False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [3]
Skinny mullet—
Skinny person.
Slow the TV—
Turn down the TV.
Surette—
Savannah’s last name (waitress at Zoe B’s).
Un jour a la frou—
One day at a time.
Up the bayou—
Cajun way of saying north.
PROLOGUE
Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. (Hebrews 4:13)
Shelby Sieger sat straight up in bed, clutching her pillow. Trembling. Had she called out again—or imagined it? She clamped her eyes shut and listened. Had she awakened anyone else at the Woodmore House?
An entire minute passed without a sound. She threw back the covers and slid her legs over the side of the bed, groping the nightstand until she found the thin metal chain on the lamp—and pulled it. Sixty watts instantly transformed the room. Why should a twenty-seven-year-old woman feel safer with the light on?
Her three packed suitcases were neatly lined up in front of the white marble fireplace. Maybe once she was away from here, the nightmares would cease. But leaving would be harder than she thought.
Shelby picked up the framed photo of the Woodmore staff taken last Christmas and slowly traced the faces with her finger. Six years was a long time. No one could dispute that Adele Woodmore treated her more like a blood relative than merely a trusted member of her household staff. But hadn’t she worked hard for her keep? Adele never ran out of things for her to do. The meager salary she earned in addition to room and board would never have been enough to realize her dream.
She sighed and put the photo back on the nightstand. And why shouldn’t her dream come true? Was she less deserving than everyone else?
Her father’s words still taunted her. You stupid, worthless little brat! If I thought someone else would take you, I’d park you on their doorstep. You’re nothin’. And you’ll never amount to nothin’.
Shelby blinked several times to clear her eyes. It wasn’t her fault that he was a mean drunk guilty of unspeakable acts or that her mother was a blubbering weakling with no backbone. But she wasn’t that helpless little girl anymore. Who could blame her for seizing the moment? She’d simply done what she needed to do. Adele had gotten over it; her life would go on as usual.
Shelby slid open the second drawer and took out her wallet to look at the new name on her driver’s license and social security card. She had waited an entire year to avoid suspicion. Then, two weeks ago, she gave Adele notice—and managed a sufficient show of emotion to convince her that the decision to leave Woodmore had been prompted by her mother’s failing health.
A howling wind caused branches of the longleaf pines to scrape the roof—and cold air to seep through the windows. She shivered and put her wallet back in the drawer, then crawled under the patchwork quilt, content to leave the light on. Soon she would be on her own, self-employed and accountable to no one. Hadn’t that always been her dream?
Shelby glanced at the clock. As long as she remained in this house, there was a chance something could go wrong. It would be a huge relief when she could stop worrying that Adele might uncover what the police never did. Six hours from now she would board a Greyhound bus for Lafayette and never look back. And no one would ever know what she’d done or where she’d gone.
CHAPTER 1
As Vanessa Langley stepped gingerly across the creaky wood floor in the empty parlor at Langley Manor, the eyes of the bearded man in the painting above the fireplace seemed to follow her.
A popping noise overhead sent her pulse racing. She looked up at the chandelier. “What was that?”
Her husband, Ethan, grabbed her arm, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe it’s the ghost of Josiah Langley.” He nodded toward the painting. “He’s still hanging around.”
Vanessa smiled in spite of herself. “I’m sure it’s just the house settling.”
“Is it?” Ethan lifted his eyebrows up and down. “Or have we traveled back in time—through six generations of Langleys—and entered into … The