BooksBarbecue
Back Sunset Beach Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. Epilogue
  71. Also by Mary Kay Andrews
  72. About the Author
  73. Newsletter Sign-up

Drue found herself at eye level with the top of the wrought-iron balcony railing. She swallowed hard and hooked her left leg over the railing, with her right leg in midair. Suddenly a beam of light flashed in her eyes and a man’s voice sliced through the darkness.

“Stay right there, ma’am.”

Drue froze momentarily, but she didn’t dare obey the order, because she simply didn’t have the strength to climb down. Instead she propelled herself upward and onto the balcony. The flashlight beam was blinding.

“Ma’am? The police have been called. Now I need you to come right back down here, the way you went up.”

“I wish I could,” she said with a sigh, shielding her eyes with her arm. Her knees and calves were shaking so badly it was all she could do to sink onto the floor of the balcony.

48

August 19, 1976

Colleen sat in the perfect living room of her perfect house. It was just a cracker box, really, the smallest house on the block, and it was only a rental, but it was on Snell Isle, the ritziest neighborhood in St. Pete, and only a few blocks from Allen’s parents’ waterfront mansion on Brightwaters Boulevard, which was all that mattered to her husband.

A car honked outside, causing her to startle, just a little. Allen emerged from the hallway, loaded down with a suitcase, tackle box and his deep-sea fishing rod. “That’s Dad,” he announced, looking out the front picture window.

Colleen stood and walked him to the door. He set the baggage down and pulled her close, tipping her chin up and kissing her. “Be good,” he said. He kissed her again, for good measure, thrusting his tongue down her throat, then giving her left nipple a vicious twist.

“You too,” she said, forcing a smile and opening the door. It had gotten dark, but she stepped outside and waved at Morton Hicks, who was behind the wheel of his station wagon with his twenty-one-foot Boston Whaler in tow.

“See you Sunday night,” Allen called, right before he climbed in the front seat of the Vista Cruiser.

The station wagon pulled away from the curb and she stood, watching, as the distinctive curved taillights receded into the steamy summer night. When she finally saw them make the turn onto Brightwaters Boulevard, she exhaled slowly.

Colleen took the cream-colored Samsonite train case from the top shelf of her closet and set it on the quilted floral-print bedspread. This was her favorite room in the house, and she would miss it. She’d picked out the avocado green and orange floral bedspread and curtains herself, coordinating them with the thick wall-to-wall carpet she’d badgered their landlord into installing throughout the house.