Page 26 of The Woman By the Lake

“Don’t know wine, and you should know, I have it only on dubious authority that’s a good bottle. Still, hope you enjoy.”

She tipped her head slightly to the side, but that was it.

He made to turn.

But then he didn’t turn.

The woman wore an apron, for Christ’s sake.

He drew in a big breath and said, “My father was a piece of shit.”

Her body moved like she’d sustained a blow, and he got that too.

But he went on.

“Abusive to my mom. Abusive to me and my sister. Stepped out on Mom all the time. Didn’t even try to hide it. Mom got shot of him, but he’d still come around and give her grief, give it to all of us, even after she got a restraining order. He did time in county jail, a lot. In prison, twice. If he had money, you could bet the way he came by it wasn’t legal. But he didn’t often have money, which was usually why he stopped by to give Mom grief. The man never worked an honest job, not a day of his life. He fucked over any friend he made, any woman who gave her heart or body to him. He hated the cops, for obvious reasons. And he was on the run from them, high speed chase, when he went over a cliff.”

She gasped.

Riggs kept going.

“His car exploded on impact and set off a wildfire. Took out fifty acres and three houses before they contained it. And I’ll tell you, the man was very dead, but still, I know down deep in my gut, he’d be pleased as fuck his last act on this earth was to burn down all the worldly possessions of three families. He’d love that to the marrow of his bones. That was just how big of a piece of shit he was.”

She stood, still as a statue, but he wasn’t feeling a chill from her anymore.

Not even close.

Her face was pale, and those blue eyes were big, her lips were parted, and he could see her tits rise and fall fast, taking the apron with them.

“So, I get it,” he concluded. “I didn’t do any of that shit, and I had to live it down. He died ten years ago, and sometimes, I still have to live it down. It sucks. Huge. But you learn, the people you know, who know you, are the only ones that matter.”

She remained silent.

He’d said his piece.

He tipped his chin toward the bottle and bid, “Hope you like it, Nadia.”

That was when he turned to leave.

He’d only taken a step when he heard the screen door open.

He turned back and she was reaching for the bottle.

After she grabbed it, she was still bent in half when her head went back.

She swung the bottom of the bottle side to side, and asked softly, “Have you had dinner?”

He felt one side of his lips draw up and ignored what her invitation caused in his groin before he answered, “No.”

She straightened fully. “It’s nothing fancy. Just spaghetti.”

“I like spaghetti.”

She nodded and let the door go as she turned to move inside.

Riggs caught it before it closed.

He followed her in, and for the first time, he understood Brenda’s vision.

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