BooksBarbecue
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

His house was set back from the road, and I drove all the way up his long driveway. It would be a bitch to back out, but at least I wouldn’t get trampled by a cow.

Asher Moss answered his door. He had a tight body for late fifties, and his white T-shirt was tucked into his jeans. He seemed like one of those guys always working on a carpentry project or getting up early to go on a ten-mile bike ride. His face was weathered, creased, but his blue eyes were enthusiastic and pretty. Not as pretty as Desiree’s, but the slate blue of a lake. Handsome.

“Hi. I’m friends with your daughter.”

“She OK?” Calm, but concerned.

“She’s fine.”

“Oh, that’s good.” He smiled. He had an aw-shucks smile. “That girl raises my blood pressure.” He must have had a heck of a time raising a daughter on his own. Desiree probably had him wrapped around her finger.

“I’m Heather Bishop. I’m in town with my husband. We’re visiting his mom. Judy Bishop.”

He nodded. “I know Judy. Sorry to hear about her diagnosis.”

“Thanks,” I said, remembering the cow. I glanced back. It remained near the road. “My maiden name is Hornne. My mom was Melinda Hornne.” His gaze drifted over my shoulder. “I just found out my mom was a suspect in a murder case. Dawn Young.”

He nodded, stepped out, and whistled with both pinkies in his mouth. “Come here, Ginger,” he said, walking down the porch and sitting on the bottom step. I stayed where I was, standing on the porch, watching the cow mosey over.

“I didn’t know people had pet cows,” I said.

He laughed softly. “I don’t know that they do. We’ve had a few dairy farms go under in the past decade. One fellow let his cows loose and burned down the barn, killed himself. Neighboring farms have collected the cows, the ones that didn’t die, brought them into their stock. Ginger was a loner. You’d be driving by and see her eating grass. When people tried to catch her, she ran. Which is hilarious, because if you know anything about cows, they aren’t typically hard to catch. How she got her name.” He turned his head and winked at me. “Gingerbread Man,” he said. In case I’d missed how she got her name, which I had.

“Oh, right,” I said. “Cute.”