Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [87]
You fell in love with him. You fell in love with a lie.
The tears flowed again and Claire clenched her fists, slamming them on the vanity. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to feel anything. She wanted to forget she’d ever met Mitch Bianchi. She wanted to harden her heart and keep the pain out.
“Dammit, Claire! Get a grip. So he lied to you, manipulated you. He fucked you.”
She’d slept with him. God, she’d slept with him and remembered feeling over the moon about it. She’d thought they’d had a connection, that they’d taken an invisible step toward something real and permanent.
You told him you loved him.
Her mirror steamed in the heat of the shower and she could no longer see her reflection. Good. She didn’t want to look at her pitiful self. She’d prided herself for years on being able to detect liars and frauds, but she was only deluding herself.
Stripping off her clothes, she stepped under the hot, pulsing spray. A flash of her and Mitch in this shower last night hit her and she gave into the hurt one last time. Here, in the shower, alone. She let it out. She had to finish with it. She had a job to do. Prove that her father was innocent. That’s all that mattered now.
Forget everything else.
She had to. For herself, and her dad. Later there’d be plenty of time to deal with her hurt feelings about Mitch.
By the time she stepped out of the shower, she’d put on her armor. She remembered an old Bible verse from catechism. Putting on the armor of God. She didn’t know where God was in her life, but the armor was useful. She mentally brought up her shield, donned a helmet, held her sword.
Not to attack, but to protect herself.
On autopilot, she dried her hair. She stared at her body, saw a faint hickey Mitch had left on her left breast. Stared at it. Remembered how it felt when he kissed her. Remembered how he looked at her.
She closed her eyes and bent over the sink, nauseated. She was normally so good at controlling her emotions, blocking out the pain, why was it so hard to do it now?
Put on the armor, Claire. Dammit, he can only hurt you if you let him!
So not true.
She brushed her damp hair and went through the comfortable ritual of cleansing her face and rubbing in moisturizer. Circular motions. Over and over. Forget Mitch. Forget him. Focus on Oliver. Her dad. The truth. Mitch had nothing to do with any of that.
Claire left the bathroom and pulled on panties and an oversize Stanford T-shirt that fell nearly to her knees. She should go to Isleton . . . but it was already nine.
Neelix wound himself around her feet until she picked him up. He purred against her face and she breathed in his clean, soft fur. “Sorry, kitty. I know what’s important. You and the boys.”
Animals didn’t lie. When they were hungry, they jumped on you and whined. When they were happy, they wagged their tails or purred. When they were startled, they barked or hissed. They were innocent as children, and gave affection freely. No strings.
Yoda started barking and Claire turned toward the back door, when the front bell rang.
“Who now?”
She didn’t want to answer the door. The idea of pretending no one was home came and went. She walked to the front door and through the peephole spied an unfamiliar tall woman in her forties. A neighbor? Claire wasn’t sure.
She opened the door without taking off the chain. “Can I help you?”
“Claire.”
She frowned. She didn’t know this woman. Yoda had gotten Chewy and the stray dogs barking up a frenzy. She didn’t want her neighbors to complain. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Nelia Kincaid. I know your father.”
Nothing could have surprised her more. She didn’t know what to say.
“Can I come in? I promise I won’t stay long.”
Claire was reluctant to let the stranger in, but she was intrigued. She closed the door, undid the chain, and reopened the door. “We haven’t met.”
Nelia Kincaid shook her head. “But I feel like I know you. Your father has told me a lot.”
“I don’t know how. He doesn’t know me.”
“Yes, I do.”
She whirled around. Her father was standing right behind her. She felt trapped