Gypped Read Online Free Page A

started to research auto theft. One headline that struck Regan’s eye said that the most car thefts occur on New Year’s Day. After a night of merriment, people call cabs. When they return after sleeping it off, their beloved set of wheels is nowhere to be found. Make that the second headache of the day. Any New Year’s resolution to think positive is down the drain.
    Regan scrolled down the page. Car thieves must hate it when big snowstorms hit on New Year’s Eve. Cuts into the business when people stay home.
    Why can’t I get that guy out of my head?
    Regan glanced at a few more articles. A lot of what she read she already knew. The most luxurious cars are not usually targeted. Mid-priced popular cars are stolen for their parts. These days car tracking devices can help, but only when drivers quickly realize that their car is gone. If your car is stolen when you are just settling in with your popcorn to watch a three-hour movie, good luck. By the time the credits roll, the only part you might retrieve is the glove compartment.
    Oh well, Regan thought. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I gave security my cell phone number. If at the end of the day a car is missing, they can call me. I’m pretty sure I can identify the guy.
    Regan got up, went over to the bed, and pulled back the spread. She folded it up and placed it on the chaise lounge. I’ll just rest for a few minutes, she thought, then get up and take a shower. With the three-hour time difference I don’t want to be too tired at Zelda’s party.
    She went into the bathroom and changed into a white terrycloth bathrobe with the hotel’s insignia. When she returned to the bed she laid down, not expecting to actually fall asleep. But she did. The soothing room did its job.
    But it couldn’t protect her from her dreams.
    She dreamed she was in the dark, running away from someone, but she didn’t know where she was.
    And there was no sign of Jack.

4

    Z elda rushed to the back door of the house, her mind a blur, her hands full of shopping bags. I can’t believe that Dad and Bobby Jo are coming here! They could have given me a little time to absorb the fact that they’re united in holy wedlock before I lay eyes on them again. In another day they’ll be showing up on my doorstep, except it isn’t my doorstep. I have clients coming to the house. Once they get a load of Bobby Jo, they’ll never want to take advice from me again.
    Placing the bags on the ground, Zelda ran back to the car to collect the rest of her purchases. After gathering the packages Regan had carried for her, she slammed the trunk shut. Wait ’til Regan hears this! I just know she’ll understand. I’m quite sure she hasn’t gone through anything similar, but I remember we talked about being only children. You get all the attention but it also means you don’t have anyone who’s in the same boat. If it sinks, you’re all alone. And I feel like I’m sinking.
    Zelda hurried to the back door, pushed it open, and stepped inside the big, long kitchen. The pink appliances from the 1950s that had seemed like a kick before she left for the mall, now appeared to be just what they were—old and decrepit.
    Nothing like a crisis to force cold broad daylight into your brain.
    Suddenly an impatient Zelda had a lot of questions. Who are the owners of this place anyway? Who are the Scrumps? If they don’t live here, and they’re not taking care of the place, why don’t they sell it? It’s a nice piece of property not far from a hiking trail. At the right price I’m sure someone would take it off their hands. New owners would most likely tear the house down and build a home with running water that you didn’t have to let flow forever before getting rid of the rust. Which reminds me. I should go upstairs and turn on the faucet to the tub. I really need to soak and calm down before my guests arrive.
    Another question—where are the caterers? Trays of hors d’oeuvres were lined up on the