The Woman Read Online Free

least borrowed, by the man who helped her and then drove her home. He had certainly not been a cabbie for he had not asked for a fare.
    I hadn’t realized that until right now. And why did I tell him all that stuff about myself. Things I’ve never told anyone but Cynthia. Why did I do that?
    Her body went rigid, the hair dryer poised above her head, warming only the air. The radio had gone on to report that two men had been found dead—murdered, the announcer said, two strangers. Police Chief Benjamin McIlhenny reported having found no identification on their bodies. They had been found in the alley behind Sea Crest Donuts. Both shot in the head.
    Linda’s windowless bathroom shrank, cramped. The sensation of a belt tightened around her chest made her fight for the next breath, just as she had in the alley. The dead men had to be the two who attacked her. There were two men. Found in the same alley. They had been killed that same night. They had to be. Who else could they be?
    She recalled the touch of the repulsive man who’d held her close. He had rough hands. And sour breath. She shuddered. Then her mind saw the cruel face of the second man, his sagging stomach.
    The radio station described these killings as the first local murders ever, according to the Sea Crest Gazette, the town’s twice-a-week newspaper: Wednesday and Saturday mornings. The station went on to inform its listeners that no one knew exactly which year the Gazette had issued its first edition. Old man Jory, now retired, whose family had once run the ice house just outside of town, called in to say his pa had once said the Gazette began publishing in October 1881. The paper’s first lead story had been the shootout between the Earps and the Clantons at the OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona. Since then, the Gazette had reported many murders, but none in their own quiet hamlet. That had changed this morning. The tone of the announcement almost seemed proud. Like Sea Crest had finally made the big time, had qualified to be on the map.
    Such nonsense.
    Her next thought struck like a claw hammer.
    My mysterious helper must have killed them. . . . Who else? I have to tell Chief McIlhenny. No. First I want to talk with Cynthia.
    Linda left her condo at eleven-fifteen so she could arrive at O’Malley’s Bistro in time to get their regular table by the front window. The establishment had a side wall of stainless steel equipment that kept things cold and a back wall behind the bar crowded with more stainless equipment that kept other stuff hot. Other than the ubiquitous well-known fast food mainstays, O’Malley’s Bistro along with Millie’s Sea Grog comprised everything about food and drink for those who called Sea Crest home.
    From the table at the front window, Linda always saw Cynthia come out of her job across the street at SMITH & CO. At sixty-two, Cynthia was twenty-five years older than Linda, at least seventy-five pounds heavier, and had weak ankles. Linda always opened the door to O’Malley’s from the inside and helped Cynthia to their usual table.
    SMITH & CO.occupied a plain brick, standalone building with no windows and only a small sign: SMITH & CO., CONSULTING. No glass door. No sign welcoming visitors. In fact, the building, framed by alleys on its north and south sides, projected an image that said: not welcome. Cynthia had never invited Linda to stop at the office, and had always deflected inquiries about her place of employment.
    As usual, Clark Ryerson came to Linda’s table. He always waited on her, trading tables with other staff when necessary. Rumor was that Clark had come to town after being hired to provide security for the marijuana growers. Then one day Clark rode his Harley into town with a horrible cut on his side, blood steadily dripping from the bottom of one pant leg of his Levi’s. He told Dr. Mulvihill he’d foolishly backed into a cutting machine. The story seemed suspicious, but nothing else suggested trouble in the