina was one of the nurses who took care of Judy Bishop. “Troy and I got to talking, and somehow, Paulina and Troy talked me and Sawyer into going hunting with him.” Trev was smiling like a kid who’d climbed his first tree, standing up there on a branch, feeling like a king. “Paulina covered my shift, and we shot a duck.”

I laughed. “What?”

“I know. I’m not even sure what the hell happened. I haven’t gone hunting for nearly twenty years. It felt good. Teaching Sawyer, walking through the woods with him, it felt really good.”

I stepped to him and laid my hand on his bare chest and kissed his neck. There was a new smell to him, woodsy and musky. I took his beer and sipped it. It tasted cheap and watered down, but good, like the lazy end of summer. “Is that what’s on the grill?”

“Yep.”

I faked being horrified.